If Things Were Different...

Cigarettes and Alcohol

Life sucks. Well, mine does. And it's all because of one stupid idiot. Alex Browning. People tell me I shouldn't blame my bad luck on him. They actually say I should thank him for saving my life. Well stuff them. And stuff Alex as well. I don't care what anyone says. If he hadn't have had a stupid premonition, I could be dead now. Then I wouldn't have to live this pathetic life.
"Carter?"
It's Terry. She all ways has to come round to make sure I haven't killed myself or something. She's crazy.
"If You've come to check up on me again you can piss off!" I yell with my back to the door. I'm out of money again. My cars been sent to the scrap yard. I haven't got a job. I'm tired. I'm always drunk. I live in a crappy little apartment. I suppose I could try and pick myself up, but it's just too much like hard work. My parents disowned me. Stupid lousy bastards. Okay, okay, I'll admit it may have been slightly wrong to steal their life savings to invest in ping pong balls, but so what? What makes it even worse is the fact that they adopted some scratty Jamaican boy instead. They call him Jacob. I really hate that kid.
"I haven't come to check up on you!" Terry shouts indignantly as she comes into the room. I turn around to face her. She's still as pretty as she always was, but she won't go out with me anymore. I can't think for the life of me why...
I don't really understand how I came to be this way. A life time of obnoxious snobbishness and spoilt brat attitude probably. And now look at me. Still, I have got my Papa Roach albums left. And that's all that matters right? Wrong. I guess I was just so scared that I was gonna die, I decided not to do anything. Just to sit still, not move, then everything would be all right.
I actually spent some time in a mental hospital. It was the best fun I've ever had. It was about that time Terry left me. She said that she didn't love me anymore. That really pissed me off.
"Are you okay Carter? You look kinda upset."
"I'm not!" I find myself snapping back. "I'm ecstatic. I love my life. It's brilliant."
Yeah right. I'm deluding myself. Sometimes I wish my Mum and Dad would forgive me, but then I think of Jacob, the stupid Jamaican kid living in my house, with MY parents. Everybody else seems to have deserted me apart from Terry. She pretends she still likes me but I know deep down she's just scared I'm gonna die because she dumped me. She's really selfish. I don't see Alex or Clear, I don't see Tod, I heard something about him being a billionaire or something, and I don't see Ms. Lewton either. The only person I see is Billy every now and again on MTV. He's a rock star. In a band called 'Flight 180'. He should be ashamed of himself for using the reason for my downfall as a band name. Bloody unfair really isn't it?
Personally, I don't think he can sing at all, but then I forget what his voice is like now cos my TV and radio were repossessed about a month ago. Oh well...
"Carter, do you want me to do your laundry for you?" Terry asks. That's right. Go and make me feel like a baby.
"Sure."
Man I wish we were still going out. Maybe I should try and pick myself up and make a fresh start. Then maybe she'd fall in love with me again. It's worth a shot isn't it? For a start, I should stop wasting my money I get off the social on alcohol. Terry's a cocktail waitress on one of those highway diners. If I could afford it I'd go there sometime. But I can't. That's it. I'm sick of people feeling sorry for me. I get up off the floor. There's no time like the present.
"Oh, actually, I'll do it myself," I hear a voice saying. Is this me speaking? Terry looks equally as shocked.
"You what?"
"Tell you what," I continue. I'll go and get some decent clothes on and we'll go out to lunch or something."
"But you haven't got any money."
"Hey, I learnt how to pick pocket in the asylum."
"I don't want you stealing when I'm around."
"Fine then. You'll have to pay. Until I get a job."
"But you always said you were never getting a job. You said-."
"I know what I said," I interrupt, moving over to a doorway which If I remember rightly leads to the bathroom. "But I've had enough. Every one else who survived that crash is successful. Alex has a nice house, some kids, he's an FBI agent. Tod, well, I don't think I need to say what Tod does, Billy's in one of the most successful rock bands this century, and here I am. A stupid lazy alcoholic."
Terry looks sorry for me now. I wish she was still my girlfriend. I still love her. I always will. But it's my mess and I'll just have to figure it out for myself.

It's around lunchtime and the new phase of my life has begun. For the first time in months I am wearing clean clothes and walking down the street. In the open. Anything could happen. Buses could knock me down or signs could fly into my back, but I don't care. I'm living dangerously.
"What about this place?" I ask Terry as we pass a small cafe.
"Sure Carter," Terry sighs. I follow her through the door. "You go and sit down while I get us something to eat," she informs me as If I don't know. Well, in truth I don't, but there you go. There's a TV in the cafe. I look up and there's Billy, prancing around thinking he's ace. It's Flight 180's new single, 'Cheat The Plan'. He's sick. He really is. He should get a life.
It's true what they say about rich people though. They do go snotty...And yeah, point taken, perhaps the fact that I continuously beat him up and ran him over with my car had something to do with the anger he felt towards me, but hasn't he ever heard of 'forgive and forget?' I was a teenager. I was crazy. Whacked on JD. I didn't know any better. I was just this bully that liked to see other people get hurt. Is that a crime? Really? It is? Oh. Well don't call the cops please. Alex works with the Federal Bureau of Investigation now. I don't want that life-wrecker interrogating me whatever happens. I just couldn't take it.
If they didn't have Billy as Flight 180's lead singer perhaps I would buy some of their records. But I'm bearing a grudge now. Against anyone more successful than me.
Except her. I look across the cafe, Terry's walking back over to me with a tray containing two plates and some drinks. She's smiling at me now. I don't know what's happening to me but for the first time in years I am feeling something...strange. I think it's called happiness. Yeah, I feel happy. And it's all because of Terry. It's a miracle. I can feel the corners of my mouth turning upwards. It feels weird. And then I do it. For the first time In years, I'm smiling.
CRASH!
The tray falls to the floor. For a second Terry stares at me with her mouth wide open in shock. Then she snaps out of it as a waiter rushes over from the counter.
"I'm so sorry," Terry apologises, dropping to her knees to pick up the pieces of broken plates. "I don't know what came over me."
She looks gobsmacked. Totally. And it's all because of me. But I'm different now. I'm happy. Terry looks at me again, the grin still spread across my face. I want to say something to her but I can't. She can't believe it. For two years I have been a social outcast. A nervous, gibbering, alcoholic wreck. It's too much for her.
"Er..." Terry begins, turning her head away from me. She picks up a few more pieces and walks over to the door. "I gotta go." She runs out then. I can see her going down the street. I leap out of my seat then and follow her. For a few seconds I can't see her in the crowd. But there's no mistaking Terry Chaney. She's sitting on a bench, staring into space. I decide to join her.
"Terry?" I ask. "You okay?" Now it's me counselling her.
"I'm fine Carter."
She's answering quickly. That's a bad sign. She wants me to go. I've known her eleven years. I know everything about her. She's my best friend. Then I remember. I'm the delinquent. The loser. I shouldn't be sitting here asking her if she's all right. I'm the dirtbag. I should be sitting in my apartment surrounded by mountains of dust and dirt, staring straight ahead just thinking. Not her. Not Terry. So I get up. But I don't get far.
"Don't go Carter," she says suddenly. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk."
"You? A jerk? No way!" I reply honestly. And I mean it too. I have known a lot of jerks in the twenty seven years of my life...Tod, Alex, Billy, Weine and Schreck...oh, and Clear too. Basically everyone in my class. George Waggner always pissed me off too, stupid quarterback being a better football player than me. I'm glad he died. Not that I'd wish that on anyone but...oh whatever. I meant it. Anyone related to Tod is a jerk. But not Terry.
"But what about what just happened in the cafe?"
I edged closer to her and tried to be the best friend I could without spoiling it.
"That was my fault for being such an unpredictable bastard."
"No, no it wasn't Carter."
"It was. For three years I've been a moody miserable loser. Then I go and smile for no reason whatsoever-." I stop. It wasn't for no reason. And who cares if I spoiled anything. I needed to say it. "Scratch that," I continue.
"It was for a reason."
She's looking at me now, wondering what I'm going to say. Basically I've just been a cabbage for ages, with no emotions and no thoughts on anything. And now, I've decided to put it right. Naming this story after 'Cigarettes and Alcohol' by Oasis is all very well, but I'm sick of that and I'm changing it here and now. Starting from this minute.
"What is It Carter?" she asks.
"Er...I smiled because I realised just how much I love being with you Terry."
"Carter," Terry begins warningly.
"I love everything about you. I've wasted my life. I'm happy when I'm with you Terry," I continue slowly. "You make me happy. And I-."
"Carter, I told you we're finished," Terry interrupted. I know she's scared I'm going to go crazy on her again. But I can change. If only she'd believe it. She'd believe it if I was Tod. Or Billy. Or Alex. But not when I'm me. And that really sucks.

Writers Comments:
As Darius would say, Can't you feel the love in this room? No, me neither.
Anyway, awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Just had to do that, sorry.
Don't you just totally empathise with Carter's character? Maybe not, but then again who cares? Empathy is just a comment you use on a book review, which this is most definitely not.
Well, that's one of the short stories in the 'If Things Were Different' series. I'm sorry Carter fans (Jenny?) for making him a delinquent drunken lowlife but there you go. I mean, sure I'm a fan too but come on. That's probably what would have happened. If you want to know all about Billy's life in Flight 180 (the band you dorks) then I suggest you read another story in the series,
'Life Is A Carousel- Billy Hitchcocks Autobiography'
Or if you want to see that from Terry's point of view read this:
'Flashbacks'.
Or what about Tod's life as a multi billionaire? Read,
'Life after the sweater.'

As a professional would say...I have made millions with this short anecdote and I own all the characters thankyou very much. There were on auction from New Line Cinema. And one more thing...I own Devon Sawa, Ali Larter, Kerr Smith, Chad Donella, Sean W. Scott, Amanda Detmer and Kristen Cloke and they all live in a little run in my back garden. Don't worry F.S.P.C.C (Federal Society for the prevention of cruelty to celebrities) I feed them twice a day and they all have a lovely bed of straw so there. Oh, and walkies is quite fun too. I chain them all together and they all have choke chains and it's so cool because I meet up with my mates and they have a little celebrity run around on the park...anyway...

That's a lie and I make no money whatsoever. I'm in it purely for the entertainment. Damn. The bit about keeping celebrities in a run in my garden would have been cool though. Any offers? Go on, why not? Devon? Ali? Kerr? For charity? What do you mean 'what charity?'
Idiots. Complete and utter fools. Yeah well,
"I er.. don't really like this kind of movie either, so ha!" (Jennifer will be the only one to laugh at that.)

Well, let me say just one thing. I am very, very disappointed in you all. (I'm talking to the celebrities here) Espeically you Kerr, you trekkie. (No, I'm not lying. That is a 100% true statement) No offence to Trekkies, cos Rosie's one and she's me best mate, but I think that's highly selfish of you not to agree to be chained up with the rest of the cast and forced to live in a small two metre by two metre hutch in my back garden for a charitable cause. I mean sure, you might have had to sign a few autographs, but reallly. You digust me with your high and mighty attitude. You think you're so ace don't you?

Anyway, now that I've had a go at Kerr Smith, (and don't think you've got away with it Devon and Ali. I have my bases covered...heh heh...)
we shall continue with my mindless and pointless comments which I am trying to drag out until the bottom of this page.

Can I just say, I am not some kind of sick idiot. And let's just get one thing clear. The above rubbish is purely a joke. Please believe me when I say that I would never really take pleasure in the locking up of movie stars. Okay? Well...It would get a bit of publicity though wouldn't it?

Also, I would like to say, quite frankly, I don't give a damn whether people think I'm sad or obsessive about Final Destination, not to name names or anything... Because, I know I'm sad and obsessive anyway and just because I've seen Final Destination doesn't make me any sadder or any more obsessive than I already was. It's just brought it to everybody's attention a bit more. And I'm proud to say that I love Final Destination, because I know that anyone who's seen it, would admit it was pretty damn cool, in one way or another.
Everybody has a favourite film. I don't just mean one you've seen more than once that you think is better than a few others. I mean, the film. The absolute (in your opinion) best film of ALL TIME. And I think myself lucky to have found my film so early on in life. You can think I'm crazy if you want, but it's true. There is the film for everyone. The film which they just can't get enough of. I have found mine, and Rosie has found hers (In case you have been living on a different planet for a year, The Matrix) and I'm sure a lot of other people have found theres. Different people express their obsession for the film in different ways, such as, reciting the script at every opportunity, knowing all the cast list, buying everything they can about their chosen film, watching it whenever they want which can lead to upwards of 30 times, and in my case, writing stories about it. And that's what I do. So anyone who wants to criticise me, bring it on. As far as I'm concerned I've found the best film on earth, and that's it.