Futurama

By Professor Smith

A/N: No, this story is not about the cartoon!

Okay, so, I'm sitting on the curb outside the Stop & Shop, right? And I'm eating this stellar bean burrito. Seriously, this burrito is good. Anyway, I'm sitting on the curb eating this burrito when it hits me.

I, Lyle Wilkinson, have no future.

I'm serious! I mean, it's not like I'm exactly going places. I got all B's and C's on my last report card, I don't like sports, and I'm not especially good at anything. Well, maybe that last part's not true. I do have a particular talent with the ladies. The girls just flock to me, I swear. Why, you ask? Hmm…well, maybe it's because of my blonde hair, or my deep hazel eyes, or maybe just my all-around sexiness. Or maybe it's because of my personality. Ha. No one knows anything about my real personality. Sometimes I forget, myself. But I forget a lot of things…

Anyway, back to my non-existent future. Besides snagging chicks, the only thing I'm any good at is—don't tell anyone—the violin. Seriously, don't tell anyone. My friends would rag on me for the rest of my life. Playing the violin is seriously uncool. And I, Lyle Wilkinson, am the definition of "cool". So, don't tell anyone about the violin thing, okay? I'm not that good, anyway. I doubt I could make, y'know, a CAREER out of it.

So, anyway, I have no future. I'm definitely not going to college, man. I mean, what college would accept me? Average, average, average. Damn.

But I probably shouldn't even be thinking about this stuff. I'm only fifteen, for God's sake. I should just live in the moment, not be hyperventilating about the future. Yep. Besides, I have other things to worry about. Like Izzy Churchill.

I don't understand it. She's been on my mind every day for the past week. Every day! What the hell is up with this? The girl's a complete dorkball. She has, like, the weirdest clothes ever. Yesterday she wore a fucking prairie skirt. A prairie skirt! And it wasn't even short! It was long, and it touched the floor. Now, normally, I like really short skirts on girls, but yesterday…I dunno. Yesterday…I dunno. Yesterday, I liked it. She looked pretty. Kind of. I guess. Maybe.

God, what the fuck is WRONG WITH ME?! Why am I suddenly feeling all this stuff towards her? Last week I could have given a shit about dorky Izzy, and now I'm thinking she's pretty. This is so fucked up. I'm too cool a guy to be thinking a geek like Izzy is pretty, and I definitely shouldn't have her on my mind 24/7. It's like she's imprinted in my brain. I close my eyes, and I see her. I see her laughing at someone's joke. I see her serious, bent over her work, concentrating really hard. I see her calling out to her friends. I see her dancing in the school musical. I see—

I see her coming right toward me.

Oh shit.

She doesn't seem to see me, but I see her, in her long, flowing denim dress, and I completely lose my cool and drop my delicious bean burrito onto the sidewalk.

"FUCK!" I yell, gazing in horror at my destroyed burrito.

Izzy glances over at me, and our eyes meet. It feels…cosmic, or something. It sounds dumb, but it's true. Like we were destined to be. To be what, I don't know. Together? That's what most people would say. I'm not so sure, though. This felt like something different. Stronger. But what could be stronger than simply wanting to be with the person you're staring at?

She averts her gaze and keeps walking, and I feel so stupid, because I know that despite the many things that other girls love about me, Izzy's different and would never think the same of me. And it hurts, man. It hurts a lot.

Izzy goes into the Stop & Shop, and my feet seem to get a mind of their own, and I follow her.

What the fuck! I am thinking.

She heads directly to the candy aisle, and I wonder what she's doing there, because she doesn't really seem like the candy-eating type.

I hide in the next aisle, peering around the corner. I feel like such a…such a…God, what's the word I'm looking for? Oh, yeah, a stalker. I feel like a stalker. I'm kind of distracted by Izzy, so I can't think straight.

Izzy looks at some Snickers and Milky Ways, and I watch her long black hair fall in front of her face. She is so beautiful, and I don't really care what my friends would think if they found out that I just thought that, all that matters is her, Izzy, with her long black hair and her denim dress, totally oblivious to the fact that I'm watching her.

She grabs a Snickers, and as I'm staring at her long, elegant fingers, some stupid kid pushes me and the next thing I know I'm on the floor at her feet and the kid is laughing like a demented circus clown.

"Ha ha, you fell!" laughs the kid.

I look up and I see that Izzy's looking down on me with a raised eyebrow.

"Smooth," she says sarcastically.

"Uuuhh," I reply.

"Oh, and you have such a way with words, too!" She laughs, and starts to turn around.

"Wait!" I call.

She stops.

"I've fallen and I can't get up," I say.

She turns back to face me. "Are you serious?"

I nod.

She extends her hand towards me. I stare at it.

"Well…?" she asks exasperatedly.

"Uh, right." I grab her hand and I feel an instant connection. Her hand's all nice and warm and mine is in a cold sweat. It feels like little electrocutes are coming from her hand into mine.

She pulls me up in one swift motion, and I am standing really, really close to her. If I moved my face forward two inches I would be kissing her.

She steps back. "Well, bye," she says. She hesitates, and then asks, "Why did you drop that bean burrito?"

"Well, uh, I was contemplating my life, and I looked up and saw you, and you kinda scared me, so…I dropped it."

"That's too bad," she says sympathetically. "Those burritos are the best."

"They are," I agree.

An awkward pause.

"Why are you buying Snickers?" I ask.

She looks surprised. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just don't seem like the type who eats candy."

A slow smile spreads across her face. "You're a better judge of character than I thought, Lyle." My name sounds like music from her lips. "No, I don't like candy. This is for my brother."

"Oh." I nod. "That explains it."

A couple second of silence, then she says, "Just out of curiosity, what were you contemplating about, specifically?"

"Uh, nothing, really," I mutter, looking at my feet. "Just that, you know, I don't have much of a future."

"Really? How?"

"Well, I suck at everything. And I'm stupid."

"That's not true!" she exclaims. "There has to be something you're good at."

"Well," I say slowly, "there is one thing. But I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's, um, embarrassing."

"C'mon." She smirks with those gorgeous full lips. "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is," I say.

"Just tell me," Izzy says.

"Okay…okay, um, I play the violin," I whisper.

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of!" she shouts.

"It's not?"

"No!" she says. "I mean, I play the bassoon."

"The bassoon?" I can't help but let out a little chuckle. "What made you want to play the bassoon?"

"Well, I like it," she says, twirling some of her hair. "And you should never be ashamed of your passion."

"Yeah," I say, staring at her. She stares back at me, and we're both just standing there, staring at each other, into each other's eyes, mine hazel and hers a deep blue, when someone shouts—

"IZZY!"

"I think that's my brother," she says. "I better go."

"Yeah," I say quietly.

Izzy turns to leave but I grab her arm. She turns her head towards me and looks confused.

"What?" she asks.

"I…um…do you like Futurama?" I blurt out.

"Yeah, I do!" she exclaims, beaming. "Why?"

"D-do you, um, would you like to come and watch some of the episodes on DVD with me? At my house? Or something?"

She stares at me, and I feel something, like, stir inside of me. I don't know what it is.

"Sure," she says.

I smile and let go of her arm.

She smiles back.

And whatever's coming, I know I'm gonna go headfirst into it.

FIN