Insert Coin Here

A note to the reader:

I started this, and now I'm revamping it.

It's the typical self-insertion (parody), but with a twist: I've never heard of Avatar in this story.

Chapter One: But that's not the point!

My name is Julie, and I'm utterly, completely, all encompassingly fucked.

Isn't that a great way to start a narration? "Hi, my name is Julie, and I'm about to be killed."

Like Alcoholics Anonymous. You stand up from the uncomfortably small and ridgy, squeaky grey-purple vinyl chairs, and, predictable as the sun sets,

"Hi, my name is Julie, and I'm an alcoholic."

But—as you might know—they don't have execution at dawn (or some other likely painful event I'm sure to meet in the near future) at Alcoholics Anonymous.

Hey, maybe they do. I don't expect it, but how would I know? I've never been to AA or whatever clever little anagram they use now. However, the point to this long winded digression is that I happen to be totally, completely, utterly, and, (you guessed it!) all encompassingly fucked.

Up shit creek without a paddle, if you will.

Screwed.

Shafted.

Boned.

And, for lack of any other appropriate synonyms: fucked.

I really like that word right now. It's what I'm chanting under my breath. The guard outside my (uncomfortable, let it be noted) cell seems immune to it, if not slightly perplexed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

I told you, I'm chanting it.

My mother, the (not-so) frail, (not-so) fragile (beastly lecturing) creature that she is would have a conniption fit.

She'd say,

"Julie, stop swearing! It's unbecoming of you and is rude and disrespectful."

To which I'd reply,

"Fuck off."

Yeah, we have that kind of sarcastic, probably abusive, sisterly relationship. My mom's nuts, I'm nuts, together we drive people nuts, and then we laugh about it later.

Unless, of course, I do something that gets on her nerves, like hum ("Stop that superfluous noise! It's driving me nuts!"), or swear ("Julie, stop swearing!..."), or pop open a can of dad's beer when I got home from school (shocked, outraged silence), or, in general, be an obnoxious teenage bitch ("Fuck you too, baby, you're grounded.")

Maybe this is karmic payback.

I have no clue why, though.

Well, okay, so I do, and it involves pissing off my dear, sweet, fried mother off on an almost daily basis, but I swear't'god, she starts it.

Really, she does.

However, none of this has anything to do with my current situation. Except, perhaps, for how angry my mother would be by now from my continuous mumbling of expletives.

But it's not like that burly, intimidating, (and, quite frankly, creepy looking) guard they've posted is going to be offended by it.

Why would he?

He can't understand me.

Nobody can.

And don't think I'm going all Emo on you, not hardly. This isn't the "oh, woe is me, my life sucks" rant I save for pestering my parents.

No, no-o-o-o, no, no, no, no.

My biggest problem of all, I'd really have to say, is that nobody here, and I mean nobody, not even the god-damn ship cats, speak a fucking word of English.

. . .Well, the cats can't speak anyways.

But that's not the point!