Personal Narrative: Diced Pineapple

He never stopped to wonder if anyone was behind him. My bright and completely theoretical idea was that he probably already knew I was following him, and didn’t care to question that fact. He was striking, in the sense that he stood out amongst those in a crowd of average tastes. He took on a sort of "punk-rock" look, with a badass leather jacket and half-calf lace up boots. His face had enough piercings and retro jewelry on it to smelt into a two liter can of diced pineapple, though actually, in retrospect, I don't think they make two liter cans of diced pineapple, nor do they make it out of various semi-precious metals. Nonetheless he was a dude, a badass dude, and a witch. Shocking transition, I know, but worry not, that isn't a typo …show more content…
School was out at three and with the sun still blazing my mom decided to drag me with her to one of her vitamin and good earth organic supply stores. It wasn't exactly the worst place to spend your afternoon, since it had better air conditioning than any house or store alike around for a good block or two, and it smelled pretty damn great. The one guy running the shop was about as preppy and basic as they came, with a salmon pink polo shirt unbuttoned down the chest to expose a lot of curly platinum hairs to match the ever-growing sparse supply on his head. His skin was tan and in all honestly he just looked like a gay uncle to the 70's Malibu Barbie. Which were basically my goals for the hopefully distant …show more content…
Let’s just leave that lying out on the table as a distant afterthought for later reevaluation. However in the situation with me involved, and a witch involved, I think exceptions can be made. And they were, obviously. I tore away from the grips of my mother the second I could to follow the guy as he sauntered down the sidewalks. As a sophomore in high school it’s altogether just awkward to have to ask your mother to let you explore the depths of your own unimpressively-sized town. So I didn’t ask, but rather just snuck off the second she blinked and quickly sent her a text as I made my way after the stranger so she wouldn’t call the county sheriff and totally harsh my vibes. Maybe I was being irrational, but as a teenager growing up in a very bland town of very bland people with a select few actual cool kids at my high school who wanted nothing to do with me, I believed desperation to consider the obvious as something impossible was well worth the effort. The obvious being this dude was likely some loser lost on the waves of MCR, and the impossible being that he was equally likely a cool-ass