As You Would Like It? Prologue? What?

Erm, considering the circumstances, this fic probably won't ever see the light of finishing. One of the characters is going to end up in each and every one of my original fics, which just...sucks in a way. I love Jamie though. And if I must introduce him in the last arc of this so-called "series," then fine. Somehow or another, I will find a way to introduce Travis and the others as well.

For now, however, AYWLI is what I'm currently plowing away on, along with Count Cain fanfiction. I'm in one of those moods where I just want to write and write, but I don't know what to write about! o.O; What in the world...

Anyway...

Title: As You Would Like It
Series: Whatever series Jamie seems to exist in...
Type: On-going [Prologue]
Word Count: 807




As You Would Like It:


Prologue





In this life, we often make choices that may or may not affect others. Sometimes these decisions are tiny, menial ones, like choosing between what to cook or buy for dinner. Or what compact disc you should insert into your player. When you consider it, if you cooked or chose something foul for yourself to eat, that’s fine, because you’re the only one consuming it. But if you had a family of six, not only are you displeasing yourself, you’re also upsetting those other mouths that desired something tasty to be swallowed and digested. Same thing applies to the CD. You can withstand whatever music you pop into your player, because hey, you just so happened to have purchased that disc (unless, of course, it was a gift. If that’s so, then it shouldn’t even be anywhere in or near your car unless you plan to run it over.). However, if you have a passenger or more residing within the vehicle with you, and the music suddenly becomes piss-worthy, then of course you have just caused an irritable rupture amongst your peers.

Now, if you’re like me, you wouldn’t give two shits worth a damn with what people thought or muttered in these case scenarios. For one, I can’t even cook, and two, I’m flat ass broke half the time. So if anyone complains about my purchase, they had better have a frying pan in their possession. You can either cook or knock me out, because I won’t stand around and allow anyone to inform me of what I’m already fully aware of. Your best bet is to let me have it with that frying pan, then cook. And as for the CD? My response is for you to close your ears or walk, especially since I’m the one doing the driving.

I know that’s mean and somewhat hypocritical in a way, but that’s just the way that I am.
Aside from the small decisions, there are some that are pretty major. Like what college you plan on attending. Which firm offer you should accept. There are a plethora and then some of choices that the end results will somehow remain attached to us in so many ways. As for the responses to these choices, they will also stay with you, just like a disgusting after taste that you can’t seem to rid yourself of.

I guess I should probably stop right here and introduce myself. I know, I know, how predictable of a narrator to cease his venting just to introduce himself. Well, ladies and gents, I’m not a writer. Never have been, and hopefully I never will be. I’m only typing this story because my former interest informed me that writing will make me seem less insane. Apparently, I just so happen to look insane to him. Go figure. Anyone standing over five foot six looks pretty much alien to him.

Anyway, my name is Daniel Gibson, but my acquaintances and enemies refer to me as ‘Danny’. As you can see, I am a pretty snarky person. But really, I haven’t always been like this. My mother told me that I’m probably bitter, thus explains my nasty attitude towards certain things. That’s what most relationships do to a handful of individuals--make them bitter.

Remember that disgusting after taste? Yeah.

This story, in my opinion, really has no point. To some, like Philly’s infamous deejay, Ricky Soft, or the soon to be graduating and already well known, Isaiah, these people who I call my friends, there is a point to them. Since we all plundered through this entire mess together, but at various times, this so-called ‘tale’ is like a documentary of what all had occurred three years prior. Back when I was a junior in college, back when things seemed right, but oh so wrong. Back when every decision made was crucial to many and all.

Back when we were all in love and couldn’t help ourselves from falling, insanely so, in to a pit of nothingness.

Back when I wasn’t at all dramatic, because damn. Whenever I re-read this hunk of crap, my eyes roll involuntarily.

Seeing that I’ve already bogged you with enough information to make me sprout wings deeming me ‘inexperienced’ (yeah, Jamie said that since this is my first time writing out a prologue, I’d probably give way too much away. Then again, he’s a nut case), I should probably allow this story to unfold where I had no idea that either one of these people existed. Why there you ask? Well, we were all going through a crucial place at that point. Just goes to show you that we’ve been a bit problematic half of our lives.

Besides, aren’t you supposed to start from the beginning with these things anyway?

Yeah. I thought so.



Prince of Tennis is steadily killing me...-.-;