Eddy the Loser

At a classroom in Georgia, the teacher, Mr. Rickert, was addressing his pupils. He stood at the front, and was speaking about Ernest Hemmingway, and more specifically, the prolific author’s contributions to literature. The entire class was jotting down notes on what he said made Hemmingway on such a great writer, and why he was so successful. Everyone in the class was taking notes, aside from Eddy, who was dressed in all black, had a hoodie over his head, and his page was covered in penis doodles. He sat there, rocking back and forth, until he suddenly hunched over and began to smash his own forehead into the desk, over and over.

“Eddy!” scolded Mr. Reckert. “Take your headphones out and listen up!”

Eddy did, though with a sigh. He sat back and stared back to his teacher.

“I don’t like your attitude young man. I don’t like it at all.”

“Yes, sir,” responded Eddy.

The lecture went on, until, fifteen minutes later, Eddy sat at his desk with his head between his arms, face down.

“Eddy!” shouted Mr. Rickert again, swiftly moving towards the young man then pulling him up by the back of his hoodie. “If you’re not going to pay attention, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room immediately. I will not have you disrupting my class anymore.”

Eddy sat up, shook his head side to side, then muttered under his breath, “How am I disrupting the class by sleeping?”

Mr. Rickert heard him, and yelled back at once. “Young man, that’s it. Principle’s office. Now.”

“Why?” said, Eddy, standing from his seat.

Mr. Rickert folded his arms over his chest. “Because I’m tired of your antics. Always trying to get attention for being a loser, and you’re missing all the important lessons. You realize you’re going to fail literature this semester, don’t you?”

Eddy looked away. “Yes, sir.”

“Then maybe you should take studying more seriously. I hate to be the one who tells you this young man, but you’re in for a rude awakening once you get to the real world.”

“Oh, didn’t know it was a different world than this one,” the boy responded, heading towards the door.

“An attitude like that will get you nowhere in life. You better clean it up now, young man.”

Eddy continued to the door, opened it a creak, then sighed, scratched the back of his head, then turned around, facing Mr. Rickert directly, and spoke with all the other faces looking dismissively back at him.

“Would if this is bull-shit, would if you are wrong. Would if Hemmingway just wrote his own mother-fucking song. Would if this class bores me, ’cause it’s too fast that I think. Would if the lessons you give to me, are not even reaching my own brink. Would I’m not dumb, would if you’re the clown. Would if I’m a writer, and the rest of you are sounds.”

“Eddy, I will have-” Began Mr. Rickert, before being cut off.

“Would if high school bores me, because it really is no test. Would if intelligence abounds me, because I’m smarter than the rest. Would if I’m not so dumb, would if that one is you. Would if I can’t pay attention because my words are actually what is true. So what if I’m a loser, I really do not care. What bothers me the most is that you study what has never once been there.”

“Eddy!” shouted Mr. Rickert. “Enough!”

“Would if you’re all wrong, and really I’m all right. Would if I’m the one who Mr. Hemmingway was like. And say he grew up like me, with teachers who didn’t care. And would if Ernest Hemmingway could see right through their stare.”

“Get out!” screamed Mr. Rickert.

Eddy went on. “Would if you are dull, would if you are weak. Would if all the grades are based on the ability to repeat. Would if I’m creative, would if that is me. Would if I’m the one who knows what it truly means to think.”

“Out!” screamed Mr. Rickert.

“Would if you are boring, would if that is true. Would if it’s not bullshit that I reiterate to you. Would if I am smart, much smarter than the rest. Would if you constrict me with these stupid fucking tests. Would if this is jokeful, all the shit you teach. Would if all your lessons are hogwash that your are told to preach.”

“EDDY!” Screamed Mr. Rickert, pointing out the door. “GET OUT!”

“Why can you not see it, why are you so blind. Why do I spend my whole life trying to show you fucking dumbass guys. Why is it I scare you, why is it that you’re stool. Why is it that these things you teach only make me fucking drool.”

“Dammit young man, do I have to have you escorted out of here?”

“What’s the point of trying, when the prideful think they’re best? What’s the point of learning, when it only brings about distress? For I know of what is wrong, I know of what is right, I know the things you say to me will never help me fucking write. I can see it more clearly, much more clear than you. I feel I understand everything, and yet you make up these imaginary rules. What is writing for? For what does it exist? Why are you so pathetic, and why do you insist? To teach things that don’t work, to teach what isn’t there. I’m pretty sure for Ernest, he didn’t fucking care. I think you are a joke, I think you are a fool, I think all that is wrong with learning, stems from guys like you.”

“That’s it! Detention! One week!”

“Do you want to know, the reasons that I do, do you ever want to know, why I so fucking hate you? Does it ever seem, to anyone but me, does it ever seem like we’re learning all of the wrong things? Does anyone else know, does anyone else care, does any one give a fuck about learning things that are not there? It is a fucking crime, more than half a shame, it is a damn hipocricy when ego’s steal a share. You do not know about me, you do not know the truth, that if Hemingway were here today, he’d like me much more than you.”

After Eddy met with the principal, he was suspended three weeks for inappropriate behavior, indecent drawings and using profanities in the classroom.

– Thomas M. Watt

Press Briefing – Aug. 1, 2013

(McWatty9 is standing at the podium, addressing the nation about the day’s early outlook for the world polls. Reporters are ready with notepads, red lights flicker on at the cameras, and the Watties all tune in to hear their blogger speak.)

McWatty9 – Ladies and gentlemen, I have called this post briefing on behalf of the McWatt news alert issued earlier this morning. As many of you know, yesterday was a dismal day at the world polls. We struggled for visitors, comments were bleak, and two hours into Matt Mullenweg’s fresh new surf day, we still sat dead at zero views.

I know many were worried about the fate of this blog, and still remain petrified that they have chosen a leader not worthy of their following. Let me assure you, we are turning things around, working around the clock in my mind to think up new posts that will grab your attention and keep you here.

Now, there have been many recent developments as of late, and more specifically, the addition of several hot girls to my following. Hot girls, you see, are not just your average followers. When hot girls decide to read what you write and like it, it is a good indication that you are on the right track.

For, as several of our scientists concluded, hot girls are known as what we call in the blogging industry, ‘Actual Humans’. Do not be misled by the simplicity of the term, actual humans account for roughly two point five lives to that of a blogger.

What does this mean? This means that there shall be more to come. Never in the history of the world have hot girls gone to a place without attracting others. In fact, it has come to my attention that the only opinions that ever matter to me, are in fact the opinions of hot girls.

Furthermore, we have already received visits from such nations as Australia and Switzerland, just to name a few. I know many are still wondering if that one guy from India who mis-clicked his way here has yet to return, and I regret to inform you that he still hasn’t.

And so, on behalf of Thomas M. Watt, I am pleased to inform you that tides are shifting, and we are once again heading in the right direction. I would like to personally thank all of the hot girls who have recently visited my site, for in viewing your profile pictures I am overwhelmed with great appreciation.

That is all for now, I hope I have gained some of your likes back, but if not, I will still continue to labor intensely and bring this great blog back to what it once was. That is all for now, thank you.

(McWatty9 leaves the podium, then ignores the barrage of questions as he promptly disappears behind a curtain around the back. Cameras continue to flash even a short while after.)

Let Us Wake

The day begins so fresh and new,

the thoughts that breed creation.

The light of sun and morning dew,

bring us to elation.

The hopes and dreams for what today could be,

will bring us to frustrations.

To complete the goals of dreaming souls,

to commit divine translation.

To bring from God what wisdom taught,

to beat the world’s temptation.

To hear the voice and miss the sounds,

to work hard at work stations.

It is the time to smile bright,

to say this will be new.

It is the time to remind ourselves,

our troubles will be through.

Do not start weary or depressed,

start up ready and refreshed.

Combat the battles that you must,

defend the King from evil’s lust.

Live to conquer and you shall see,

this day the world won’t conquer me.

– Thomas M. Watt

Time to lay to Rest

Time to go to bed,

Time to hit the head.

Time to slow the thoughts,

Time to drown the loss.

Time to ignore what’s known,

Time to silence and dream,

Time to enter realms unknown and all spirits unseen.

Time will make it better, time it always will.

Time will clean up unclean thoughts and what they do to you.

Time will make today erased and tomorrow shine,

Time will make the past decay and bring about more time.

Time not lost and yet unknown,

Time is ripe to see.

Time to mettle in your thoughts and think them in your sleep.

Time to rest your eyes to close, time to dwell in soul.

Time to hear the God that’s there and speaks what’s too unfold.

Time to worry dearly, time to heart it best,

Time to listen to me, it’s time to lay to rest.

– Thomas M. Watt

Larry Clarke

Larry Clarke parked in the driveway. He sat there, motionless, for a good fifteen minutes, staring at an unlit cigarette in his hand, sniffing it several times, before finally sliding it back in with the rest of the pack.

He sighed, exited his mini-van, than approached the front door. He let himself in, and as soon as he did his little eight year old girl, Vanessa, ran to hug his leg.

“Hi, daddy!”

He bent down quickly, smiled and kissed her cheek. “Hey baby. How are you?”

“Good!” She yelled jubilantly.

“That’s great sweetheart.” Larry rubbed her hair, then continued to the kitchen, where he found the woman he had once married busy at work, marinating some chicken.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned over shoulder, raised a single eyebrow, then responded. “Hey.”

Larry scratched the back of his head, moved beside her at the kitchen, then feebly reached his arm out, before retrieving it back into himself. “So, uhh… How are you?”

Rose didn’t turn to him when she answered. “How do you think.”

Larry crossed his arms then let some air sift out through his nostrils. “You know, the therapist said we can work this out.”

“The therapist?” Responded Rose at once, smacking a pan away accidentally after hastily raising her arms. She sighed, then let them droop back down to her sides as she faced him, frowning. “C’mon, Larry. Let’s stop pretending.”

Larry rubbed behind his ear firmly, before grumbling then leaving the kitchen and taking a seat at the family room table. Vanessa ran over to him, then took a seat in his lap.

“Daddy, what’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?”

Larry rubbed her back. “I’m not. Mommy and I were just having an argument, that’s all.”

Vanessa hugged him, smearing her face into his stomach as she did. “Why do you and mommy always fight, daddy?”

Larry winced, with his hand to the back of his head as he did. “You know I love you, right baby?”

Laughing, Vanessa looked up to him. “Of course I do!”

Larry pet her hair back. “Well good. That’s all that matters.”

Rose entered the room, with a coffee mug in hand. She took a seat, sitting at the opposite side of Larry, then smacked her own thigh several times. “Come over to mommy, dear.”

Vanessa jumped off of Larry then did, eagerly joining her mother in a game of patty-cake as they both laughed together.

“You know I hate that Rose.”

Rose looked back to him, dismissively. “Don’t. Not in front of her. Don’t.”

Larry groaned, ran a hand through his thinning hair, then slouched forward. He crossed his arms, began rocking back and forth, then groaned again and stood up, starting to the front door. “I need a cigarette,” he said as he did.

“Of course you do,” She responded from behind.

Larry stopped at the door, hung his head low, then turned back to face her. “You know, you’re really something Rose. You really are.”

“Are what?” She hissed back at him.

Larry scratched the back of his neck intensely, then left to the outside. He returned to his mini-van, found his pack of Marlboro reds, and rushed to light a drag. He lowered the window down, turned on some talk radio, and sat there, listening and doing his best to drown out the thoughts.

Long after the sun had set, he still remained there, all on his own. Finally, he left his seclusion, and returned back inside.

“Enjoy your smoke?” asked Rose, as soon as she saw him.

Larry ignored her, walking straight past and over to Vanessa, who was watching television in the other room with her teddy bear hugged in her arms. He knelt down beside her and pet back her hair.

“You know I love you, right baby doll?”

Vanessa’s eyes remained fixated on the television as she responded. “Of course, daddy.”

“Good. That’s what matters.” Larry moved closer and kissed her on the forehead. He pet her hair back once more, then stood up and left.

Rose stood by the front door with her arms crossed as he approached. “And what, you’re just going to bail now? You know I’m going to win custody, don’t you?”

Larry scrunched his eyebrows to a close, tugged at what remained of his hair, then finally released. He set a hand to Rose’s shoulder, and pushed her out of the way. He exited in silence, closing the door behind.

– Thomas M. Watt

McWatt News Alert

This just in – McWatty9 has zero views at this hour. We are two hours into the new wordpress day, a timezone which is based on Matt Mullenweg’s surf schedule, and has nothing at all to do with the sun or any actual timezone.

The results are still preliminary, but after a local survey with ‘The Watties’ here is what they had to say –

“McWatty9 is going downhill. His stats are plummeting, his genre is reckless, I am getting out NOW,” – top three commenter, chose to remain anonymous.

“Ah. For God’s sake. Stop bringing me into this blog. I don’t know what a McWatt is. You made fun of me last time so please just go away.” – That one guy from India who once mis-clicked onto my site.

“Mcwatty9? Oh, you shouldn’t worry about him! He’ll be fine. He is smart and funny, Oh-hoh-ho!” – King Everything Iz Great, United Kingdom

“Well, we were considering liking him, but then we saw some of his older posts, and decided we can’t just let any buffoon into our club. I say, no.” – sophisticated poet society

Well folks, you’ve heard the verdict – McWatty9, thought earlier this week to be ‘blowing up’, is now on the down and out. What was it that killed this once reputable blogger? What was it that brought his followers to such dismay? Many believe it was his recent venture into poetry, some say it was his posted thoughts on faith, and others believe the public simply had enough of his antics. But the facts are simple – the number of Watties are plummeting, and many fear McWatty9, or, ‘The Immature Humorist’, as the Laugh Track Times recently coined him, is diminishing in the polls. We will have an update later in the day, roughly around the hour Matt Mullenweg decided the universal day should end. Until then, keep staring at this screen and waiting for then to come.