“The reason I like communism is…”
These were the first words that came out of the mouth of the one, the only, the Derrick. Some may call him an idiot, others may call him idiotically handsom. That’s what Amira would call him.
Amira sat straight up, staring at Derrick as he read the scribbles he made on a wrinkly paper. This was government class, and Derrick was a hunk. Why was he a hunk? I’ll let Amira tell you:
He’s a man of culture and the arts, yet also a man who likes simple beauty. For instance, he drew facial hair, a mullet, and glasses on Ms. Petrinski’s face when she was sleeping. Art. As another example, he planted a stink bomb in the cafeteria. Simple beauty. And he’s so smart, handsome, and brave, AND he has such a way with words.
Unfortunately, he was not particularly smart, handsome, or brave, and he did not have a way with words. He had Fs in all the classes he did not have Ds in, his hair looked like a hectic black scribbling made by a toddler, and he buttered up the teachers who, if they were any normal teachers, would have given him demerits. As for his way with words…
“The reason I like communism is it’s all about the community, man. You can find communists in your neiborhoods, your groovy houses. Communism means to be all about community, and communication, and communion.”
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The teacher, Ms. Petrinski, stood mouth agape, frozen in shock.
Lord, spare this sad little man, for he knows not what he says.
“So it’s all like, peace and love, bro dawg. Listen, you scroungy peeps. Communism–it’s like socialism. Duuuuuuude, socialists are the best! They’re so outgoing and talkative, and they really thrive in social settings. So like, yeah. Communists are like socialists, which are like, totally psychedelic, duders. Be better. Be a communist.”
The mighty Derrick went back to his seat, and the whole class was left speechless. Well, the whole class excluding Amira who was giving the boy a roaring round of applause.
The question of yours truly, Yumbo, becomes this: what does she see in that dingus? I suppose it’s not my place to say, but Derrick really is a sad little man. He can only focus on inking teacher’s faces, and he can’t get a job, so he doesn’t have money, so he doesn’t have a gosh dang freaking drink insulator!
Oh, I said that, didn’t I? Do you think I’m going to get in trouble for bad-mouthing Amira’s crush?
Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, Amira can’t hear my kind anymore. She has given up her childlike creativity and moved on to angstier pastures. Somewhere in the wasteland of good things Derrick has to offer, she found something special to her. As for what it is, who could say? Love, or in this case, a brief crush lacking sanity, works in mysterious ways.