~ Prologue ~
Why are you reading this? Is it because you’re bored, and you have nothin’ else to do? Or, is it because it sounds interesting? You may be asking yourself, ‘What’s the point in this story?’ Well, I’m only telling you this story because it’s me; it’s my life. And, if you have a problem with my story, then you have a problem with me. But, I don’t think you want to have a problem with me, do you? Thought not. What, you do? Have you even seen the last guy who had a problem with me? You just might want to consider changing your mind before reading this--What’s that? You already did? Well, that great news! Yes, now you can go on with reading about me, but, please, keep in mind this paragraph. Come on, you already forgot what I just explained to you? *Sigh.* I’m not going to tell you again; if you forget, come back here, and just read it again. Yeah. It’s that simple.
So, here I am at a stadium on a stage telling my life story. Would you like to learn my name first? Well, if must know, my name is Kristi--
“Hey, Kristi!” my brother called out to me.
“What? I’m in the middle of telling the prologue! I got to say my last name, too, you know.” I whined back to him.
“Remember what the author told us--”
“She likes to be called the Stage Manager.”
“Why not the author, or just her name?”
Just then, the “Stage Manager” stepped out from behind the curtain. “Because, I want to be different from other writers, and have my professional--Profess--Prof--What the hell is that name again?”
“Profession.” some crew member called out from behind the curtain.
“Thank you! I want my profession to be called ‘Stage Manager’. Go on, Kristi.” the Stage Manager left the building.
“Oh, thank god! I thought she’d never leave! Okay, wait. Hey, bro!” I totally forgot what was happening!
“Yes?” he responded with. Gee, real original, brother. You couldn't even try to be funny in your response?
“Uh, what was happening again? I forgot.”
“You always do. Why wouldn’t you this time?” he smirked. “Alright, I was about to tell you; the author--”
“Right. Right. She wanted for us not to tell people the last names of people.”
“So...Where did I leave off with?”
“Oh, you were about to introduce yourself and us to them.” he reminded me.
“Oh, yeah! My name is Kristi, well, let me first introduce the others first, then me. Sound good?”
“Well, not according to plan, but okay.” my brother said.
“Well, too bad. Why haven’t you shown yourself, yet? Come out here, Jake!” I yelled out his name.
A collective applause filled the room, along with some hollers, wolf-whistles, and stuff thrown up here (like roses, money, bras, and some--Dare I say it?--Condoms. Yeah. Okay, moving along).
“Hey!“ Jake yelled while running on the edge of the stage, and giving hive-fives to people.
“Oh, get over here!” I told him, then pulled him by the collar of his shirt, away from his adoring fans. Weird ass.
“Alright, let’s get going. This is Jake, my older brother, and he’s 19 years old.” I started out with. “His birthday is soon, though, for all you fans out there. His dislikes are: toast--”
“BOO!” someone from the audience yelled. “Toast is awesome!”
“I know, right? He also doesn’t like annoying bitches. He hates bugs, well, bugging him. And he absolutely loathes doing the laundry. I guess he doesn’t really mind anything else. His favorite bands are Avenged Sevenfold, Hollywood Undead, and Papa Roach. You got anything else to add, Jake?” I asked him.
“Yeah, uh--” he started out with before I interrupted.
“Alright, that’s all the time I have for you, sorry.” I pushed him off the stage, behind the curtain.
“Hey!” he yelled at the last minute. There were a few snickers, giggles, and chuckles from the audience.