Falling For Alaska

Chapter Nine: The Joys of Disrespecting Authority

"Ohhhhh, I'm a lonely little tree and I wish I had a frienddddd," I 'sang', with uncertainty, noticing the odd and amused looks I got from almost everyone.

And not to mention, I was in a damn tree costume with pounds of green paint and makeup on my face.

Basically, I looked pretty freaking retarded.

I mean, this really was just too embarrassing-- a form of social suicide. Especially when all the damn hippies looked very, very amused. Freaking self-satisfied, judgemental hippies.

Especially Alaska, who looked like a few laughs away from a heart attack.

When Carter finally called CUT!, relief poured through me and I felt a brief feeling of joy (or as much happiness you can feel while in a situation like this one).

Until, at least, Carter started criticizing every single thing I did 'wrong.'

Admittedly, some of the things he mentioned had a little truth in them, but honestly, he should be happy that I'm even doing the dumb play.

And, really, there was no way I was going to 'put more emotion into it' or 'act with more passion and gainess' like he had suggested.

No. Way. In. Hell.

Carter's annoying, raspy voice startled me from my rather negative thoughts, "Again, Forrest! From the top: this time with more emotion!"

Oh sh*t. I was not going to sulk about being 'lonely,' when trees, well, don't have damn feelings in the first place!

I groaned at the sound of the piano introduction of the first song: Lonely Me (such a creative title huh?)

It was a rather pathetic song-- seriously, it was like all the tree did was sulk in self-pity. Like maybe that's why he had no friends-- because he cried and sulked about it every single minute.

Carter soon gave me the cue to start singing, and resentfully, with a huge frown on my face, I started singing the damn song, in a flat monotone, 'slightly' off key. "Oh, my name is Frankie Treesome, the loneliest tree of all of Treeville," I started, "And oh how I wish I had a friend."

The hippies snickered, and a few even had the nerve to 'boo'.

Meanies.

Even Carter-- whose face was red from either laughter or anger (I was unable to determine which)-- could barely compose himself. "CUT, CUT, CUT!"

Huh, I guess it was anger after all.

Carter's huge presence staggered up to the stage and 'intimidatingly' got all up in my face. He pointed a single chubby finger into my chest and puffed out his own chest in self-importance, before 'expressing his feelings,' "CHASE JACKSON FORREST! YOU NEED TO GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER.  I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR DUMB PRANKS AND SH*TTY, S-SMUG LITTLE ATTITUDE. YOU EITHER GET YOUR SELF TOGETHER OR I-I-I'LL---"

I smirked confidently, and casually removed Carter's thick finger from my chest, "Or you'll what? Cry to my father? Throw my sorry ass into jail? Perhaps you'll go whine to your mother? Hmm, which one is it? Oh, Carter, please share!"

If anything, Carter's face jut got even redder, his cheeks a furious red. His lip curled into a snarl, and he quickly stammered out a very angry response. "Y-you listen here, Chase Jackson Forrest, because I-I'm not afraid to throw you into jail or, uh, c-contact your father about this. Either get your damn act together o-or we'll be taking a stroll to the police station, young man."

Oh god. His attempts to actually 'frighten' me were more or less, hilarious.

Did he really freaking think I cared what my damn father though?