"Hey Timmy, are you in there?" My mom called from outside of my bedroom. "I need some help up the stairs."
"GO AWAY MOM!" I screamed back while Smells Like Teen Spirit played in the background. Why didn't my mom understand me? Why couldn't she just leave me alone? So what if she had broken her back last week? All my mom wanted to talk to me about was my addiction to the shindig. My life was hard enough as a 14 year old. I still had homework to do, my friends weren't answering to my texts, and I was hungry. I started crying just thinking about it.
It was in that moment that my life changed. I realized I was different from everyone else. I mean, what other teenager likes Nirvana in this generation? I was unique from every other kid. There was no one like me.
I looked up at my Nirvana, Linkin Park, and Papa Roach posters hung up all around the walls. "These are god tier bands, whoever doesn't listen to these must be fucking plebs." I thought to myself. They made me feel real emotion. Since my girlfriend of three months, Suzanne, broke up with me last month, I had become completely numb. I hate my life.Whenever Last Resort comes on my iPod shuffle, which is very often since I only have four songs, I cry because I can relate to the lyrics so much. It's like they wrote the song for ME.
Suddenly I began to cry harder because I realized I had school tomorrow. "I AM 40538% DONE WITH SCHOOL!" I screamed and went on my tumblr blog. I made my quote into a text post and it got 1,000,000 reblogs. Tumblr was the only society that really excepted me. Besides, I was a lesbian cis-gender conformaphobe privelege checker. I have phobias of basically everything, besides Nirvana. I picked up my guitar.
"OH MY GOD GUITAR IS MY TRIGGER WORD." I screamed and threw my guitar out the window. I had almost forgotten the time that someone tapped me on the shoulder while I was holding my guitar. God, my life was so hard.
Suddenly a black light shone through my window. I suddenly felt warm and comforted.
"Timmy Fruit?" A ghostly voice called out to me. The rasp was hard to miss.
"KURT COBAIN?" I screeched and dropped to my knees. I had dreamed for this moment all of my life. Now all of those "RIP KURT COBAIN" posts I had made on my Instagram were finally paying off. I thought I was an atheist, but now I realize heaven was real.
"No this isn't Kurt Cobain. This is Dave Grohl." The apparition replied.
"But, but, you're still alive!" I shouted, baffled.
Then suddenly the black light faded. All of the sudden Dave Grohl and some guys from Sunny Day Real Estate jumped through my window and the glass shattered onto the floor. They had all of their instruments somehow intact, even though my bedroom was on the second floor. Even the drums. I was too shocked to comprehend what was happening.
"I'VE GOT ANOTHER CONFESSION TO MAKE I'M NO FOOL" Dave Grohl shouted. His voice sounded even better live.
"How did you find me Dave Grohl?" I asked.
"We saw your purchase of three Foo Fighter's shirts from Hot Topic and you were the lucky winner of our sweepstakes. Thanks for being THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST fan." He replied.
Suddenly another car pulled up outside of my house. I could see the black BMW from my window.
"WHO IS THIS? IS THIS ANOTHER PART OF THE SHOW?" I screamed over the loud drums.
"Um, no. Everyone cut." One of the guy's from Sunny Day Real Estate said. We all looked outside, and to our surprise a young man stepped out of the car.
"My day of retribution is coming." The man said and pulled out a rifle.
"OH MY GOD EVERYONE GET DOWN." I screamed and before I could get to my computer to make a new funny post regarding those words, gunshots rang through the air. The last thing I remember is when Dave Grohl looked into my eyes and said "he is dead."
I woke up in a cold sweat. PHEW! It was just a dream. Thank god I didn't actually like the Foo Fighters.
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