My name is Alexander, but my friends all call me Alex. I have an average build, about 5'11" and 157 pounds, and I come from a fairly well-off family. However, in recent times, my father lost his job and my mother has been having to take over most of the responsibility due to his lack of, I guess, responsibility. Now, instead of searching for a job, he lays on the couch waiting for something to happen to him. It annoys the rest of us too much for anyone else to understand, and leaves me where I am now. You wouldn't believe it, but he broke the couch from laying on it too much. The spring popped out of one of the seats and pricked his lazy ass in the ass, and now I have been assigned to go get a new couch at the local thrift shop. While I should be working on homework for school on Monday, I'm stuck getting a couch, wasting my precious time.
It means I'll have to pass by Barty's house, which is an invitation for a disaster. Bartholomew Evans, or as my friends and I like to call him, Barty, is the snobbiest, most pretentious person that could exist in the world. I heard the only reason he lives in our neighborhood is so that his family can gloat to everyone else how much money they have, which is a lot. His father is a divisional manager for a fortune 500 company and his mom teaches at the local university, which is a big name school. At every opportunity, they boast and brag about how much money they make or how they could have us working for them, but the real issue is Barty. He always has the newest piece of technology, the newest clothes in style, and the best grades, even though there is no possible way that he is earning them himself. He pays his "friends" to look out for him, which means they beat anyone up who publicly rags on him, and he says anything and gets away with it. I could go on, but I don't want to.
"Ok, mom, I'm heading out," I shout as I open the door, "I'll call you if I find anything!"
"Ok, sweetie, have fun!" she yells back. And with that, I head out.
The thrift store is only a left turn on Spicy Pine lane and a right turn on Main away, which means that, in addition to passing by Barty's house, I would pass by Chuck's house, too. Chuck was the school's star quarterback and every girl loved him. It was basically as if he had come out of a stereotypical high school movie; he was a senior who wore a letter jacket, was surrounded by several hot girls, had beyond poor grades, and was about to go to college on a full scholarship for playing football. My friends and I also avoided him like we did Barty.
Speaking of the devil, I'm currently walking by Barty's house. The way I can tell is that he built an extended garage in his house so that it could host four cars instead of the standard two, specifically two expensive sport cars, a jeep, and a bug. Luckily, neither the poser nor his parents were home, so I didn't have to deal with their berating. I took the left on Spicy Pine, passed by Chuck's house, also without incident, took a right on main, and eventually made it to the thrift store. I go in, and head straight to the furniture section; I didn't need to be getting off-track.
After searching for a while, I didn't find a couch of good enough quality to replace the one that my lazy dad broke, so I decided to look around other places to see if I can find anything. As I was scavenging around some knick-knacks, I find a pair of glasses that look really vintage. They were amber horn rimmed glasses that looked like they came straight out of a 1940s movie. I put them on just for fun, and, of course, my vision goes blurry due to the over amplification of far away objects.
"Wow. This is so strange! I can only imagine myself needing these glasses to see," I say as I take them off. I hold on to them because they seem really cool.
I go over to the clothing section because I'm looking for a suit for my uncle's get-together. He's an uptight guy and if I don't wear a suit, then I'll probably be shamed into it. As I'm looking through the long row of suits, I notice that my vision is getting considerably more blurry than it had been until I can barely even see the shape of the suit right in front of my face. I begin to worry if I'm going blind, but at that point, my vision doesn't get anymore blurry. After a while of somewhat panicked and confused worrying, I pulled out those amber colored glasses to see if they would help. As I put them on, my vision got one thousand times better, maybe even better than before my vision went blurry in the first place. I was even more confused at that point. What was I going to tell everyone? That I magically need glasses overnight? It seemed impossible what just happened, but it did, so I'm going to avoid saying anything about it.
After another while of searching I came across a pair of dress shoes that I really liked. They were brown leather shoes with a pointed toe that would work really well with a brown suit, if I were to ever find one that fit me. Anyway, I look at the size and, even though I know they were too big, I saw the tag say 15 and I was shocked. I couldn't believe that people could have feet big enough to fit that!
"Man," I verbalize, "I want those shoes to fit on my feet."
As I begin to search around, I notice a strange noise coming from the floor. I look down and originally can find out where it is coming from until I hear an extremely loud rip come from my shoes. My old tennis shoes had completely torn because my feet were growing! It was then I realized what was happening. Anything I said became true, and it felt amazing. However, just as soon as I had figured it out, some force made me forget that realization, as if I wasn't supposed to figure it out, and I looked down at my 15 size feet in awe. What shoes could I find to even wear? I turned around and looked at all of the pairs of shoes, and the only one in the store that would fit me was the pair of brown leather dress shoes.
At this point, my best friend Mike called.
"Yo, Alex, where you at?" he asked.
"At the thrift shop finding a suit for a get-together my prissy uncle is having," I respond.
"Oh, well I just wanted to talk to you about meeting up tonight, would you be able to?"
"Probably not, I'll be trying to find a job for my dad and other things like that," I say.
"Oh, sorry, dude. That's a bummer. Well I'll talk to ya later!"
"Ok, see you later!" I mention as I hang up. I quickly go back into searching for a suit but I can't find anything. Eventually I say, "I just want to find something that my prissy and flamboyant uncle would like." Just a second later, I come across a black suit which has my size on the hanger. I decide to try it on because I'm thinking I had found a match for me, so I go to the dressing room to try it on, along with the huge brown leather shoes. As I try it on, it doesn't seem to be looking as black as I thought it was before. It seemed more like a very dark violet color, almost indistinguishable from a navy blazer but it was a little more purple. I get the suit on and I sit down to tie my shoes, which apparently perfectly fit my huge feet. As I stand up, I look in the mirror, only to find the suit be a bright, almost blinding, shade of pink. It catches me off guard and I say,