I awoke the next morning to the sun shining into my eyes. I quickly remembered the conversation with Eli last night and groaned, wishing I hadn’t told her everything. I yawned and rubbed my eyes tiredly before leaning forward and flopping onto the floor. I reached my arms out into the pile of dirty clothes next to me and began to dig through it, trying to find a shirt to wear. My hands caught hold of my wrinkled blue Weezer shirt. After inspecting it for stains and odors and finding it satisfactory, I slipped my arms through the sleeves and wiggled my head and torso through it.
Noticing that my mouth was exceptionally dry and filmy, I headed downstairs to get a glass of water from the kitchen. “Morning, mom,” I said when I saw her already in the kitchen fixing lunch.
“Good morning, Bo!” she beamed at me as she churned a bowlful of ingredients I couldn’t see from where I stood at the refrigerator. “Do you and your friends want egg salad sandwiches? They’ll be ready in a minute, and I can send you up with a plate of them.”
“Nah, we’re good,” I answered as I noisily dropped ice cubes into a glass and shuffled over to the sink for water. “Thanks, though.”
“How about some chips, then? I can pour some into a bowl for your father and me, and you can take the rest of the bag up with you.”
My glass of water filled and ready, I strode out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. “No, thank you, mom!” I called over my shoulder as I mounted the first step.
I slowly made my way up the stairs over to Eli’s room. After lightly tapping on the door, I let myself in.
“Hey douchebag,” she smiled at me. “what’s up?”
I shrugged, “Eh, same old, same old, I guess. You?”
“I’m doing pretty okay,” she continued to smile and sat up, patting the spot on the bed next to her. I walked up and sat down, sighing softly.
“You alright?” She asked me, scooting closer. I frowned, focusing my attention on her nightstand.
“Yo, fuckface, you okay?” She asked again. I stayed silent and kept my vision locked on the nightstand.
“Why won’t you answer me?” She whined.
“Talking with you doesn’t bring any real benefits,” I shrugged.
“Okay, that was pretty funny,” she laughs, her laugh growing stronger by the second.
“Alright,” I said finally, “it wasn’t that funny.”
“Oh, no,” she continued to laugh, “I’m not laughing with you, I’m laughing at you.”
I playfully shoved her to the side. “You’re a toolbag.”
“Takes one to know one!” she grins wide at me.
“But anyway,” she said, her smile quickly fading. “are you alright?”
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
What's Funny?
रोमांसBefore Bo Burnham became the sarcastic and whimsical comedian he is today, he struggled with overwhelming anxiety and a severe lack of confidence. This is the story of a summer with his best friend Eli and the events that made him who he is today.
