Counterfeit Children (KURT COBAIN)

5. pentagon

kurt came barreling through the hallway of my house after my mother let him in, opening my door without knocking.
"look!" he yelled, jumping onto my bed and shoving a cassette tape into my face.
'telephone free landslide victory?" i said quietly.
"weird title, right?" he smiled.

"i got it at the record store. it's a new release," he said, helping himself to my tape player.

he skipped through songs, his hand on his face.

"ah!"

"club med sucks
authority sucks
i hate golf
i don't wanna play lacrosse

the people there,
they are so stupid
they exploit the poor
and the weak
i want no part
of their
death culture
i just wanna go
to the beach,"

"This is so angsty," i laughed at him.
"it's great, right?"

he did this often, came uninvited, brought me new and unusual things to experience. I enjoyed it.

the songs changed
"i've got a certain special feeling for you,
don't know if it's good or bad,
but i just might give you a call,"

later that day at the park, 5 freaks sitting in a pentagon in the middle of the basketball court, making a crucifix out of sticks and grass.

"hey you guys wanna play truth or dare?" one of the sleazy skater guys kurt hung out with asked.

there was a low hum of agreement.

"okay, scott, truth or dare?" someone asked.
"truth,"
there was a rush of 'pansy's.
"oh shut up, where were you born?"
"fuck that's boring, topeka,"

"kurt truth or dare?" scott asked.
"dare."
"i dare you to kiss gar,"

he leaned over and kissed my lips gently.
"that's how you kiss your grandma, more dude!"
"she's my sister!"
"oh fine,"

and the game resumed.

as we were leaving, scott patted my back a bit.
"I tried," he said quietly.
"what?" i asked him.
"you like him," he said.
i shook my head furiously.
"no, no no no, no. you got that wrong. yuck,"

"denial is the first step, my friend,"

idk if pentagons have 5 sides i've failed like 3 semesters of latin at this point.

uuuh this is terrible but i'm fucking lazy and have terrible writer's block.