|Diary of the Dumpster
Author: Gamine PM
Keeping a journal can be helpful, especially if you have stuff on your mind. Even I don't believe the speed at which this is coming out. Chapter 11 now up.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 11 - Words: 7,505 - Reviews: 89 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 12-12-02 - Published: 10-01-02 - id: 994327
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, none of it. Except maybe the point of view.
A/N: Thanks to Rachel, who came up with the title.
Diary of the Dumpster
I have to say, I hadn't really lived until I saw Jason in spandex.
On reflection, that is probably not the best way to begin this journal, though it does sum up my week pretty well. I promised myself I'd do this accurately, keep records of what happens from here on out. It's pretty clear, to me if not the others, that life has taken a pretty sharp turn. Not just for us, though we five will feel the most overt effects; but for the whole world, if I'm not gravely mistaken.
The week started with nothing out of the norm, or at least nothing unexpected. I got my learner's permit, and Dad let me drive the car around an empty parking lot. And I thought that was to be the highlight of my week. There's irony for you.
Friday after school I'd gone to the Youth Center. I've been going there more often of late, mostly at Kim's request. She feels I spend too much time in my own company, and she's probably right. Afterwards a group of us walked toward home together. We were talking, and joking… well, truth be told when I say 'we' I mostly mean Zack. Kim kept nudging me, trying to get me to participate more, but I was happy just to listen to the others.
Without warning we were surrounded by a group of gray… things. I know now that they are called Putties, appropriately enough, as they seem to be made from exactly that. They attacked us. Jason and Zack fended them off as the rest of us cowered and tried not to be killed. And then… well. Then we were speeding through the air in a multicolored array of light. Which was something of a surprise.
Our destination was equally astonishing, situated in the middle of the desert, on a bluff overlooking a shallow canyon. I saw all this in a blurred blink of an eye before finding myself with the others in a science-fiction fantasy setting, facing the thing from another world. Quite literally. A large white head floating serenely in a huge glass tube introduced itself – himself – to us as Zordon. The small robot bustling around and waving his arms about hollering 'ai-yi-yi' (rather annoyingly) was to be known as Alpha 5.
It's a disconcerting thing to be asked to save the world. And I suppose we were all a bit narrowly focused on our lives. But such a huge burden – we, none of us, understood why we were chosen, nor what Zordon was asking. Not really, not then. Later on, it became clearer.
We refused, and left. A stupid thing to do, as we had no real idea where we were nor how to get home, but we were scared. At least I was. I know plenty of people who accept that life from other worlds is in regular contact with Earth, but until that day I was emphatically not one of them.
Zack claimed to be able to tell what direction we should go by squinting at the sun. I could have figured out a better way to tell, but he started off, and we were forced to follow or lose him. And then the Putties attacked again.
This time I didn't cower. Something about being asked to save the world gives a person confidence, I suppose; I don't know how to explain it otherwise, for we all took a stand against them. Jason in particular leapt and spun in a lethal dance that was intensely beautiful to watch. I had always thought him exceptionally beautiful, but I had never seen him like this. It was distracting, to say the least.
I think it was Zack who discovered that if you kick a Putty hard enough it dissolves in what appears to be a bad Claymation effect. So I kicked. I remember the first one. My foot got stuck for a second, disengaging with a slurping noise. Nauseating. But the thing fell apart obediently, and so I kicked another one. The experience became less gruesome the more I repeated it, sort of like stepping on large cockroaches. I don't mind the sound so much now.
It was exhausting, but we prevailed, and stared at one another. Jason was the first to say it aloud, though I think we all knew what we would do. If the world needed us to fight those things, then fight we would, and if weapons were to be had, so much the better. He led us back to the alien compound on the bluff, and Power Rangers we became.
The most interesting thing about receiving the Power is the information download. Suddenly I knew how to fight, how to use an array of weapons I'd yet to see, how to pilot something called a Zord.
The second most interesting thing about it is the spandex. Certainly not something I'd wear in the usual course of things, but it's comfortable. And in fight formation I am generally behind Jason, a prime real-estate scouting spot. What he does to spandex should probably be illegal. I refuse to think what I might look like in it.
Just for the record and in case someone is actually reading this, I do want to say it's not all just hormones. I've loved Jason for years. Whether he's ever noticed me is open to debate. I sort of doubt it; I don't think I'm his type.
Learner's permit, that major book report Miss Applebee assigned, becoming a superhero, trying to school myself not to stare at Jason's behind when we're being attacked by monsters. All in all, it's been a rather busy week.