I’m not weird. Or bad. Just misunderstood. My mom, and my sister for that matter, both think they know me. But, they don’t. I don’t apply myself because I don’t wanna apply myself. I don’t wanna go to school. Why should I? When all I wanna be is, well, a rocker. And, I’m gonna be a rocker. I am!
But, all I keep hearing are those words, “As long as you’re living under my roof, you will go to school,” which were my dad’s words, delivered at the top of his lungs, with some real mean pipes, I might add, like Bruce Dickinson pipes, well, maybe not that mean, before my dad up and had a coronary, probably from all that yelling at the top of his lungs, or maybe, more than likely, from all my mom’s oral talent, we’re talking mean oral talent, which I can say, sadly, from experience now, could definitely kill somebody, or at least maim them, not unlike a head-on collision with one of my mom’s mammoth ta-tas, which were Guinness Book ta-tas, my mom and my sisters’ both.
So, now, to go along with my dad’s ghost yelling at me at the top of its ghostly lungs, everyone and their mother seems to think I need to finish school, even my twisted fuck of a grandpa, telling my mom if she can’t get me, the heir to some kind of small fortune, to graduate he’s gonna pull the plug on us, financially, what a prick, like it’s my mom or my sister’s fault I don’t wanna go to school.
Regardless, that’s where I am. Thoroughly stuck. And, that’s where my mom is, thoroughly stuck, thinking she has to get me graduated, somehow, someway, including homeschooling me, in her own, well, fucked-up way of homeschooling. Ugh.
And, if you ask me, this is all very unrocker. I mean, Angus Young wouldn’t put up with this bullshit.