A Wish Made in Vain
“Avery! Get out of bed! You’re gonna miss the bus!” My mom’s voice rang throughout my room. I get up and let out a loud groan. All I can think about is how terribly I remedied my sleep schedule coming out of the summer break, I’m tired as hell. I rush to get all my school gear in my bag and quickly eat through my breakfast.
“How about you enjoy your food, bud?” my dad said, glaring over his newspaper. “Sorry dad,” I say, muffled by the sound of food in my mouth. I grab the last piece of toast of my plate and make a run for the door. I clumsily put on my shoes and my mom tackle-hugs me before I get out the door.
“I can’t believe it’s your last year of high school already! Oh how the time flies,” mom says, clearly holding back the tears only a mother could cry about her son growing up. “I’ll be fine mom,” I say in response, hoping mostly for her to finally let me go. “Love you honey,” She says, letting me go. “Love you too mom,” I say as I rush out the door.
“Way to keep me waiting, ***********
***** off, Berk,” I say.
Berk is a good friend of mine, him and I always walk to the bus together. We are always insulting each other, you know, like good friends do. I don’t care though, we are always having laughs, and we know we don’t really mean what we say when we’re ******* with each other. We arrive at the bus stop.
“You ******* ready for the first day back? We’re gonna ******* kill it this year I swear.” Berk says. “Yeah, we’re always the cool ones aren’t we bud?” I retort. ******* gonna be different this year bud, we gotta get in to the cool parties and **** man, we gotta score some babes. For ***** sakes we’re both 18 and can’t even score,”
“How ******* peculiar that me and my baby face and you with your thin legs aren’t ***** magnets.” I say, with a laugh and a smirk. ***** off! You’re the one with a swimsuit profile pic on PopPics!” Berk says through a laugh. I look across the street to see an old lady, and as I look to my left, I see the bus coming. “Here it comes, ready?” I say to Berk. ***** yeah boy!” he responds. The bus ******* passes us! Berk and I start chasing the bus, screaming for it to stop. I see the old lady in the front of the bus. The bus wheels start screeching as I get near the front of the bus. Something comes over me, adrenaline maybe, and I pull the old lady out of the way of the bus.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“Just fine, thank you so much, you handsome young man,” she says.
She walks off. “Nice ******* save bud, that was ******* awesome!” Berk shouts.
“Let’s just get on the bus,” I say.
The school day goes on like any other. Associating with friends, starting classes. Why do people put so much hype into going up a grade? **** doesn’t really change that much, the classes just get harder. The people stay the same, not like all of the sudden everything’s different. The day passes, I get off the bus, say goodbye to Berk, and go back into my house. Dinner is just like any other nuclear family dinner, filled with “How was your day”’s and the like, as I scarf down some spaghetti and meatballs. I chill for the rest of the night and then 11:00 hits. The parents are upstairs in bed and it’s time to do what any normal teen does. Spank the ******* monkey.
I log on to my favourite camgirl site, putting in my famous username; dick_tugger69. Just as I start choking the chicken a bright light fills my room. Oh ****, is it my mom?! I start panicking.
“Oh Jesus Christ what the **** dude oh my *****ays a voice.
The voice sounds familiar. As the light dims I see a floating figure in my room. This is…odd.
“Excuse me, what the **** are you?” I ask.
“I am an angel, one that wishes he had the power to unsee what he just saw.” the thing says. “Your good deed today has earned you the respect of the spiritual beings beyond this Earth. For that I…”
“Hold the ******* phone what the hell!” I interrupt. “You can’t just drop the bomb that angels ******* exist in the middle of nowhere just cause I saved an old lady from a bus! What the hell! This is ******* insane! I’m only human you can’t just surprise me with all this information and expect…”
“ENOUGH!” The figure yells. “I’m here to grant you one wish, as you have earned it, you have 1 minute to think.”
Oh **** what do I want. Jesus all this, all at once?This is insane what am I supposed to wish for? All of the sudden, an urge hits me. I see my favourite camgirl on my screen, and I think about how many other dudes have bust a fat nut to this chick. I think about my new profile pic on PopPics. Has anyone ever done the same for me?
“5…4…3…” the angel counts down.
“I want a counter above everyone’s head that displays how many times they’ve been **********d to!” I say.
“Wh-what?” The angel asks, incredibly confused. I can’t back down now. “You heard me! Grant my wish!” I say, staring directly that this weird angel dude. “Alright, it’s your funeral bud,” he says. “Wait what do you mean…”
He disappears. What did he mean? Is there something wrong with wanting to know how many people find me attractive enough to get off to? Wait, he still had to grant the wish! I run to the mirror in my bathroom nearby. There it is, the counter. 2. I can’t help but feel a little proud about that. 2 is good right? I put away the ****, this ego-boost will help me sleep like a ******* baby tonight.
I wake up bright and early the next morning. I go downstairs. My mom and dad are at the table. Mom has a 3,650 above her head, dad has a 2,893. I can’t help but be disturbed at the fact that my parents ********** to each other, the thought can’t leave my head, ew ew ew. I shudder.
“What’s wrong honey? The numbers confusing you too?” Mom asks.
“U-uh, y-yeah mom. What are these anyway?” I respond with. She cannot know about this. “They just appeared this morning when your mother and I woke up. How odd. Check the news Avery, everyone’s confused,” my dad says.
Oh ****, everyone has these numbers, and no one knows what they could mean! I turn on the news. The reporter goes on about a mass confusion all across the world. No one’s packing and destroying buildings, but people are just so scared about what the numbers could mean. I check the time, and it looks like I have to go. I head outside and see Berk, with a fat 3 above his head. More than me? Really?
“How’s it going 2?” Berk says as I walk down my driveway.
“Not much 3, the ***** going on?” I inquire. “No ******* idea bud, all I know is that my number is higher than yours so **** you bud!” Berk laughs as he starts clapping, more for himself rather than for his joke. I can tell Berk feels better about himself with that number above his head. Berk and I head to the bus stop as per routine and board. The numbers are everywhere, some overlapping each other. I see a couple in the triple digits.
Berk and I get off the bus, and I’m greeted to the sight of people standing in a circle. I see their numbers, 10, 4, 6, 8, and so on. Confused, I push through the people to the centre. I see a kid. I don’t know his name, Berk and I just call him “the quiet kid”. He has a 0 above his head. Poor sap. He shouts “STOP!” as he tries to crawl out of the circle. A kid with a 7 hits him. I’m immediately appalled. They must think they’re better than him cause of the numbers.
***** off guys, the numbers aren’t that ******* important!” I shout.
“Oh yeah, you ******* 2?” says 10, moving in on me. “What do they ******* mean, huh, *****?”
“They mean…uh…they..uhhhh,” I manage to get out. They’re not gonna ******* believe me. Imagine trying to tell a bunch of high schoolers that an angel gave me a wish and I asked to know how many people bust a nut to everyone. I should’ve asked to be the only one to see it. I should have chosen my words so carefully. Or maybe I shouldn’t have asked for something so stupid. Jesus christ why the **** did I wish this?
In my awkward silence during my realization, I’m punched. I start feeling more punches, and more kicks. ****, it hurts and all I can do is crawl up in a ball .Barely keeping my eyes open I see the principal break up the fight. The school nurse comes out to get me, and I see a 123,678 above her head. What a bunch of ******* pervs I go to school with. The school nurse? Really?
The nurse sends me home early. Surprisingly, nothing is broken. Guess I’m just getting on the bus and heading home. I limp home, bruised and beaten, sit on the couch, and turn on the TV.
“Breaking news! Strikes and revolts have broken out across the world! Workers are calling for low numbered bosses to be removed from companies! The governments of the United Kingdom, Peru, China, Mongolia and more have fallen to high numbers!”
Holy ****. Live footage of a protest is being displayed. A man with a 2 stands in front of several people with 4 or 5 digits shouting “More than just a number!” The other small numbers join in the chant. The high numbers begin marching, and all of the sudden, charging. I can’t stand to look. They’re being trampled, Jesus Christ! I turn off the TV.
My phone goes off, the president has declared a state of emergency. No one is allowed to leave their homes until the meaning behind the numbers are discovered. I can’t help but check the news, my curiosity is killing me. I wi**** didn’t. All I can see is death. I have no words. All I can do is cry. I ruined this world, for what?
Soon after, my mom walks through the door. I wipe away my tears and put on a happier face.
“Oh my god what happened to you?!” My mom asks, immediately crying. I decide to be honest with her.
“The kids started beating me up because my number was smaller than theirs,” I say.
“Oh my god, oh my god, here, let’s get you some ice,” my mom says, clearly flustered.
She’s pacing all around the house. It’s a little heartwarming to see her so worried about her son, but it’s hard to replace the thoughts of what I’ve done to this world. I make it through dinner and through my dad trying to teach my how to fight. My muscles are sore, but that doesn’t stop dick_tugger69 from logging in. I need some relief anyway.
Just as I’m having a “staff meeting”, my camgirls counter goes up. Someone in the chat starts typing.
“Yo *** I just nut and her number went up?”
Her number goes up again. It keeps going up. The chat starts going crazy.
“Why are the numbers related to my nuts?”
“What the **** dude? Does this mean the numbers are about how much we ********** to people?”
“It has to be! Look at her number! 34,510,952!”
I quickly took a screenshot of the chat. I sent the picture to my local news agency and told them that we may have found out what they mean. Hoping for the best, I called it a night and went to sleep.
The next morning I rushed to the TV to turn on the news, and lo and behold the truth was revealed. I listened to the reporter and was filled with a relief so great it was like lifting an elephant off my shoulders. I go outside, meet up with Berk, and get on the bus. Berk and I sat quietly on the bus, both too awkward to discuss the nature of our numbers, when suddenly the bus comes to a screeching halt.
“What the **** is going on?” I uttered.
“Protests,” The bus driver says.
I ask to be let off, and the bus driver opens the back doors. I see a hug group of people outside Hawthorne Elementary. They’re chanting “Close the windows, put up bars, before their numbers climb to Mars,” What a peculiar chant, why would they need to worry about the numbers…of…children……..oh ****. Pedophiles! ******* pedophiles! I can’t believe I forgot about ******* pedophiles! I’m standing in shock, I can’t believe that people out here are sick enough to ********** to children at an elementary school. Horrified, I continue my walk to school.
Nothing’s changed. People are still obsessed with these ******* numbers. Protests everywhere. Everyone’s still using the numbers for a superiority complex. Why the **** is everyone so vain? The narcissism is boundless. People need to stop being so obsessed with themselves, it’s gonna bring our society down. My phone buzzes again, another national alert. I roll my eyes and check my phone.
I regret everything. I’m immediately filled with a feeling I have never once felt before. The grief, the guilt, all of these negative feelings immediately bring me down to my knees. I have to check the news, I need to know how many people are involved. Maybe I’m dreaming. I try to shout for someone to pinch me but I can’t make any noise. All I can do is let the tears roll down my face. I’m a killer.
It wasn’t a dream,it was a nightmare. People with low numbers were killing themselves by the thousands. I can’t help but feel entirely responsible for their deaths. They’re associating not turning people on online with their self-value, but why? It has nothing to do with being “ugly” or being “hot”, it’s all about being yourself. I keep trying to convince myself this. It was true before the numbers, at least I hope so. I don’t really know what to think of the world anymore. I boiled everyone down to numbers, and as a result that’s all the base each other off of. At least my favourite camgirl might be president soon. Who am I kidding what kind of ******** silver lining is that? Honestly I just have to live with ******* this world over.
The angel was wrong. It’s not my funeral. It’s everyone else’s, and that might be worse. I wish the consequences only affected me, but in the grand scheme of things I’ve ruined upwards of 8 billion lives and or what? Curiosity? Vanity? I don’t even remember what spawned my urge to make that wish anymore, I just wish I never made it.
I guess I have to go to school.