Hello lovelies!
So prom Lams sad shit I dunno it's 12:30 am and I'm craving death.
Peggy smiled as her best friend walked on to the stage. "Now everyone, give it up for our prom director, John Laurens!" She yelled into her microphone.
John gave her a grim nod in return, grabbing his own microphone from a stand in the centre of the stage. "So I kinda wanted to sing something for someone." He nodded at the band. The drummer counted them in, then burst into song with the guys on the guitars.
My boyfriend, my dumb fighter
Went out to a party just the other night
But three hours later and seven shots of Jager
He was in the bedroom with another guy
And I don't really wanna know
So don't tell me anymore
And I really don't wanna hear
About his feet all up in the air
And well, I'm not the one who acted like a hoe
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So, spare me the details if you don't mind
Now I can understand friends who wanna tell me
Think they're gonna help me open up my eyes
But the play-by-play makes me wanna lose it
Every time you do it, man, it turns the knife
And I don't really wanna know
So don't tell me anymore
And I really don't wanna hear
About his feet all up in the air
And well, I'm not the one who acted like a hoe
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So, spare me the details if you don't mind
Now I don't need to hear about the sounds they were making
And I don't need to hear about how long it was taking
Or how the walls, they were shaking
Now lying in bed, wallowing in sorrow
Missing the tomorrow that we could have had
Running through my head, over and over
Things I never told him now just make me sad
And it drives me insane, sitting with the vision
Stuck with that image burned into my brain
And I feel so dumb that I could ever trust him
While someone else fucked him, then walked away
And I don't really wanna to know
So don't tell me anymore
And I really don't wanna hear
About his feet all up in the air
And so, I'm not the one who acted like a hoe
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So, spare me the details if you don't mind
People in the crowd had started singing along, whistling and clapping. A few teachers simply watched on, not trying to stop him. Why should they if his sense of music was great and he wasn't directly targeting someone?
The cheering died down after a while. John still stared at the dance floor. The guy who the song was adressed to was hardly paying any attention; he was to busy trying to eat his girlfriend Eliza's face off.
"Yo Alexander Tonne-of-ham, listen up!" He yelled out. Alex finally pulled away, scowling at John.
The teachers were ready to tackle John off the stage, just in case he started something stupid. Just like they feared, he did.
The microphone was almost touching his lips before he screamed.
There's a little man and he sticks in my mind
He's a pain in the arse and he seems to find
Every bone in my body with an axe to grind
All I got to say about it
You shit me to tears
And I'm makin' this clear
Just give me a break
For fuck's sake
He's got a big car and he drives real fast
But you can't see where you're going with your head up your arse
His voice is kinda muffled 'cause it's full of shit
And all I got to say about it
You shit me to tears
And I'm makin' this clear
Just give me a break
For fuck's sake
Washington was the first on stage, ripping the microphone from the boy's hands. He didn't really object, as he'd already finished the part of the song he wanted to do.
Other teachers ran on, though a few of them had to run to Alex, restraining him. He had his teeth bared into a snarl, his fingers clawed.
John was led out of the builiding, people recording as Alex glared at him, seething. At least five teachers clung to his limbs, holding him steady.
George nudged John into his office, then locked the door behind them. John sat on one of the chairs, sinking into the cushioning.
George sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Son, what was that?"
John put his head in his hands. "I dunno." He mumbled inaudibly.
"Speak up." George sat down on the other side of his oak desk.
"I don't fucking know!" John shouted, lowering his hands abruptly.
George frowned at the bad language, but let it be for now. "You and Alexander used to be so close. What happened?"
"You heard the first song." John snarled.
"Yes, but why did you lash out here?" George asked.
" 'Cause Alex is a dick'ead and his head is too far up his ass to listen to me any other way." John crossed his arms, waiting to see what the principle did.
"Young man, that language is not to be used in this office!" George scolded, slamming his hands on the table. "Now you will be attending detention for the next two weeks in this office!"
John shrugged. "Okay. Can I go?"
George shook his head in frustration. "Yes, you can go home."
John stood and left, after spending a few seconds figuring out the door lock.
* * *
As John slept that night, his phone flashed. Hundreds of notifications were coming up for Twitter. People must have posted the video of him singing and tagged him.
Well, he could face the music tomorrow.
So the first song was Spare Me The Details by The Offspring. The second song was Shit Me To Tears by The Tenants.
