Wait, when you say “they” made me a moron, are you talking about video games?
Mom came over to the dorm this morning to drop off some laundry and a batch of fresh-baked lemon bars. It was a surprise visit, and she found me wearing this shirt, torn in shreds, and held together with safety pins. She flipped out. But in a good way.
She was just so excited that I’d apparently embraced the values of the punk movement. She was really big into punk, I guess, back in the day, way before I was born. So she was just beside herself that her kid would be interested in the same stuff. She started going on about how proud she was that I’d evidently started bucking convention, and taken on an in-your-face attitude, and adopted the same anti-authoritarian values that she had way back when.
Boy, was she jazzed about it. She was telling me all the old records she was going to dig out and dub to CD so I could hear them. She was listing these old-people bands that I had no idea who they were, but I smiled and nodded and said “right on” and whatever. She hugged me before she left, pinched my cheeks, and called me her “little nihilist.” It was so weird.
I wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t a fashion statement. What am I going to do, come clean? This shirt just fell apart from wearing it to cut class and play Mario Kart all day, 54 days in a row. Yeah, she would not be pleased about that at all.
So now I guess I have to go get something pierced before I come home for Thanksgiving vacation, or I’ll break her heart.
Wear this shirt: when THEY MAKE YOU PUT MORE ON
Don’t wear this shirt: in a fascist regime. What business do you have hanging around in fascist regimes, anyway?
This shirt tells the world: “Your figurehead is not in the castle she seems.”
We call this color: Punky Royal Bluester
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