Oliver Chesky: A story about a hopeless nerd

Oliver won’t move a muscle. All that is running through his mind is that the potatoes needed garlic; that and the thought maybe if he doesn’t move, they’ll stop laughing at him.

        But what’s not to laugh at? He’s that tall, skinny, pale nerd with glasses, zits, and dreadful braces. Not to mention he’s never said a cuss word in his life. He’s little-mister-goodie-goodie. Perfect grades, modest clothes, never even kissed a girl before. Heck, he couldn’t even get a date if he wanted-

        Are you done yet?

        Oh right, the story. This poor 6’5” 17 year old boy with ginger-blonde hair is Oliver Chesky. Currently, he is the laughing stock of the cafeteria, literally. They’re all laughing at him because the cool girl, Stephanie, just pushed his head right into his tray. Right now I’m glad I’m not him! I mean, he’s such a loser-

        I thought you were supposed to be my narrator!

        What, a narrator can’t have a laugh at the character’s pain?

        Not usually. Usually, they just narrate! Imagine that!

        Well, that’s no fun.

        Can we please return to the story? I think the writer is about to blow a gasket. Her face is all scrunched up and her fists are clenching…

        Pssh, what can she do to me? I’m the narra-

        *crashing noises*

        … Back to the story now! Hehe… Won’t happen again, miss writer!

        This is what I have to live with…