The scene begins tonight with Dorito coming down the staircase inside the house, and steps onto the main floor and walks along the white wall, dragging a finger low, brushing against it, while he wears a pair of black Tripp pants with blue stitching, and an open blue and black button dragon-styled shirt. He walks around the corner, turning to his right to go toward the kitchen as the freezer door at the top of the refrigerator swings open and smacks him square in the forehead. He whimpers, bellowing out his agony as he stumbles backwards, losing his balance as the back of his knees touch a dining chair, where he falls sitting down onto the chair, his arm draped over the back of it. Meanwhile, the door vibrates back in the direction for which it came, where it shuts and Molly stands there to look over at Dorito, who is holding his head in pain.
Molly: Hey D.
Dorito doesn't reply, just holding his head with the bottom of his palm and pinky finger rubbing his eyes back and forth, his head hanging over somewhat, as she stares at him, for the few moments that slowly pass by with no response.
Molly: Ugh, whatever.
She walks out of the small kitchen, going by him as Alicia, Christy, Angel, CJ, and Chris walk out of Alicia's bedroom, with Molly walking around the dining area and going straight over. All of whom are dressed in rave clothing, consisting of PVC, vinyl, mesh shirts, and more of various color and such. Dorito sets his elbow on the table, to better balance his arm as he sits there, rubbing his buzzing forehead.
Molly: This is going to be such fun, guys!
CJ: Totally.
Angel: My friends Jessica and Jenn are going to have the the most ragin' eighteenth birthday blast ever!
Alicia: So what did you tell your parents you were doing?
Angel: Going to see a movie with Chris, even though he's totally too old and if my parents ever met him, they'd flip.
Christy: Yeah, until you told him he was a pro wrestler, then they'd give him the same talk they gave to Dorito.
Angel: Ha, that was so funny. And I felt so bad for him.
Angel walks over to Dorito, still in pain, everyone else unaware, and she noogies him for a second or two before smacking him in the top of his head with her palm. She laughs as she turns and skips back while Chris extends his hand toward the door.
Chris: Shall we go, ladies?
Molly: If you mess tonight up, I swear, I'm gonna have your balls on a plate.
He gulps, as they stare at one another, while Angel and Alicia laugh as CJ goes to open the front door.
Christy: I'm sure you could make one of your movies doing that.
Molly: You know, hun', now that you mention it, that does sound like an appealing idea.
Angel, Alicia, and CJ exit from the house, while Molly grins at Chris, who raises his eyebrows, having a slight look of fear upon his face.
Molly: Come on, we'll talk more on the ride back, IF you do anything.
Christy: Lighten up dude, she's just kidding.
He swallows his fear as Molly follows after the other three women.
Chris: That's cool, I so knew she was. Cause come on-I'm the "Hardcore Kid" Chris Matthews!
Molly: (Turning Back) No, I'm not kidding, and if you fuck up tonight, the most hardcore thing you'll be doing is taking a piss. Now let's go!
She walks off, heading outside as Chris gains his look of fear back, an empty expression on his face. Christy smirks while looking up at him, then pats him on the shoulder twice before hooking her arm around his.
Christy: You know Chris, it is Molly, and you know how she is.
Chris: That's why I'm scared.
Christy: Heh, you should be. Now come on.
She takes a step, tugging him, resulting in Chris moving forward along with, and they go to leave the house, walking out into the night as they shut the door behind them. Meanwhile, Dorito begins to shake his head and brings both his hands up, rubbing his temples for a couple of seconds before pulling his hands down across his face, going over his eyes and bring them together over his nose.
Dorito: Oh man.
He sits there, resting as time creeps on, losing a few minutes of his life before pulling his hands away from his face and yawning.
Dorito: Wow, so what are you guys up to?
He pauses for a few moments, then turns to look over at the door to Alicia's room as he utters, "Guys?" He shuts his eyes for a few seconds, then re-opens them, blinking rapidly a number of times.
Dorito: Where the hell did they all go?
He looks over onto the dining table, focusing on the cordless phone sitting in the middle of the near-empty table. He reaches over, wrapping his hand around the device, and pulls his arm back. He turns it over, looking at the number pad, and begins keying in a phone number. He sets the phone to his ear, listening as the phone rings on the other end.
Dorito: Hello? ...Where the hell did you guys go? ...Like I knew. Molly nails me in the face with the freezer door and nearly knocks me out and nobody gives a shit? And I've got the biggest headache possible right now and you guys all disappear. ...Well I could be unconscious or have a concussion or something, passed out on the ground, and nobody cared. That's real nice. ...Whatever. So where'd you guys go? ...Party? What party? ...And nobody said anything to me? ...I don't care if there is drinking or not. Since whenever is drinking a requirement at a party? I see no need for it because your life can be a whole lot worse off, Alic', than to have to resort to that because you're so fucking depressed. ...Yeah, whatevah. ...I don't care, you still could have been polite enough and shown some courtesy to have at least asked me to get out, because maybe I wanted to go out tonight? ...But still, I don't have to drink to enjoy myself around others. ...Whatevah.
He presses a button, and sets the phone down on the table. He leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling for several seconds, his hand still on the phone.
Dorito: Dammit!
He twists his body, hoisting the phone up and throwing it into the living room, where it lands on the couch against the wall, where it skips into the far-arm of the chair and bounces off to come to lay in the middle of the couch. He runs his hand through his hair, coming to hold it at the end of it as he just stares blankly at the ground, thinking to himself.
Dorito In Thought: How could they just forget about me like that? Freaking near kill me, and then just leave me laying as they laugh on their way out. And don't even invite me out. They even invited Chris over for this so of course they had plenty of time to talk to me or just one of them just mention something, anything. It's not that hard. And so what if it's going to some club or bar or whatever, not like I have to drink anything. And really, whose life is so miserable that they need antidepressants? Whose life is more miserable than mine? Everything on the news pisses me off, the government pisses me off, my sister and friends piss me off, April pisses me off.
Dorito: That's it! I'll call April.
He pulls his hand out of his hair, setting it on the table-top to assist in pushing himself to his feet. He turns, looking over at the phone laying on the couch. He takes two steps and jumps over the adjacent couch to land like on his feet like a cat on the other couch. He throws his arms out, falling forward, extending his legs as he falls flat on the couch over the phone. He puts his right hand under his chest for two seconds, and pulls it back out, phone in hand. He looks at it for a brief moment, before he begins dialing a few numbers. Dorito then sets it against the side of his face, waiting, listening for a response.
Dorito: Hey April. How's it going? ...Good. So how's work? ...Yeah, no kidding. So whatchu up to? ...Why does that not surprise me? ...I dunno, it doesn't. Cause I know you, better than most people. ...Cause you said yourself when I was talking marriage with you, that you didn't want to settle down because you're a party girl or something, when I said I had no intention of really doing the full settling down thing yet and never going out with friends anymore, but you didn't want to listen to that. So anyways, once again, you have another big party with Jasmine and Georgie and friends, and once again you don't think about me. That I'd like to get out one night, spend some time with you, just have some fun, ya know? ...I don't care if there's drinking, I really don't. ...I know, I know, I flipped out the first time you told me you drink. It bothered me a lot back then, but that was a long time ago, and I'm sorry, I really am. But I never had a thought in my head that you drank, cause I always heard different, that you did until we started going out. ...So, whatever. You got another party going, and like always, never wanted me to be apart of it, so what's new? ...Fine, whatever. You and Eric and Jasmine and Georgie and everyone else go do whatever the bloody hell it is that you always do. So did you ever see Cursed? ...K, you maybe want to like tuesday night or something? ...Cool. Guess I'll see you later. ...Bye.
He clicks the talk button, ending the phone conversation. He lays his arms out, dropping the phone, which falls to the ground and lands on the carpet, making almost nothing of a sound as Dorito just lays there, staring ahead into blank space for several seconds. Seconds turn to moments, moments turning to minutes. He then screams loudly, violently, as he begins kicking his feet and pounding the couch with clenched fists.
Dorito: AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! FFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!
He comes to a calm position almost, breathing in and out rapidly. He begins to slow his breathing. After a few more moments, he inhales deeply, then exhales, with a last little spurt out his nose.
Dorito: I can't stand this. I can't stand to spend another night alone. And I hate being not invited anywhere. No one gives a crap about me. No one. I don't have any friends, any real friends that is, just Alicia and her friends are people I get along with. This is why sometimes I wish it was me who was dead and not my brother. Or that at least he was still around, cause he'd at least include me in stuff, whether I wanted to or not.
He smirks, sniffing some air out his nose, a thought of the past going into his mind for a second.
Dorito: If he was here, I wouldn't be here. I'd be somewhere else, but he's not here. I'm stuck here, at home, another night alone, my supposed friends don't invite me out. My sister doesn't invite me out. Me ex-girlfriend doesn't invite me out. I wonder if I died, would anyone care? Sure maybe it'd matter to a few people for a few seconds, but then they'd set it aside and just kinda forget about it. What have I done to make me be remembered forever? So many people disagree with my beliefs, my knowledge, my integrity, me being straightedge. So this is how it feels like for so many kids throughout school to get excluded from mostly everything, and basically go through their entire lives a complete loser except for those people close to them. And still they turn to drugs and alcohol as a last resort to gain some acceptance by drowning themselves in booze and killing themselves by intoxicating their body with poisons. And for what? Some sorta high? Where they're not in control and become more primal? That's no way to live as a more intellectual being. Put them in a zoo, give them tons and tons of beer and drugs for a month, then take it all away, and let them kill each other for more. Let the drug addicts all die out. Kill 'em all, while I sit here, watching on television, laughing at them. Haha, I'll laugh at them all as they fight and scramble to die over a poison because they think their lives are so horrible. While I sit here, in a nice home, with more luxuries than most people in Africa have, and more than a billion people in China have, and I still don't have enough. And I never will, because of this greed, this lust, this envy I've developed here in the States. What I have is never enough, as it is for everyone else. Even the rich want to be richer, and more powerful. And regardless of how much fear one person can instill in another, or hundreds of millions, like George Bush, control of everything is not enough, because he wants more. He has what millions of people dream of, dream to earn what was simply given to him than he did not earn. He's earned nothing but being the drug addict he is.
He presses, twisting his body and legs about to sit on the couch, staring into space again.
Dorito: I can't stand to spend another night alone. I can't. This sucks. The best kind of high is that of excitement, be it from a great story, witnessing someone you cheer for triumph, or being cheered at yourself. Perhaps that's why its so great to be a celebrity, for all the fanship, or why being a professional wrestler is so revered. Because more people can get a piece of that, with people in a crowd, cheering them, loathing them, and playing the crowd however they wish, for their own entertainment, and for the entertainment of others. That's what it's all about. Fun. I'd rather be in a ring now than here. At least then I could have some fun, and maybe have some more afterwards, getting invited out with other wrestlers, or with fans, whatevah. And then I wouldn't be stuck here, with nothing to do, by myself, again. It'd be nice if I could just burn the world down, or if maybe my old friend Chris Freytag was around the area, but I guess I'm stuck to looking to see what's on TV.
He reaches out, picking up the remote control off the coffee table, and points it at the set, looking over at the screen that's off. He clicks the power button.
