July 19, 2005

Shorter Rest-of-High-School


Because hey, prequels to established hits are always moneymakers...

9th grade, 91/92:
Keir: Holy shit.
DHHS: That’s right, freshman. Deal widdit.
Keir: Uh, soccer?
DHHS: Forget it.
Keir: Baseball?
DHHS: Sorry, dude. Ask AYSO.
Keir: Okay. Uh, what else you got?
DHHS: How about more homework? It’s easy, but there’s lots of it.
Keir: Uh, sure, I guess. Hey, what about all those hot chicks over there? Or those other chicks staring at me?
DHHS: We’ll get to that later. The teachers think you’re pretty smart, though.
Keir: Oh, that’s nice. How about the dudes? Are we still cool?
Jon: Word.
Ray: Word.
Other Random Dudes: Word.
Keir: Sweet.
AYSO: Hey man.
Keir: ‘Sup. Is it on?
AYSO: You know it. Your coach might be more of a hardass this year, though.
Keir: Damn. Guess I can deal.
AYSO: I thought so. Late.
Jon: Let’s gamble. You still in?
Keir: Sure.
Bryn: Junior high sucks.
Keir: Hang in there, man. Just don’t touch Dad’s crappy old guitar, or the pea coat. They’re mine, dig?
Bryn: Well shit. I’m going sailing.
Lis: Keir, you listen to the Police too much. Sting’s not really that cool.
Keir: No no, he’ll be cool for another year or so, but then he’ll be a wanker ever after. Good thing there’s these U2 guys I guess. They’ll never be uncool, right?
Lis: Um...
Keir: Whatever. Wish I was in a band.
DHHS: Sorry kid. Hey, if it matters, people will think you’re cool anyway. By the way, some of those girls like you.
Keir: Really? Sweet.
DHHS: Whoa there. You, uh, (improvises) wouldn’t like them. Trust me. You won’t regret it if you don’t ask them out. Really.
Keir: Are you sure?
DHHS: Uh, yeah man.
Keir: Oh, okay. Um, what about… let’s see… Jenny?
Katye: …
Jenny: You’re sweet, but don’t even think about it.
Keir: Shit. Samantha?
Katye: …
Samantha: DHHS sucks.
DHHS: Hey! Just for that, I’m making you all go to 10th grade.
Dad: Wait a sec- my kids have to hang in G-town for a few hot, boring weeks in midsummer again.
Keir/Bryn/Lis: Oh, okay.

10th grade, ‘92/’93:
Keir: Man, Achtung Baby rocks. Why do I always get these things a year later?
Life: Dude, you’re a firstborn late bloomer. Didn’t I already tell you that?
Keir: Maybe. I don’t remember. Oh, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas rocks too.
Life: Yeah, I knew that. Hey, you know what you could use right now?
Keir: Uh, a bass guitar? A girlfriend? A social life? A haircut? A new creative outlet? What?
Life: Well, yeah, to all of that, but I’m gonna give you… a broken toe and a broken collarbone all at once!
AYSO: Hey, that was my present, man!
Life: Yeah, well, that’s life. Bye!
AYSO: Oh, oh yeah. Bye!
Keir: Ouch. I mean, OUCH. Damn, crutches suck. Clavicle halters suck too.
Girls: We empathize. Or sympathize. Or something.
Keir: Really? Want some mix tapes? Or hand-drawn portraits? Will you go out with me now?
Girls: Yes, yes, guess so, and no, in that order.
DHHS: Relax, guy. Your teachers still think you rock. Oh, except the fundie PE coach.
Keir: Well, fuck him. Anyway, I’m all better now.
Jon: Sweet. Let’s go watch the football team lose again.
Keir: But they won this time. Hey, shouldn’t we join some clubs or something?
Jon: I’m already playing baseball, man. You can too, but only winter ball.
DHHS: Let’s make it easy- Try some academic ones, then ditch ‘em, then try the trivia team, and then why not go ahead to 11th grade? You’ll have more fun there.
Keir: Okay, I can do that. How about driving?
Mom: Better wait on that, dear.
Keir: Oh. Can I at least bail on Dad’s this summer?
Dad: No. You have to meet my new girlfriend and all of her family this time too.
Keir/Bryn/Lis: Oh. Okay, whatever.


11th grade, ‘93/’94:
Keir: Am I gonna get the hang of this shit yet?
Life: What, like avoiding more scenes of crippling embarrassment? Call me in 10 years, man.
Keir: Shit. Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now?
DHHS: Why not try to get in with the ASB kids? They’re doing a Homecoming Float and they need some lights on it.
Keir: Oh, sure, cool. Hey, will any of those girls like me? They’re hot too.
DHHS: No, but most (though not all) of them are shallow anyway. Don’t sweat it. This’ll be fun.
Laguna Firestorm: No way, bitch, I don’t think so. Welcome to the Terrordome.
DHHS: Holy shit!
Keir: (cough) Well, can I still be the Fat Vegas Elvis?
DHHS: (distracted) Uh, okay man, sure, but dig: you’ll be forced into an awkward situation later with your parents and your dad’s girlfriend and stuff, so don’t get too excited.
Keir: Oh. Damn. Hey Rest Of The Float People. Hey Brynley.
Brynley: Just sit on the float, dude. Chill.
DHHS: Okay, okay. Back to class, people. Oh, and Keir, Chemistry hates you.
Keir: Fuck. What about Astronomy?
DHHS: Rock on.
Keir: Sweet. What else is up?
Jon: Hey.
Nick: Hey.
Kevin: Hey.
Keir: ‘Sup y’all. Shall we roll?
Jon/Nick/Kevin: Word, let’s roll.
Keir: Awesome.
Bryn & Adam: Hey, we’re representin’ too, yo.
Keir: Lemme get back to you on that. Sit tight.
Sophomore Girls: Hey Keir.
Keir: Hey ladies.
Sophomore Girls: …
Keir: ….
Nick: Dude, we’re rollin’ here.
Jon: Rollin’ retro, even.
Kevin: Just get in the fucking car, man.
Keir: What? Oh, oh yeah.
AP Exams: Keir?
Keir: Yeah?
AP Exams: We's your bitch.
Keir: Damn right you is.
Kiwanis Bowl: Hey, Keir & Jon?
Keir: Yeah?
Jon: Yeah?
Kiwanis Bowl: You guys is some smart motherfuckers.
Keir: Fuckin’ A we are.
DHHS: Keir?
Keir: Yeah?
DHHS: Your teachers still dig you. Have some awards, man. Stroke that ego.
Keir: That’s what I’m talkin’ bout.
Dad: Hey, did you and your brother and sister get up to G-town this summer? I don’t remember.
Keir: Uh, come to think of it, I don’t remember either. Let’s just skip it, okay?

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