I don't know where this is going. If you like it, or if I can motivate myself to work on it, this may be an okay piece of work. But seeing as how things happen and get in the way, I don't know. But please read and review. Took me a while to come up with the courage to start ANOTHER writing project. _

* * * * * * * *

Junk.

Specifically, a large mass of clothes, papers, plush creatures and other inanimate objects upon a very sunken mattress. In short: junk. But it was well loved junk, and that makes all the more difference when you're trying to decide whether to place a piece of junk, since now singled out being called "stuff", in the Goodwill/charity bag the garbage can or under the bed for safe keeping. This process of grueling work and turmoil that includes the discovery of many unwanted insects and candy wrappers is known to relatively everyone as "cleaning".

But to a busy lazy-ass such as Nelly it was a matter of how much she could grab in one trip and stuff it behind soon-to-bulge closet doors. Everything else went under the bed come the second trip. Many people would call Nelly a pack rat. Oh contraire: she would much rather throw most of that stuff to the dogs. But not having the time and simply not WANTING to sift through the junk she simply put it out of her mind and out of her sight to deal with later, entrusting the duct tape to hold the closet shut. Which it would.

Duct tape is the second most reliable substance ever in cliches, aside from chaos. There is always chaos.

So, in keeping the rules of the cliché world, what can't be seen can't exist! Unless vital to the plot that is. And somehow, Nelly highly doubted that a half-empty box of Ritz crackers and the long-since outgrown nightgowns of yesterday would appeal to whatever megalomaniac and/or demon like monster thingy she would have to deal with in her world of orderly chaos.

Welcome to the world of broken cliches and exaggerated plot twists, commonly called "George".

Whenever some new sort of tacky, corny, over exaggerated ploy of the fictional like became recognized, sure enough it would sneak its way into George. The Mary-Sues and Joe Dons of the "Reality" world populate this dimension and deal with the wacky every day.

Basically, it was one very long very idiotic collection of reincarnated princesses and princes whose multi-toned hair and drama-queen attitudes angered the hundreds of dark and broody lone wolfs that secretly wished to date the happy optimistic perfect kids that idolized the extremely talented constantly angsty teen idols who hated everyone. Tah and dah even.

Sighing, Nelly pulled on her wardrobe for the day. Which was exactly like all the other clothes in her drawers save for her dressy clothes and her "spotlight" clothes. Everyone had a pair of spotlight clothes; somehow the people in George had a natural instinct that told them on which days they would be suddenly recognized. It was really weird, but that made Nelly and everyone else all the more unimpressed by it. Everything was weird in George. Hence, weird became normal.

Back to Nelly. During her time off-screen she had managed to find her backpack (which was in all truths a briefcase type thing but it looked more sophisticated and less American so it was required by the officials) and was scourging through her computer desk amongst all the clutter for her remote.

First off the clutter wasn't special. It was pretty much junk but it was in a sort of fashionable disorderly array and not to mention next to a PC so it was called clutter. Second of all, the remote was very important.

Very important.

Upon the birth of a George citizen, they are given a remote to hold dear for their entire lives. That, and a fresh pack of double-A Energizer batteries. That remote controls the weather around that character, certain personal affects (such as hair color) and anything else that may be escapable through a simple plot device.

Such as walking.

So it was with a small huff of triumph that Nelly clasped her fingers around her black remote and promptly pushed the "High School" button.

Poof. Welcome to High School.

Simply called "High School" it was the center of George's lifestyle as George is only populated by people ages 13-22. That and the occasional baby used to strengthen a plot via teenage pregnancy. But that's another issue. Right now we have turned our back again. Nelly is not going to just stand there while we rant (sadly, time DOES pass) and so we find her with her friends, talking in a circle.

We know they're her friends because:

they are talking to her

they are not cardboard

they are wearing their spotlight clothes.

this is the world of George. Another instinct born with you is that you always know who someone is, even when you've never met him or her. Or at least what they are.

So we now meet the friends. They all seem pretty much the same except for hair color, style, and eyes. These are the top three ways to tell people apart in George. Otherwise, they might not be very easy to remember let alone find. So, being that this is George, names and personal quirks immediately come to mind unbridled.

Karmi is the ditz who identifies herself amongst them as the ditz. She has dark brown hair and blue eyes that shine with optimism. No, optimism does not shine. But saying that a pack of glitter got emptied into her sockets is a painful less adequate description. Second is the violent one with the random voodoo doll. This is Mk, the head-banger with the 24/7 M&M craving. Hence the chocolate stains on the doll. She has curly black hair to her shoulders, loads of freckles and a random metal-logo shirt.

Third is the animal obsessed movie junkie with the turquoise eyes and auburn braid. This is Squirrelly who, quite literally, has squirrel ears and a squirrel tail. This is completely normal, although most people prefer cat ears. With her cartoon-supportive T-shirt and baggy pants Squirrelly's mind is loaded with useless trivia facts about vampire paraphernalia and monster movie matinee flicks. Somehow she has a passing grade.

Fourth is the tragic poet known as Chibi. It was inevitable that one of these friends have a Japanese oriented name, and even more so inevitable that there be a broody swooning angst-ridden art kid. So Chibi is blonde and (major cliché here) sky-blue eyed. But her demeanor is always sad and tragic, sorrowful angst radiating off of her in buckets. So the whole blonde-beauty thing kinda loses its effect.

Lastly is the opinionated psycho tagged as Meg. Literally; on her left ear is an experimental tracking tag with her barcode, name and everything! Meg is the second loud mouth alongside Karmi who has brown hair with natural blonde highlights and green eyes peering behind glasses. Oddly enough she isn't really an intellectual type, but she is talented in the art field. It comes with the glasses.

So that's the gang. Now normally we would try to uphold a conversation amongst these six friends. But once again our rambling has taken its toll and the school bell has rung. Teens file in school according to status: reincarnates go in first, sex crazed flirts and perverts go next closely glowered and threatened at by the lone wolfs.

After those go by the happy cheerful peppy children skip in narrowly avoiding the violent "misunderstood" gang members. And than there's the Thursday Leftovers (yes they are called that) amongst whom Nelly's social calling follows. Every now and than a courteous kid will be seen toting a cardboard background character. This is all routine.

And so, High School begins.