To the Glendale High School Class of 2015:
As you well know, this coming Saturday marks that most cherished of high school traditions, the senior prom, during which you, our soon-to-be-graduated Glendale Badgers, will gather at the fabulous DeVille Hotel for an evening of dancing and wonderment you’ll not soon forget. The prom is a special moment in one’s life, and so, in hopes of presiding over the glitz and glamour that mark this most magical of nights, I hereby submit my candidacy for prom king.
Just as in past years, my credentials for this lofty office speak for themselves. Moreover, unlike the pimply amateurs who have repeatedly besmirched the crown with their ill-fitted rental tuxedos and seething hormonal agony, I alone possess the life experience necessary to do justice to this position. Frankly, at the advanced but still capable age of 34, I feel that I’ve been patient enough for my turn at holding court over the Glendale High student body. This Saturday is my time to shine, and, just as surely as there exists a Creator in the sky and a Demon in the earth, I will not be denied again.
Though my sources inform me that my name has once again been excluded from the “official” ballot, I don’t think I need to remind you all of the option of submitting a write-in vote for someone who won’t be a complete disgrace to the school. In fact, when you consider what passes for my competition this year, there is no other possibility but to do just that. Let’s take a look at the other candidates:
Carl Northrup. The star running back for the Badgers’ football program, yes. But, to put it delicately, Carl Northrup is pure white trash. Everyone knows that his mom is a tramp, and publicly available penal records reveal that Carl Sr. recently picked up an 8-to-10 jolt for dealing crank, which might explain our hillbilly halfback’s lackluster performance at the state championships. While Carl might be a deft hand at taking handoffs and jimmying open car windows, he clearly is not a suitable candidate for prom king and, if he has a shred of decency to go along with that 1.33 GPA, I would expect him to drop out of consideration presently.
Kevin Romero. Every year, the prom king ballot is diluted by the usual “pity vote” candidate, but this year’s selection is particularly unimpressive. In between bouts of tournament-level Starcraft and eating lunch by himself in the library every day, Kevin took second place at the engineering fair and has accepted a partial scholarship to attend San Jose State University in September. Live long and prosper, Kevin, but that’s just not going to be enough to get you that sash.
Matthew Pendleton. Varsity track and field star, dedicated volunteer for the local food bank, and a memorable Harold Hill in the Glendale Players’ fall production of The Music Man. A strong candidate, admittedly, but also one who hasn’t been seen in the last 72 hours since mysteriously failing to return home from school on Monday. Can such an unreliable, unexpectedly resilient individual be counted upon to uphold the proud Badger tradition as your king? I wouldn’t bet on it.
Of course, there remains a contingent of naysayers in our community who question my suitability to rule over a roomful of high schoolers as their lawful sovereign. But to those who have warned me against posting my flyers in the Glendale High hallways between periods, I ask: Is not the prom an event for the people, by the people? Indeed, it is up to the people—you, the fine seniors of Glendale—to make their own choice for prom king and not be obstructed by arbitrary regulations restricting the title to currently enrolled students and urging attendees to alert Officer Callahan and the other jackbooted thugs at the Glendale Sheriff’s Department if I attempt to breach the DeVille Hotel this Saturday.
This one belongs to me. No more games. I’ve come too far and sacrificed too much to be denied the hardware this year; that gilded scepter, and the prestige and immortality that accompany it, will be mine and no one else’s. This Saturday, as the lights dim and the DJ queues up “Don’t Stop Believin’,” you will all see me—magnificent, powerful, glowing as through divine providence—mounting that stage to at last claim what is rightfully mine.
And in the unlikely event that this fails to happen for what would be the seventeenth year running? Well, be sure to say “hello” to Matt Pendleton for me, motherfuckers.
Glendale High School Class Of 1999
Django Gold is a senior writer for The Onion. Though he did not attend his own senior prom, he can still remember driving around that evening and catching a through-the-open-window glimpse of the object of his affections laughing with her friends in a Hummer limousine.
The Humor Section features a piece of original humor writing each week. To submit your work for consideration, send it here.