A month ago, I was back at a former step dad of mine's house for the first time in years. My little brother was out there and my wife was doing something with her family, so I ran out to see him. After exchanging the usual small talk, my little brother said to me, “you know, you still have a bunch of stuff out in the shop, right?” The “shop” is a very large shed, for clarity. So my brother and I ventured out to the shop and plunged into some memories. I found some really cool stuff out there. Mostly notebooks and crap from when I was probably 13 or so. I've talked a little bit on this site about how I don't remember enough about my youth, so flipping through this kind of stuff has always made me very happy.

 

I found a notebook in there and I was hooked instantly. The first page was a contract for 8 wrestling shows signed by 5 of my friends. It couldn't get much better than that. Some other highlights include: a whole lot of KoRn drawings; a list of things “to buy”, with “drumset” underlined 4 times; my friends' “to buy” list, with one of the items being “Canadian money”; and a shit ton of fake wrestlers for a fake wrestling organization. I happened across something rather dumb at the end and, for whatever reason, I have decided to share it. I started writing a book. Apparently I ran out of ideas or time or inspiration...

 

A quick aside! Speaking of running out of ideas, it's been 3 weeks since I've written anything for PINM! What the fuck am I doing?! Seriously, could you answer that for me, it wasn't rhetorical. I have probably started 15 things in that time and you have seen zero of them. Why? Because they were awful! Hell, I even wrote a post about how bad all of my posts I was working on was! That's when you know shit is getting real. Anyway, back to where we were.

 

… because the story just ends. I have decided to finish it here, for you, loyal readers because you stuck with me. You deserve this. I have added some small notes in brackets, but didn't change much. Full disclosure: I did change “righting” to “writing”. Just trying to save face here, folks. I was in 7th grade. Get ready. This reads a lot like something a 12-14 year old would write. Chapter 1 and 2 were all I had written back then, chapter 3 is me finishing my masterpiece.

 

Chapter 1

 

It was hot, real hot. [This is exactly how I would start a story now because I am still a hack] I didn't know if I could take much more of it. I was in school. I was bored so I started to write a song about a kid who gets picked on. He didn't like it and one day he did something about it. [Pearl Jam did this already, but probably not as good] The song was called “Revenge”, [I was way cooler back then] but don't worry, it wasn't about me. So, I was in class and I was writing the chorus. It went “why do you pick on me, just let me be. I can't take it, I can't take any more of this...” [Jesus...] “Taylor!” That's my teacher, Mr. Dean [Not a real teacher], he's okay, when he's not screaming at me. “What is this?” he shouted. “It's a song I'm working on for my band”, I said as “smart-alek” [Smart ass was not something I would have written on paper, lest my mother would find it] as I could. “You're in a band?” he asked in disbelief. “Yeah”, that's all I wanted to say. “What's the 'band' called?” I felt myself struggle to find an answer. “We don't know” “What?”, he said, starting to laugh, “You don't know?” After that he and the rest of the class burst out laughing. He didn't know it then, but it helped me come-up with more parts to my song.

 

Chapter 2

 

We were in my car [My mom's car] driving back to my hometown, Wilton, and I was getting bored. I started writing on my song, but it was hard with my sister bugging me every two seconds. We were on our way back to my [step father at the time] farm, but don't worry, I'm not a hick. [Who am I talking to and why did I care if they thought I was a “hick”?] I like my heavy metal and I like my Metallica, KoRn [Yes, the “R” was backwards], Limp Bizkit, Cold and Staind [I didn't know anything about metal]. No one can take that away from me. [Except for growing up] My mom said I could bring my friend [Brandon] Baumbach with me to see another one of my friends, Braden [Hendershot]. Braden plays guitar in my band. Baumbach plays bass [This never actually happened]. “Mom, can we go to dad's when we get home?” “No, you guys should stay with us for once”. That got me mad, I wanted to see my dad and spend time with him. “That sucks”, I said. “What?!” She screamed. “Nothing”.

 

Chapter 3

 

We got to the farm. It was hot, real hot. My drumset was back in Larimore, so we needed to go to my cousin Jamie's to play on his dad's drumset. “Mom”, I shouted, “we need to go to Jamie's!” “No!”, she screamed, “You need to spend time with us and stop praising the devil with your awesome heavy metal like KoRn and Cold!” I got sad because those were two of my favorite bands! How could she say that to me? Me and Baumbach walked away. “Someday, we're going to be big rockstars and not have to put up with this poop” He agreed. We hatched a plan to break out of the house and hitchhike into town. We were on a farm, you'll recall, but I am no hick! Don't you dare think I am. I like heavy metal! So we busted out and made our way to Jamie's. We got there and Jamie was like, “what's up, dudes?” “No time! Must rock!”, I said. Braden was already there with his guitar and amp and he was plugged in and he was like, “let's go guys!” I sat down, counted to four with clicks of my stick and we proceeded to play the greatest song in the history of mankind. We were no Cold, but we were pretty sweet. My uncle came downstairs and he said, “what's your guys' name?” I still didn't know. Braden shouted “Deadfall Dynasty!” and it was written in stone. My uncle then went on a diatribe about how we should be more like the greatest, most versatile, most well respect band ever: “ZZ Top”. The End.

 

I tried to mimic my old writing style, but I probably laid it on a bit too thick. Sorry about that.

 

So, what the hell? This “story” was clearly started in class and I was clearly upset with a teacher. My style back then is almost as bad as my style now. At least back then I didn't rely on repetitive crap and an awful sense of humor, but this is the path I've chosen. The interesting part, to me, of course, is how the second “chapter” is completely different. That means I started this story and picked it up again later. It's also kind of remarkable how my real life feelings kind of bleed through at the end. I always wanted to go to my [step] dad's house instead of sitting at the farm. That farm sucked. It was boring and hot, real hot. (See?! Repetive crap!)

 

So that is my terrible story from a notebook for what feels like a lifetime ago. You probably don't care, but I had to power through something. I need to get back on this fucking horse and once hockey started, my ideas dried right up. I promise I'm going to start doing some real shit on this site. Thank you for coming back.