Class of '25: The Re-Quel
Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2024 1:46 am
Somewhere in the middle of Skyline Heights in Las Vegas...The year was 2018. It would be the last year of my high school life, having graduated and would later in a few days, go on a vacation for the first time out of the country to Tokyo, Japan. The whereabouts of my fellow classmates that I knew since elementary school would be unknown, but I would know that they are living their separate lives, during whatever is necessary. From my time in high school from 2014 to 2018, I have seen and felt the anxieties that most teenagers would. After high school, it would take me a while to know that it would be natural to feel the sense of adulthood. I figured this out on my first day in community college.
In 2020, the world that we knew was hit by COVID-19 and I found myself doing online classes. Due to my preference and absorbed nature online, I was still able to succeed. Others, who weren't used to these changes, unfortunately didn't survive. The year of 2020 was one that made everyone miserable. On the last day of my physical classes in March, there was the foreboding sense of dread in the air, from students gossiping about what was happening, to eventually my biology teacher flat out saying that the class had to be cancelled. The rest of the year wasn't so better. There is being homesick, but then there is the sense of cabin fever, wondering what is supposed to happen next, while isolation kicks in and you're home mostly alone.
While things were trying to go back to normal, the scars from 2020 still remained. The anxieties and trauma from things seemingly beyond our control had amplified our emotions to which we find ourselves in a dysfunctional landscape. Long after I graduated from community college back in 2022 and ended up in UCLA, I still saw tension from new conflicts and interests, seemingly perpetual. For V9, I wanted to put myself back in the same shoes I wore back in high school, but with some differences. I wanted to reflect the disillusionment and the need for dissent that I believe many teenagers felt after COVID days that still lingers for adults. In another 4 years, the newest generation of handlers might look upon this and think the same, despite the IRL issues and events going around during the time this was written.
In order to show off the vibe of disillusionment, I want to make a self-insert of myself to give off that sense. Many handlers have written self-inserts in the past, so some will know what to expect, but I want to still do my spin on things, since this self-insert is deliberately made to be a semi-accurate and exaggerated version of myself, leaving fact and fiction to interpretation.
This is Mortimer Schaub.
Now waking up in the "real" world.
- Deblod100/"Mortimer Schaub".
At a dresser next to someone sleeping in a single bed, the phone alarm went off to the tune of the Tony Hawk's Pro Skater theme. It was early in the morning. Way early, just as usual, so Mortimer can drag his ass out of bed for school.
Uhh... I shouldn't have stayed up late.. How the hell am I supposed to enjoy January when I have to get my ass back to school today on Tuesday...
A similar motto he would think to himself hundreds of times.
Mortimer sat up in his bed, currently in his underwear. He noticed how his bedroom felt stuffy. Why wasn't the fan on? He got out of bed. There wasn't time to do his sheets and covers. He had to get to school. He checked the tall obelisk rotating fan tower that was positioned in front of his bed. His mother had the luxury of an air conditioner that starts when her room is at a certain temperature. Mortimer had the luxury of having a fan that he had to bring and plug in, when he saw that his fan went out from being unplugged during last night.
It was no use. He needed to keep his fan off, whenever he was out of the house.
It was when he was going out of his bedroom was when his toe accidently ran into the corner in the hallway.
"AHRGGHH!! CRAP..!"
"Mortimer, you ok?" his mother was awake and going to be off to work soon. "Yeah yeah! Just.. ran my foot.."
Mortimer had the same breakfast everyday. Two slices of whole wheat bread cut up as Texas toast. Buttered on one side.
It was a while after New Year and there were still the Christmas tree with ornaments up that can be turned on to be lit up, but it was currently off. The Christmas tree was going to go down this weekend, but some of the neighbors still had their holiday decorations up.
The TV was on and was displaying the usual local news. President Canon won the elections again and was set for his second inauguration later this month. After his light breakfast, he got his vitamins ready. The powdered Emergen-C kind that he put in a cup, then make it all fizzy with the bathroom sink water to gulp down, before he brushed and flossed his teeth. He only flossed once a day.
He got dressed with a change of fresh underwear, shorts, and a t-shirt. It might have been warm and hot today, but he went to fetch his usual black sweatshirt jacket.
There was a problem, though.
He couldn't find it.
"Mom! Where's my jacket!" Mortimer called out from the closet that usually hung all of the other jackets. "You didn't leave it when you went outside with your friends, did you?" his mother asked him.
"...Shit.." Mortimer dug away and settled for a cheap-looking black leather jacket. He might have left his usual sweatshirt at a friend's house.
Mortimer went into his bedroom to get the rest of the stuff he needed for school.
Let's see. Binder, check. Phone, of course. Chromebook, mhm. Housekeys, yep. Good thing I wasn't in that history class that assigned that essay over winter break. Teacher is an asshole, anyways.
"You do well in school, Mortimer." his mother said, as he was at the door. "And survive for once.." Mortimer said, trying to sarcastic, before he left the apartment. His apartment was on the first floor, so he only needed to take some small stairs down to ground level.
God, it was hot. It was always hot. He lived in the Nevada desert. How did everyone else managed to survive wearing black? Must have been the immunity of being a desert local.
Mortimer Schaub lived in the middle of Skyline Heights. He wouldn't call it the lower-class neighborhood. The place had good internet and there was a place to do the laundry. Mortimer used to live in Meadowbrook, but that was before the divorce happened. Every time he went back to Meadowbrook, all he felt was quiet existential dread over there in the suburbs.
Mortimer walked over to the tarp that was covering up his own bike next to the garage where his mother's car was parked. A large bike lock was hooked on the bike against a pole that could only be unlocked with a key that was among Mortimer's housekeys in a keyring. On the keyring, there were several charms, one was the symbol for the "Adrenaline" perk from Dead by Daylight in fake wood, and another charm was a cartoonish depiction of the Helluva Boss character Blitzo (the o is silent).
That bike lock is working. Need to remind myself that I'm in this dump. I should check in with the rest of the rat pack during lunch to see what's the deal with today.
Mortimer got the bike lock into the basket of his bike. He moved it over to the sidewalk. Getting on, he began to pedal towards the worst place on earth. School.
Howdy, folks!
This is your fellow disc jockey at 202.2 CHILLER FM nestled in the brain of Mortimer Schaub, next to all of his intrusive thoughts! We offer a bunch of songs that got stuck into his head after he listened nonstop to a mixtape he made! We recommend that you listen to the tunes that are available by us as you read!
Now, let's kick off our radio broadcast!
202.2 CHILLER FM:
Synchronicity II - The Police
Let's have a change in perspective, since Mortimer is lending the narrator his own script that he wants spoken.
Ahem...
How the hell did he get here?
No really?
How did he get here? Mortimer Schaub of all people.
And no, don't call him Morty. He had to deal with that stupid ass show with it's Musicial.ly fandom. His middle school 6th grade self was sick with that garbage.
Actually, who the fuck even watches that show anymore?
Ok, let's take a breather, while he pedals his way to school, because nothing remarkable is going to happen on the way there.
What? You thought you were going to get some invisible text or some easter egg while this monologue happens?
Not yet. Maybe some other character.
Let's cut to the chase here.
What makes him stand out, besides the fact that he believes that some of the other kids think he's an asshole who should just stick to his keyboard?
Ok, that's a harsh thing to say, but he tries to avoid that expectation.
Here's a better phrased question?
How does he try?
To him, he just does what he does everyday, knowing that he is in the same routine for the past 1,100 days or so.
Is that the right number? I don't give a shit.
Why can't he get out?
In his view, he has to get through his chaotic high school of Southwest Red Rock, so he can be rewarded and have a vacation to Japan with his family. He doesn't expect to do much. His mother is already planning on taking him to a community college, until they can figure out what he wants to do with his life.
You want to know the part that pisses Mortimer off?
He is 18, but he is still in school. Then, his parents starts hounding him, because he is expected to know what he wants to do with his life, even though he hadn't graduated yet. Not even in college, too! They wanted an answer from him, than the whole "I don't know". Then, they start nagging at him for picking a wrong answer that he knows is wrong, but he doesn't know what else to say.
It's hard to grow up and know what you want, when you still are a kid. You know how it is. The adults are the ones in charge, so you need to do what they say, not as they do. Some philosophy.
Ok, it's cynical philosophy, but when Mortimer sees himself in a town with aspiring drug dealers, pimps, wannabe out-of-touch "I'm going to not do college, since I'm going to be famous with the help of Disney" influencers, and the goths and punks, he considers this to be normal.
Isn't that messed up?
There's probably some random upper-class spoiled rich boy using his new trust fund to do whatever he wants and doesn't understand what it is like to be a kid living like him.
It's no secret for Mortimer to want to be like said random upper-class spoiled rich boy, but he believed that he will do something better with that trust fund and buy his own mansion and personal arcade then lose it all and cry about it on Dr. Phil.
How fucked up is Mortimer's school? What is making it stand out?
When he is enemies to a classmate that he knows and dislike looks like they came from a Bad Brains concert that was next to the "Hail Satan" church, then you might be correct.
You know that one visual novel Class of '09? Not the third game with the abundance of foot fetish references, the first one.
It can be like that to his view.
Just no white nationalist photography teachers. Not that he knows of...
Even though his parents aren't really assholes...
They just don't listen sometimes! SERIOUSLY!
However, a lot of kids have asshole parents, so it isn't surprising when comparisons are being made.
Not only that, but some of the other kids are just assholes, too. AND DUMB!!!
There is also the fact that the school that he goes to is in Las Vegas.
I know what you're thinking. "Mortimer, you're in Las Vegas! I always wanted to live in Las Vegas!" Well, look here, pal! It's not that interesting when you know every tourist trap in the joint. Albeit some expectations...
Sin City...
Mortimer didn't believe it either. This is how he is and his friends are in this life. Going to school in above 80 degree heat. Learning something with a failing education and healthcare system. Hanging out with aspiring hookers and drug dealers across from the table with richer aspiring hookers and drug dealers. Come home and stay up until 11:30 PM, playing Dead by Daylight or Helldivers 2.
Kids, mostly the rich ones, swing by casinos with their fake IDs to lie how they are not underaged, while they are more liable to get cancer or some other pulmonary illnesses from breathing in all of that fucking cigarette smoke that's always around when people are gambling. AND THE TOURISTS STILL BRING THEIR FUCKING KIDS HERE! I'M NOT JOKING!
Let Mortimer remind you, the reader, of something. The last time Las Vegas tried to appeal to the kids and families was back in the early 90's. That era ended officially in the last 90's. You don't go to Las Vegas to have a family vacation. That's California's job.
He can confirm this as a professional California shill. Mortimer would go out to the California desert to visit the grandparents during December. 2 to 3 hours away, there is Disneyland. A few more, there's Universal Hollywood and Knotts Berry Farm.
Now, people will try to find scapegoats on why the fellow youth are now like the next casting call for a HBO Max show that has a lot of dicks and penises. Or better yet, maybe some show on Netflix that glamorizes suicide.
Or better yet, why is the world like the way it is?
People will come up with all sorts of excuses, like they will blame the libs or blame President Canon.
Last year was an election year, so now everyone is wondering what the hell to do now, since Canon just happened to manage to get himself re-elected.
Nevada ended up becoming a red state again. The last time that happened was back in 2004 before Mortimer was born.
How did that happen?
What are the excuses again? For why everything is supposed to be wrong?
Here is what Mortimer believes is why everything in the world is screwed up.
Let's see...
There's:
- Video Games and Saucy Media
- The Failed War on Drugs
- Uncommon Gun Violence
- Politics, because literally everything after 2016 with the political climate in general, has became too fucked up
- Dysgenics
- Twitter (No, no one calls Twitter X. Stop pretending it's the latter).
- Puddle of Mudd
- Bill Cosby
- Steven Seagal
- And there's himself.
Actually, if I have an option, I would've picked somewhere in the middle ground.
Mortimer thinks the worst part about him is that he's painfully average, despite giving himself a wonderful dose of late 00's to early 10's garbage to melt his mind. He doesn't have dead parents. He doesn't have expert manipulation skills, like some mastermind. The only weapons and martial arts he knows are from video games that can't be replicated into real-life skills.
He did do some karate during summer when he was in the 3rd grade, but he was only there for 4 days. He doesn't have some fetishized mental illness or disorder that makes him into a sociopath.
I'm autistic, but that doesn't mean it makes me want to steal a fighter jet. Do I sound like I know how to fly one?
Nothing VERY bad happened to him, except for his pet dogs passing away.
Mortimer knows that people thinks that he is weird. He sees that as a complement.
Before Green Day became sell-outs and pissed off this one random angry Swedish lady he knows, he saw himself as the Jesus of Suburbia of Sin City. He thought of changing the name, though. He thought about doing the name of "Sgt. Pepper", but it wouldn't match him up with the Beatles' vision. He just uses the moniker of "Chiller", since it's a fun-sounding nickname.
Mortimer Schaub doesn't need to be from a small run-down town to know what he believed was shit at his heels. To him, the world is fucked; everyone's in school is getting chewed out; Pheaters happened and became worse than the Riverdale version of Heathers; classism is so rampant in school to which he had to deal with both the snobby rich kids and the delinquents who want a chew toy.
Jesus Christ, I'm starting to sound like I'm full of nihilist cringe. Some people use that complaint and insult to me, too.
He is trying to avoid being called the next (CENSORED NAME, BECAUSE GUY IS A NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE WHO CAN'T WRITE UP THREE BOOKS AND THE AUTHOR DEBLOD100 ALREADY TOOK A MAJOR JAB AT HIM ELSEWHERE).
I don't want to be called Limp Bizkit edgy either!
And don't worry. I'll shut the fuck up and I know that you hate this fourth wall bullshit.
Your call, narrator.
Thank you, Mr. Schaub...
Mortimer would continue onwards and pedal his way to school.
((Mortimer Schaub continued elsewhere...))