Yet Another...American Idiot, chapter 1
'Jesus Osama Saint' wrote a guy on his paper in the upper right-hand corner of his finished exam. He knew it was useless. He'd probably got everything wrong, but he'd done everything he could think of in this God-damned town and was bored, so he'd come to school.
People always made fun of his name. 'Jesus' because he had the name of someone in some famous book called 'Bible' loads of people read, which was filled with fantastic and impossible stories only suitable for very small children. It was odd that so many people considered it true. He vaguely recalled once having believed in it, but he had been a young kid back then, and now he considered it kso (kso is a Japanese curse word). Since he hated that book so much, people often called him 'Saint' or 'Son of a God' to annoy him. He had used to sort of like his middle name, 'Osama', because it had been the name of a terrorist who had destroyed some buildings, but now he was bored of it because it was the only good part of his name, and he was sick of it. And he absolutely detested his last name, 'Saint'. It reminded him too much of 'Bible'. Plenty of people with that name were included in it.
"Mr. Saint! What a miracle you're here," said his teacher. Jesus had no clue what her name was, not having been in school more than a few days that year, despite the fact that the school year was about to end. "You'd better get good grades, though, or it'll be God-damned useless that you came here in the first place." Jesus got up in a rage; his pencil fell to the floor.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do, bitch!" he yelled at her, and then he slapped her. It wasn't the first time he'd hit a teacher, but it felt good to hit one again. He didn't care what his mom would think. His father didn't care about anything but sake and drugs (sake means alcohol in Japanese). After the horrible writing class, he went to catch some fresh air outside. He couldn't stand being inside a place more than a couple hours before having to go outside. He went to the 7-11 to buy some cigarettes (cursing them when he remembered they didn't have sake) and smoked one. The smoke swirled gently in the air, and he was full of glee. He threw it on the street, narrowly missing a boy, who squealed and ran off. Jesus frowned and smoked another as he returned reclutantly to class.
People always made fun of his name. 'Jesus' because he had the name of someone in some famous book called 'Bible' loads of people read, which was filled with fantastic and impossible stories only suitable for very small children. It was odd that so many people considered it true. He vaguely recalled once having believed in it, but he had been a young kid back then, and now he considered it kso (kso is a Japanese curse word). Since he hated that book so much, people often called him 'Saint' or 'Son of a God' to annoy him. He had used to sort of like his middle name, 'Osama', because it had been the name of a terrorist who had destroyed some buildings, but now he was bored of it because it was the only good part of his name, and he was sick of it. And he absolutely detested his last name, 'Saint'. It reminded him too much of 'Bible'. Plenty of people with that name were included in it.
"Mr. Saint! What a miracle you're here," said his teacher. Jesus had no clue what her name was, not having been in school more than a few days that year, despite the fact that the school year was about to end. "You'd better get good grades, though, or it'll be God-damned useless that you came here in the first place." Jesus got up in a rage; his pencil fell to the floor.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do, bitch!" he yelled at her, and then he slapped her. It wasn't the first time he'd hit a teacher, but it felt good to hit one again. He didn't care what his mom would think. His father didn't care about anything but sake and drugs (sake means alcohol in Japanese). After the horrible writing class, he went to catch some fresh air outside. He couldn't stand being inside a place more than a couple hours before having to go outside. He went to the 7-11 to buy some cigarettes (cursing them when he remembered they didn't have sake) and smoked one. The smoke swirled gently in the air, and he was full of glee. He threw it on the street, narrowly missing a boy, who squealed and ran off. Jesus frowned and smoked another as he returned reclutantly to class.
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