The last thing I want to do is start out yelling and screaming with profanity and an inordinate amount of exclamation points but this particular topic hits way too close to home for me to pretend to be some dispassionate observer. Truth be told, which it rarely is if I’m to be honest, my fists are balled up and it’s only with the greatest restraint that I’m not peppering each sentence with “fuck”s and “shit”s.
What has me so enraged? I thought you’d never ask.
Beautiful girls claiming to be nerds.
“I’m such a nerd” or “I’ve always been a nerd.” Fuck off, you attractive person! You’ve never been a nerd and, unless you pack on 100 pounds or fall face-first into a wood-chipper, you never will be.
Do you understand, you vapid twat?
Being a nerd, by definition, isn’t something you choose to be, however hip it might sound currently. These days it seems like just another label that cool people attach to themselves. Like “clumsy” or “forgetful.” Something that when said by an attractive woman might almost seem endearing. You can almost hear the little giggle in her voice as she says, “I’m so clumsy.”
Fuck you and your perfectly groomed twat!
The only people who can claim to be nerds are nerds. Those who have gone through the nerd fires. Spilled nerd blood on the playgrounds of youth, their nerd knees ripping through their Toughskin jeans and their nerd elbows landing hard in the gravel of public contempt. Oh, that they could casually flip their hair back and say, “I’m so cool” or “I’ve always been cool” and suddenly transform themselves into a cool kid.
A hundred popular faces would laugh and spew derision at them as they would be forced to eat those words like week-old egg salad and crawl back into the library where they would stay until it was time to shuffle forward and get their high school diploma as the clapping would briefly die down and all the parents would wonder to themselves who that graduate was, as they’d never heard the name before. Perhaps a lone voice would bellow “Nerd!” out to the auditorium and nervous laughter would ripple briefly from bow to stern.
The name would not ring many bells.
Certainly not at the Homecoming Dance. Not at any athletic event. And definitely not as the Prom Queen. They would have remembered that.
And the nerd will never forget.
So don’t try on the moniker “nerd” like one of your old crowns, you vacuous bitch. Your tits scream out acceptance and your apple-pie ass demands that your brief stint in Hollywood to try acting will result in your face being plastered up on every billboard and your dazzling smile appearing on television with such staggering regularity that you almost feel like one of the family.
Say what you want and your adoring fans will nod their heads and eat it up like freshly-prepared egg salad. Say anything and it will sound completely plausible to these sheep… but don’t say you’re “a nerd at heart.”
Don’t say the word.
Don’t speak it aloud in order to bask in the implied irony of such a beautiful creature having all the traits of such an iconic character as the nerd.
We’re not a behavior, we’re lepers! You either have it or you don’t… and not in a good way. We’re lycanthropes in a world where the moon is always full. We earn it every day in a thousand embarrassing ways. It’s not a hat we put on when it’s fashionable.
So please, if you have any self awareness left after the pleasure cruise you called high school and college, leave the word “nerd” out of your bio and your interviews.
Or I will find you and drive a fucking compass through your eye socket.
We are nerds. We are Legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us, bitch.
Lance Manion is the author of three short story collections: Merciful Flush, Results May Vary, and his latest, The Ball Washer. He contributes to many online flash fiction sites and blogs daily on his own website lancemanion.com. You can find his Facebook and Twitter info there as well. It is widely known that the only time he would want to hear the words “Here comes Honey Boo Boo” is if he was working at a morgue.