It Gets Worse by Shane Dawson

Author:Shane Dawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria/Keywords Press

The White Bus

About the Artist

PAIGE RHOADS is an aspiring artist from Topeka, Kansas, and is currently attending school at Emporia State University. She has known art was her calling since she was very young. She mainly sticks with paintings, but dabbles in other mediums, too. To see her collection of work, visit paigerhoads.weebly.com.

There’s nothing harder than having to move to a different school and start all over again. You put so much time and energy into making friends, building a routine, learning which teachers are easiest to emotionally break, and then one day you are forced to go to another school and start all over again. It’s what I assume dating on Tinder is like. You talk to a stranger for a few days and then they just stop replying after all that effort you put into the relationship. That’s why I would much rather be alone forever and occasionally bump into strangers in a crowded department store so I can get a sense of human touch. Ya, way healthier.

Anyways, the summer after fourth grade we moved to a different town and into a much smaller house. It was the hottest summer in ten years, and I tried everything in my power to stay cool. In the past, I had just gone over to my neighbor’s house to swim, but now that I didn’t live next door anymore, I had to get creative. One scorching hot day I decided to pull the big trash can from the front of my house to my backyard and fill it with hose water. I got a step ladder and then jumped inside. Not only did I barely fit, but all the dried-up sludge and dead bugs splashed into my mouth. It was pretty much the opposite of refreshing. Even sadder, I stayed in it for two hours.

It was during hour two that my brother zoomed into the backyard on his bike, saw me floating in a city trash can filled with sewage, and busted up laughing.

ME: I was just cleaning it!

JERID: In your swim trunks?

I tried to jump out but caught my leg on the side of the can, and the whole thing tipped over and tidal waved onto the driveway. I tumbled out covered in brown slime and slapped my head pretty hard on the ground. My brother laughed so hard I’m pretty sure he popped a blood vessel in his head. That or he had been smoking a lot of weed, which now that I think about it actually makes sense. I can’t imagine being high and then seeing your fat little brother sitting in a trash can full of water looking like a pig in a Crock-Pot. I bet it was comedy gold. After I got up and spit garbage juice out of my mouth, my brother sat down on the patio and told me to come join him for a talk. Our talks were usually father-son type chats. My dad wasn’t really around much, so Jerid was who I would go to for advice.

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