Heaven Knows

1: Dominic

Heaven Knows OST: ♫ Young & Useless by This Century ♫

Chapter 1: Dominic

Sure thing you probably have heard and read a lot of stories and I bet they all started with Once upon a time and the famous beginning line One day. But mine didn’t start that way.

Because mine started with a tossed coin.

A-huh. It’s a tossed coin. And I stare up at it as it flies into the air, twirling like a paper in slow motion until gravity pulls it down and it sinks low like an anchor into Scott’s hand.

With that I already know what it is going to be. Today I’m gonna get laid.

“Heads.” He says with an asinine smile. He turns to me and I smirk back at him. It’s a sure ball that boys of my age would want to get laid. It’s like being finally out of circumcision.

 But the tossed coin was just a trick of our minds. Even if it turned out to be tails I’d still go out and get myself laid. I don’t want to be left out of the millennium. Heads though was a good sling shot. Throwing his arm around my shoulders, Scott whirls me around to find my providential ladyship.

You see, I live a very untimely normal life where people don’t like to poke on their noses and zombies exist only in video games. School and home though are just two very different environments to be in. School is more like a cacophony with no written words on sounds. And home is a word in bizarre cacophony. Both have its way of perturbing my very existence in this world.

My parents are benign people who live in the world of music. They are people who believe in the power of music. Music is their life. Music is their soul. Blah-blah-blah goes their extreme obsession with it. So they work their asses all day long in creating musical scores for movies (both animated and not) and at weekends they are solid fans of our Catholic church. Which is by the way how I got my name.

Let me just say that my parents are so good people that their comprehensive faith had made them name their son after a saint. Dominic Savio was the name of the boy who became a saint because he’d rather die than to offend Him by sin. It was a good moral value to follow. My parents thought that maybe if they would name me after a saint boy then maybe I’d grow up to be a saint too. They were completely excited about it. But I personally doubt that fact—overly doubt that fact actually when you’re a kid born after Nero burned the Christians. The competition to be canonized as a saint in the 21st century is very slim. I don’t think I’ll get anywhere to perform a miracle to be beatified.

“Dominic Savio is about to get laid today!” Scott shouts it out as if he’s a bell boy announcing a flash news report. And I think it’s rude of him to use my name so casually in his own visceral. It’s blasphemous on my part of course. Most especially for those people who knew the young saint. Sometimes, I really like to hit his head with my balls so he would shut the fuck up.

Scott Orson has been my best friend since second grade. That’s after I taught him how to spell the word grey. He debates that it’s with an “a” and not with an “e”. And since we are so not in America so “e” is the proper letter to spell the word grey. And now I’m stuck with being buddy-buddy with him for the rest of my existence.

“Look at that body, Dom!” he points at a blonde chick with a skirt too short for the good of her tanned legs. She’s pretty, but I’m not into tanned girls. They look like they’ve been skinny-dipping in the sun and ended up dip fried.

When Scott sees my disinterest to his picking, he elbows me and looks on a girl jogging around the park’s fountain. Headphones on and eyes direct on the road. She sure has nice auburn bob and a nice belly button piercing. In fact, she might have a tongue piercing too.