The Misadventures of Plane Jane and Toaster Waffle (1)

 This is my opus and my love letter to my childhood imaginary friend. I know that sounds weird but it truely is.

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“Jane! JAAAANNNNEE!” Toaster screamed while running towards me. He seemed to be waving around a piece of paper which with the combination of running and screaming my name, made him look like an idiot.

“What Toast? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Toast was asthmatic and heavy set. Not ‘Ohmygosh that guy is gross’ heavy, but enough to say that he was. So you can only imagine what a scene he had just caused.

“No,” he gasped reaching for his inhaler.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not overexcite yourself? Who do I look like your mother?”

“I wish, you take more care of me than she does.”

“Don’t say that. Your mom takes care of you. A little too much, but she takes care of you.”

“Yeah whatever.”

Toaster seems to conveniently forget that his mother is the most overprotective mother in the world. It’s true. On his first and unfortunately last date of his middle school career, his mother went on the date with them and called his date a slut and said no one would be good enough for him not even the girl herself. Toaster picked the only girl in middle school that was tamer than me, in fact she was the geekiest, dorkiest girl in school and his mom still called her a slut. I guess Toast’s mom was very impressionable because she traumatized the poor girl who then when we all hit high school ended up 1) the biggest slut in the whole town; 2) my worst enemy; and 3) the girl who told every eligible young lady that if they dated Toast his mother would kill them. True story.

“So why did you decide to kill yourself running over here like an idiot?”

“Oh, yeah! You are NEVER going to believe who’s coming to town?”

“If it’s my husband, you must be mistaken. He’s not in the states right now and he won’t be returning until the summer.”

“Gah, when are you ever going to get over that guy? No ONE likes him anymore, so get that fantasy out of your head.”

“I’m sorry but when he does find out who I am and decides to whisk me away to be the next Mrs. Robert Pattinson, you will all be looking like fools.”

“Again, whatever. No it’s something better and something we’re BOTH obsessed with.”

I knew exactly what Toast was talking about, but I couldn’t believe it.

“No fucking way. Are you serious?!”

“Yes I am! The Painted Glass is going to be in town and guess who’s generous yet hella annoying older brother bothered to play the pity card on his more caring and nicer brother and get him and his best friend in the entire world not only tickets to see this amazing band, but backstage passes as well?”

“Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!”

“Jesus, Jane don’t pass out this time. Seriously this fangirl hyperventilation thing needs to stop at some point.”

“I know Toaster, but it’s the fucking Painted Glass! We haven’t seen them in concert since they were the Futuristic Pop Tart Experience.  How and why did Wart get you the tickets?”

“Well you know that record company that he got an internship at after he graduated college? Well when the FPTE changed their name they also changed labels and that’s the one Wart works at.”

“I knew that name sounded familiar when he got the job.”

“Yeah so anyways the tickets are an early graduation present for me. Plus he figured with the venue in town mom wouldn’t freak as much as she normally does when we go to see them.”

“That’s very true. And it sounds plausible, Wart would never be this nice on his own without it being a good cause.”

“And what’s a better cause than me?”

He gave a cheesy grin.

“A lot, Toast, a lot. Come on before we’re late for class.”