And so, we come to the end of this tale of ours. Not with a bang, but with a tweet. This is gonna make sense after a few moments, but you will praise me for being witty and clever when you do.
See, here's the thing: I can't avoid my nature. None of us do. We can huddle together, sing kumbaya, and jerk off in the woods while tossing firecrackers at old man McGee's chickens, but the fact is, we are bad boys. For better or for worse. Mostly for worse.
But sometimes, just sometimes, being a bad boy can be used to our advantage. Do you wanna stan me? Fine. Do you wanna break into my house to smell my dirty underwear and add them to the altar you built of me in your closet? I can't stop you. Wanna make a raunchy Wattpad fanfiction of me and you set in the same universe as "My Immortal"? Don't ever show that shit to me, but otherwise, it's inevitable, I guess. That's part of the curse.
But it also comes with benefits. See, when a bad boy wants to do something, they achieve it. Be it being a rich CEO, an asshole tennis player, or a mildly-infuriating right-wing commentator. Except not being a bad boy, of course. That's like asking God to make a paperclip so heavy he can't lift it. Waste of metal, and also of a good paradox.
We are going to have a club. That's not up for debate. If we have to dip into our bad boy power to do so, then so be it. We walk in the dark so...uh...something about the light.
Look, let's get this over with. I'm as embarrassed as you are about this whole shtick.
I highly overestimated Billiam's ability to actually make a decent article. It took Grammarly an hour to make head or tails of whatever the fuck he was saying, and another one of us trying to convince him that no, "moustache" doesn't have an "u, " and that Oxford commas are there for a reason, and that not using wasn't "an aesthetic" choice.
Neither is describing the student council as a, and I quote, "Neo-liberal den of capitalist cuck-servatives swines hell-bent of taking our freedom to chill." Not entirely inaccurate, but kinda muddles the point.
In the end, we only have about ten minutes to spare. Ten minutes to use our bad boy powers to make a miracle happen.
I would say it's gonna be easy, peasy, lemon squeezy, but I'm feeling stressy, depressy, lemon zesty. I hope Hayden and Brayden manage to pull through their end of the plan.
I grab the doorknob, and, to the surprise of nobody, I turn it to open.
Let the game begin.
9'59"
I step in with Hayden and Brayden to find three people sitting on the far side of the room. Two of them will be omitted 'cuz I don't have the time for monologues. The one in the middle is the most important one.
Lee Vazquez.
"Ah, if it isn't Mr. Gomez, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Messina-Park," says Lee without a shred of feeling or surprise. "I was wondering when you were going to show up. It is rude to keep a lady waiting."
I open my mouth to make a witty retort, maybe something about her not being a lady or something, but Brayden has to chime in like a weirdly emo master of ceremony in a small town wedding and ruin everything.
"i don't know who this mr. messina-park fella is, for i am don panini almordoba," he says, twirling his mustache, "but i'm sure that, whoever he is, he has a great head of hair, and a huge di-"
"Anyways," I interrupt before he gets us put on the naughty list, "we are on time, right?"
"Barely," she says while looking at her wristwatch. "Did you manage to find a fourth member for your merry band of misfits?"
"Hayden," I say with a head gesture. He knows what to do.
He approaches the table with the three people and slams the sign-up sheet with all the gusto of a wet brisket marinated for three months in a delicious garlic and rosemary paste. A simple word, like a bat out of hell, comes out of his mouth with the same force.
"Nope."
8'43"
The paper is as-it-is. Meaning, only the name of us three.
"I see," says Lee, pushing the paper back towards him with two fingers like a sassy librarian. "Do tell me, Mr. Hayden, why would you present an application that is clearly against the new regulations?"
"I'm glad you asked," says Hayden. "Ayden, do you mind taking it from here?"
"Certainly."
8'04"
"You see," I say, sitting on the table as if it were a pool table on a dingy bar downtown. I swear I just heard one of the girls next to Lee swoon. "I propose that the rule change you penned is discriminatory against bad boys. I accuse you, Lee Vazquez, of abusing your power as a school council president to discriminate against bad boys!"
She takes a moment to blink incredulously, followed by a few extra blinks, only to finish with an "okay?"
"So, are you admitting it?" I ask.
"No, I'm just taken aback by the most stupid dribble I've heard since the presidential debates. You pick the one. Whichever. How can you say that with a straight face?"
6'28"
I turn around to face the swooning girl. Let's call her...Renesme, 'cuz she looks the part. I give her my best smirk and she practically becomes putty in the seat. Woe of the janitor who has to clean that up. "You, random person. Did you ask why this sudden decision to change the requisite for club forming came out of the blue?"
"W-w-well, no," she says by trembling and quivering so much that her body vibrated the air around her to form a response. "W-w-we j-j-j-just do what she a-a-"
"Asks, right. How about you, muchacho?" I say to the other person sitting next to Lee. "You know why? I'll tell you why, since we don't have enough time to establish a personality for you."
5'40"
"I happened to mention to Ms. Vazquez over here that I was looking to create a club with my two friends over here. She then tried to persuade me to join the student council instead. I said no, and then magically, the rules change. Do you see this? She is using her power to block us, a historically disenfranchised people, from forming a group."
Lee leans back on her chipped chair, a half-smile formed against her face. She's clearly enjoying this.
5'01"
"So, let's say, hypothetically speaking, that you're right," she says. "That I changed the rules to stop you from forming a club. How in this whole scenario can you say you, the bad boys, are historically disenfranchised people being victimized?"
"Are you kidding me?" I say. "We are objectified every day. Our like is used in fetishistic fantasies every day. They see us as mysterious, far-off people that cannot be assimilated into society because they are all smirk, abs, and raw bravado, when in fact, we are just people who want to fit in."
"Not to mention the labels," says Hayden, also trying to lean on the table, but he is so heavy that he gets off the second a sickening crunch creates a crack between two particularly big chips. "Bad boys. Why bad? What have I done wrong to be called bad? You know how hard I've worked to do good in life for you people to call me a bad boy because of some genetic snafu that I can't control? Am I bad just because I was born?"
The two student council members are shaking, but not Lee. She is cool as a cucumber, and just about as bumpy.
4'28"
"So that's your approach," she says. "Fascinating."
"So, you admit it?" asks Hayden.
"Ah, but that's the thing, I don't have to admit anything," she says. She stands up, Ileana the hem of her skirt, and looks at her watch. "See, in life, just like in a court of law, the burden of evidence falls on the accuser. You are accusing me of what again? Abuse of power and discrimination against bad boys? Fine. Then prove it."
Bingo. I can barely contain my shit-eating grin as she activates my trap card. You see, she's smart, and she knows it. But I know she knows she's smart. But I'm smarter than the smartest smart she thinks she is. She thinks she smarted me out of a win, but I have outsmarted her smarting.
I stand up, ruffle my leather jacket, and adjust my dark glasses. "Well, in any other situation, you will be right! I would have to prove, with evidence, in front of my peers, that you did. Except, you've failed to account for something."
"Oh yeah? What would that be?"
"I'm not accusing you in front of normal people, or my peers, or even people with a modicum of logic. I'm accusing you on Twitter. Brayd-Don Panini, hit it!"
"finally, i've done nothing this chapter," he says as he takes out his phone and presses the send button.
The fun is about to begin.
3'00"
Every cell phone in the room starts ringing and vibrating uncontrollably. Well, Renesme was already ringing and vibrating uncontrollably, so no change there.
Lee takes her phone out and places it on the table. It's vibrating so much that it started to dance. I swear I see it do the nae-nae at some point.
"What the hell is happening?" she asks.
"oh, nothing. i just tweeted, instagrammed, facebook'ed, pintersted, snapchatted, myspaced, youtubed, and sent a little wattpad notification to my combined thirty-six million followers with the link to an article made by my main man robby-"
"Billiam," I say.
"potato, tomato, same difference. thing is, it's a nice article that lays all we throwing down, and we went all out. we even added pictures of puppies and shit. and it's lit a-f. as in, trash fire lit."
Lee looks a bit lost, like a puppy without an owner, or a kid lost in IKEA, only to be confronted by the warmth of the meatball machine. "I don't follow."
Hayden smiles and puts one of his huge pastrami hands on my shoulders, joining me in the feces-consuming smile club. "It means you're getting canceled, sis. Which reminds me..."
2'20"
Hayden slips her a letter, signed by a lot of people that look like they have received one hit to the head too many. I guess that's what he meant when he said he was gonna get help from some "pound bros."
Lee takes the letter and inspects it. "What is this?"
"That, sister, is a letter signed by every member of the Hill Valley Mountain Woods football club stating that we will not be participating in the opening game with our rivals, Valley Mountain Woods Plateau High, and will stand in solidarity with us. A copy of this letter should be arriving at the desk of Principal Strickland anytime now."
And lo and behold, who comes barreling in like a chunky pug running on a soapy floor? Mrs. Strickland herself.
1'30"
"What in the Kentucky Fried Hell is happening here?" she yells. At least I think she yells. The sound of vibrating phones and Renesme squealing like a squeaky toy drowns her out. "Why am I getting doxxed? We have protestors outside for fuck's sake! Leeleight Vazquez, what is this thing about abuse of power?"
Wait, Leeleight? Her name is Leeleight?
It is right now, dear reader, that an epiphany is being made. See, here I was thinking she was fighting against bad boys because she knew what a threat we are. It was unfair, sure, but I got it. But now, I understand. I understand why she is so adamant against us. Why we are attracted to each other.
She's a totally average girl. And she's like me as well. I see it in her eyes. I'm sure she has been harassed by bad boys all her life. Saved by muggings monthly, if not weekly, by some weirdo with a God complex and a schizoid personality. She, too, has been cursed. And like us, she has found a way to cope with it. To hide inside the only thing that can bring down any bad boy, that can make us wince and retreat in fear.
Bureaucracy. Mild, middle-managing high-school bureaucracy.
1'00"
Lee looks staggered. Her phone iss blowing up so much that it's doing Fortnite dances now.
"guess who just liked my post? mr. beast himself. this is gonna blow up."
"What is the meaning of this, Leeleight? I thought you were better than this! This is terrible for the school! I'm up for review this month. I can kiss my Superintendent promotion goodbye for this!"
0'30"
"Oh, baby! The basketball team just joined the protest!"
"a wapo reporter just retweeted me. this is wild. hey, my shrek x edward cullen fanfic, 'get in my swamp,' just got featured on wattpad!"
0'10"
Lee sits down, takes a deep breath, then grabs her phone and slams it against the table over and over again until a chunk of the table flies off. The room, just like her cellphone, turns dead quiet, and a little worse for the wear.
A flash of hate and rage was over her in a second, turning her face into a twisted mess of wrinkles, spittle, and something not unlike a very furry badger. But it only lasts for a second before turning back into her serene self.
"Okay, you win. Vote to suspend the current ruling and return to the three-minimum student required?" she says in one breath while raising her hand.
The other two do so as well without a moment's notice.
0'00"
You just witnessed a miracle.