Green Jellö: “Three Little Pigs”

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
EXCERPT FROM “LIFE CAN’T WAIT!” - NEW YA FICTION - DUE Q4 1993 FROM SCHOLASTIC PRESS

“Sasha!” Jordan ran down the hallway, nearly tripping outside of the science lab. “Have you heard the news?” She brushed her crimped brown bangs away from her sparkling hazel eyes, grinning with excitement.

“No-o-o,” Sasha slowly said, putting her textbooks away in her locker. “Let me guess — you met another really cute boy and you think he and I definitely have a lot in common? And you want to introduce me to him?” Sasha poked Jordan in the shoulder, eliciting a laugh. “And he just conveniently happens to have an even dreamier best friend?”

Jordan reared back in mock affront, her off-the-shoulder floral wrap flouncing merrily under her carved wooden earrings. “Sasha! It’s only the biggest social event of the season!” She rummaged through the woven beach tote she craftily used as a backpack, tossing empty tubes of Lip Smackers and crumpled-up hall passes aside as she dug. Finally she came up for air, victoriously clutching a compact disc. “Green Jellö!” she exclaimed. “They’re playing the Youth Center tonight!”

Sasha tried to seem in-the-know, nodding sagely and picking imaginary lint off her jean jacket. Jordan was always the first of all her friends to find out about hip new underground bands, and this seemed to be no exception. She squinted at the album cover. “Cereal Killer?” she recited, already knowing how dorky she sounded.

As if on cue, Jordan slapped her forehead in mock anguish. “SASHAAA!” she moaned, exasperated. “You haven’t heard ‘Three Little Pigs’ yet? God, it’s only all over MuchMusic. You know? The Claymation video with Rambo at the end?” Sasha nodded mechanically, hoping to avoid yet another diatribe. Jordan, possessed now, didn’t even notice. “They sort of sound like a stoned, droopy-haired amalgam of Black Sabbath and George Thorogood? They’re one of those bands whose record has both a theme song and a fake techno song?” She waved her hand in front of Sasha’s face, her friendship bracelets sliding down to her wrist. “Earth to Sasha! Candidate for ‘Most likely to vanish immediately after winning their MTV Music Award?’ The band so dumbly male you wouldn’t make out to them, not even if Jonathan Brandis asked you to? We’ll probably forget about them in six months and only ever remember them when we move back into our parents’ house at 26 and find the jewel case propping up a bookcase?”

“Sure, okay, I’ve seen it,” Sasha lied, bowing her head and jamming her hands in the pockets of her high-waisted Jordaches. “It’s… something else, alright.” Something ridiculous-sounding!, she thought to herself.

Jordan slipped her tote back over her shoulder and leaned in close to Sasha. “Oh, and did I forget to mention? Curtis will be there… alone.”

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