The Perfect Place to Live

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How it is on these impatient streets with speeding cars and their important drivers. For nothing is as important as one’s own family, despite the one in front of the roar of one’s minivan. There’s soccer to attend to, and that all encompassing belief that every little bit of moment passed in traffic somehow takes away from this child’s life.

Suburbia. The annals of status quo demand that to make a child better one must lie to themselves and continue this deception as a matter of legacy. It’s because everyone else here can’t possibly be as smart as the one that discovers this little fact. Still, that neighbor’s Honda is outmoded and a waste of money, and that one must have gotten a promotion because that Benz is new.

The lawns are cut with expert timing, much like a morning shave, and the little lady just took the kids to the market. The lines are long on Sunday. Ample time to gloss for porn on the Web. Still, the guy that hits the gym regularly is right in front of the little lady, and he lacks those love handles she lied about being charming.

The jerk down the street just cranked his Harley soft tail and had change for matching leathers. He got inspired by watching Walking Dead. Probably shoot himself in the foot with a crossbow bolt if one is lucky.

There’s the bored housewife next door that realized that her trophy looks are fading with each wrinkle and extra cheese on her thighs. Her son could care less, because his first B meant he failed his family’s perfect life. Still, he looks the other way when she slips him $50 so he can be elsewhere for the remainder of the afternoon.

The guy next door just pulled up with his family. They just came from the store. The girls are unloading the groceries and smiling. The boy is already going back for the second set of bags and will probably wash the van before he mows the lawn. The guy next to that one looks back at the fat slob that’s his boy and yells at him to get off the Xbox and be useful. He ignores the teen’s bloodshot eyes and slurred response, but waits to see a half-assed job.

That man will go outside for a quick smoke, and see a classic Mustang that he used to drive around before he gave it up for a mortgage and ungrateful children. The driver pulls up cocky, pockets teeming with his daddy’s credit cards to pick up a girl the same age.

The girl pauses to text her friend who warns her that he’s a bad boy. He grins because, much like his father before him, he has all the elements that make him such a creature: the clothes he bought at the mall to butch up, the hair that he paid $60 to get movie star perfect, and the swagger in his step because he dropped for the loud speakers that present him as the Alpha Male wherever he goes. He drives away as another woman sighs and remembers when her husband had that kind of confidence.

Back in the day, that man used the best man on campus. Bright future was what all the professors said, and he was rock solid as well. Now he sits balding and nervous on his couch with his tenth beer of the day. It’s easier to be a lush than to have a shrink determine that one is depressed because the problems at work are overwhelming and the bills just don’t match the pay. Still, his wife just ordered another designer label purse instead of using her gym membership that she insisted on last year. He nods off into dreams of how things used to be for him.

Then there’s the little boy that wishes that he could just go outside. His heart is clutched with terror with asking for just that because he’s been grounded for not understanding his math class. He doesn’t want to the work. It’s so much easier to just crunk out online with the latest FPS and get a rise out of the forty year old men that have time get beat by his pattern wins. So much easier than reading, making something with his hands, or even mindless chores. If only he could get his console back or at least go to his friend’s house.

The streets are clean here. No cigarette butts, not even leaves from the immaculate hedges and freshly trimmed lawns. The houses are in fine repair, and everyone is friendly with smiles and an ideal life. It’s a wonder why the couple down the street is planning their vacation in St. Thomas this year. Everything is perfect here. Like how the real estate agent told them it was.

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