[Stooleyqa]

Once upon a time, there were two students who sat a few. rows away from. each other in the same prep school class. One was named Nick Cave, the other was named Rowland S. Howard, and they both had an obsession with the macabre. Nick played it for popularity, and he was absolutely magnetic. All of the ladies clustered around him, stroking and braiding his magnificent mane of black hair. Him and his adoring gang would often emerge from the boys room smelling like cigarillos and Chivas. He penned vivid poetry full of fantastical, gothic details, and he wore his heart on his sleeve in a live-fast-die-young kind of way that no one could resist.

By contrast, Rowland was a nobody. Nick's darkness was like a fake log in a fire, turning the heat up or down at will. Rowland often sat alone. No one knew where he went during lunch, but when he returned, students sometimes noticed little flecks of blood clinging to his trainers, or a missing eyebrow, or rope burns around his gimpy wrists. The parents in the surrounding neighborhoods whispered to each other about "that Howard boy." He was given to cryptic utterances, such as the time he told a girl that she looked "like she was running out of reasons to delay her tryst with the void."

One day, the students were assigned to write a joke. Nick went home, and penned the most extravagant version of the "Aristocrats" he could think of. He took it back in, and floored the class and the teacher, dancing back and forth along the danger line. The class was held in. awe of Nick's story. Rowland was the last to be called up. He slowing walked up to the front of the room in an angular gate, then told his joke.

"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Pain."
"Pain who?"
"I told you the first time. Pain. Just pain."


#pasta #muzycznememy #nickcave #rowlandshoward #thebirthdayparty