If Bret Easton Ellis had written “The Babysitter’s Club”

Earlier at Kristy’s house I had been entirely on edge as our mein fuhrer tasked out assignments and then barely paid attention when Mary-Anne went to the bathroom to puke up her lunch. Some great friend, Kristi. Some great club we have going here. Still, it was better than being at home, especially now that my dad decided it was time to put my Grandma Mimi in a nursing home and told me that if my grades didn’t improve they would up my Ritalin dosage to 10 mgs and take away my art supplies. Yeah right. All those non-generic prescriptions that my parents think I dutifully take every morning actually get tongued and later used -spittle and all – for an art piece I’m working on. I’m going to title it “The Haloperidol Generation,” even though I don’t really know what Haloperidol is. I read about it in this amazing book I took out from the Stoneybrook public library:American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis”

-Chapter 2, ‘Claudia’s Candy War’

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