| Current mood: | Nobody Checks Blurty |
| Current music: | First To Comment Gets A Prize |
The fans are always right.
As of 7:45 am of last Sunday, I have been promoted to nearing almost half-grown up status.
With nothing but the shirt on my back, the spirit of my soul, and the mandatory WORKING pen/pencil in my pocket, I set off in the blazing Durango to the Thousand Oaks Bay area with one lone destination--The Safety First Driving Academy of the Arts.
A trifle hungry, I pull up to the building complex near Tommy's and Safety First. Fortunately, there was no need to top off the ol' tummy at Tommy's; my Safety First package includes finely catered breakfast and lunch. The bronze academy doors swing open with the sudden gust of church hymn and I enter, nearly tripping over the brochure rack.
Here awaits my godly brunch. Six or seven pre-packaged, stale-resistant, warm bagels lay whining and partially steaming in a chipped basket. Posted for convenience-- "ONLY TAKE ONE (1)".
GARY, the office lady: (Plugging in a chord, scowling) "Don't take two."
Nervously, I edge past her into the main classroom. The class is functionally designed with five rows of table desks, seats aplenty. Giggling cardboard and foil mock roadside signs litter the ceiling, hanging from purple yarn and felt, chatting quietly about the prospects of recess.
Mr. Leslie, my instructor, hands me my plain blue progress folder which has been lazily dressed in a Safety First company sticker, sighing the Safety First company motto, "We don't cut any corners."
Crying briefly, I take a seat, not sitting directly next to any of the strangers or Latino gang members drawing pictures of me being killed on napkins.
Three girls with characature figures sit down across from me, frowning and clearing their throats. In front of them sits The Coolest Kid Ever, sporting foot high surfer hair spikes and a sidekick named Kerns who is about ten and has an arm cast. Both carry Coca Cola's, and The Coolest Kid Ever wears a clever shirt with clever orange text on the back--"Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined." In his arms are two separate Pac Sun jackets, one bright blue and one bright green. In his efforts to impress the girls behind him, he jokes about gays and switches jackets every ten minutes or so. Most awing, however, is the build-up of white lint atop his hair, that always seems to be growing.
Mr. Leslie quietly begins to expel dry-erase marker onto the whiteboard, "a few things too remember..." This subtle joke sets our stage.
ACT I, SCENE i
The scene opens with MR. LESLIE, the driving instructor, introducing himself to the students. His face is constantly shiny with sweat and beer, and his hair has a tendency to disobey. He has a pot-belly and a checkered shirt four sizes too large, along with a pair of signature hiking boots. On his old high school bowling team he was sarcastically nicknamed "The Human Horseshoe" because he was just damn bad luck.
MR. LESLIE: (Shouting loudly into his fist) "Name's Mr. Leslie. Gonna be your driving instructor, for those of 'un who still dunno. Personally, been in seven major accidents, lost my license at 18. So don' worry, I think we're all still learnin', right." (After a dead pause) "Funny, yeah? But I'm serious."
THE COOLEST KID EVER sniggers, and MR. LESLIE whinnies.
MR. LESLIE: (Scratching his knees) "Now wait. Gotta take this class seriously, I'm serious. An' no horsing around. Hey, take that lint out of your hair."
THE COOLEST KID EVER: (Rocking around awkwardly in his chair, playing it up for the ladies) Oh yeah, sorry. (He de-lints.)
Enter montage of MR. LESLIE stopping class to yell at THE COOLEST KID EVER to keep taking the regenerating lint out of his hair over and over again, while KERNS quivers. End montage.
STUDENT: (Eating quietly) "What happens when the person making a left turn--"
GARY, the office lady: (Kicking down the small door, holding a pistil, screeching) "I'LL KILL YOU LESLIE, YOU PIG! YOU PIIIG!!"
Suddenly a GANG MEMBER brandishes a switch-blade and drives it through GARY'S back with a grunt. Choking violently, GARY slips dramatically to the floor in a ruddy bath of blood. The GANG member stands awkwardly with the knife in his shaking hand for a long while, eyeing the shocked faces around the room nervously, panting.
MR. LESLIE: (Softly) "Fuck, man."
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