Conspiracy of One: The Living Headlights
I just received my license plate from the DMV. I just installed my car speakers. If it wasn’t for that pesky alarm, I’d be done with my car. But consider this: I’m almost done. Little after four months of ownership, I have enforced my will upon my chariot. That is no small feat, yet I still feel I could’ve done this much faster. Tsk tsk, damn quest for perfection wears on me.
Dance is working out for me pretty well, especially the basic class that I sometimes grace people by my presence. There are two girls of particular interest: one that flat out loves to dance, and the other who underestimated my cranial faculties. Of course, you can understand why the dancing queen piques my interest; a no-brainer if you will. However, the other one, this challenging vixen, really intrigues me due to similarities. Who is she similar to, you ask? Simple, me. She reminds me of myself, except for the fact that I routinely gauge others’ intellect before writing them off. She wrote me off, yet I proved why I am the prefect among assholes. I convinced her to admit that her newfound enlightenment is fairly….new. I represent the old establishment, and as per F. Scott Fitzgerald’s magnum opus, the old establishment will always prevail over the nouveau riche. Now, to plan a trip to Fullerton, as I haven’t done that in months.
Closing note: I introduced Jordan’s cousin to the New Talent Initiative last night. He seems to be a willing participant in this experiment. My heart smiles with bliss.
Skibbedebebop. Much later.