If you're wondering how I was able to get into my house—I know that I would—here's the rundown: my parents were gone out late that night. Luckily, our maid is half-deaf, so I was able to sneak in and out of the house easily, even though I only knew that my parents were gone after I already snuck in; Phoebe told me.
The is my parents' apartment on 71st. I was able to trick the elevator guy. I'm pretty goddam clever, or he was just an idiot. Probably a bit of both.
So anyway, my kid sister Phoebe realized that I was kicked out of yet another school and she acted like it was the end of the world. She asked me what I was going to do with my life and I said that I wanted to be the catcher in the rye and all, saving kids from falling off this horrific cliff; then she told me that I misheard a poem by some dead guy and it was actually "If a body meet a body" not "If a body catch a body". Oh well.
Phoebe acted like my life was going to end or something. I mean, maybe it is, metaphorically at least, but I can always run away and all. At least I'm not one of those soldiers who are barely older than me and fighting for our country and dying in goddam Iraq or Afghanistan. Obama promised to stop the war—isn't that one of the reasons he got voted in? Goddam politicians.
See? That's not goddam me. People make things into bigger things than they should be. God.
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