It's always difficult to see people in horrible crisis, especially children. That's why it pains me so much to see teens, still rich with the potential for cool and sexy lives, strangled by the choking ivy of dorkness. This book will be both a cautionary tale for prospective parents and a melacholy ode to all the full-on geeks out there. You are not forgotten:
Palms pressed to the shop window glass, Barrett peered intently at his fate. His eager breath, thick with the pheromones of tragically non-sexual longing, fogged his view of his inanimate beloved. Beyond the transparent barrier lay a spanking new edition of Magic: The Gathering cards.
"Hey douche," intoned Cal Nathan, a member of the school's well-adjusted elite. His entourage was already in pre-cackle. "Store's closed. Maybe they have that shit at Suck 'R' Us." Now the guffaws came. And could the cool kids be blamed? Magic cards were -- and are -- the equivalent of eating pig excrement in front of a school assembly.
And yet Barrett simply didn't know. Earlier that day, an exchange with his father, Daniel:
"Honey, what's the plan for the day?" Dad was ensconced in Scientific American.
Barrett couldn't hide his glee. "The new Magic cards are out -- I'm so psyched! Gonna go pick 'em up I think!" He nervously wiped aspirated spit from the corner of his mouth.
From behind the magazine's cover image of some type of nebula, Barrett's father said nothing. His son had just enthusiastically admitted to something as self-destructive as cutting, or taking home ec seriously. After a moment, realizing his son had said something, he looked up from his magazine. The front door was swinging shut. The bullet of social suicide was out of the gun.
If this book can help just one kid not get the crap kicked out of him, I'll be thrilled. Thrilled and jealous.
Palms pressed to the shop window glass, Barrett peered intently at his fate. His eager breath, thick with the pheromones of tragically non-sexual longing, fogged his view of his inanimate beloved. Beyond the transparent barrier lay a spanking new edition of Magic: The Gathering cards.
"Hey douche," intoned Cal Nathan, a member of the school's well-adjusted elite. His entourage was already in pre-cackle. "Store's closed. Maybe they have that shit at Suck 'R' Us." Now the guffaws came. And could the cool kids be blamed? Magic cards were -- and are -- the equivalent of eating pig excrement in front of a school assembly.
And yet Barrett simply didn't know. Earlier that day, an exchange with his father, Daniel:
"Honey, what's the plan for the day?" Dad was ensconced in Scientific American.
Barrett couldn't hide his glee. "The new Magic cards are out -- I'm so psyched! Gonna go pick 'em up I think!" He nervously wiped aspirated spit from the corner of his mouth.
From behind the magazine's cover image of some type of nebula, Barrett's father said nothing. His son had just enthusiastically admitted to something as self-destructive as cutting, or taking home ec seriously. After a moment, realizing his son had said something, he looked up from his magazine. The front door was swinging shut. The bullet of social suicide was out of the gun.
If this book can help just one kid not get the crap kicked out of him, I'll be thrilled. Thrilled and jealous.
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