The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald (as retold by high school seniors)
Chapter 1 In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind since. “Let the reader know you don’t judge a book by its cover,” he told me, “just remember if you use big words and elaborate on this idea for two pages they won’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Pay attention to this part: there was a guy named Gatsby (write that down), and he was okay even though he was a crook. I met him when I lived in New York. I’m from the mid-west. I had a house I rented in a place that looked like eggs. There was an egg in the east and an egg in the west- the niggas that lived in the west had money, but the ones in the east had OD money. One night I had dinner with my cousin Daisy (write that down) and her husband Tom. There was someone there named Jordan, and even though I’m going to refer to her as “she” when I talk about her, spend the next hour thinking she’s a guy and I’m a fag. They had a big house, and he played football. So he was big. And Daisy and Jordan were drunk, and that should have been weird because it was during Prohibition but completely ignore that. We had dinner and talked about shit that didn’t matter, then the phone rang, and Tom and one who was his wife got into an argument while the other dude told me that Tom was fucking this other bitch and that was her on the phone. I know, he’s a dick and she’s a ho, right? Tom’s wife (who was probably not the dude named Jordan but I didn’t write it down so I forgot) went outside with me and told me she hoped her daughter was stupid. I thought that was a weird thing to say, but instead of asking what that meant I skipped it. Dinner was over and I went home. I saw a dude outside looking at the water. Someone left their light on across the bay. Because it was green I thought it was for Christmas, even though it was in the middle of the summer. Chapter 2 About half way between my Western Omelet and New York there is a valley of ash. There’s a guy who lives there with big eyes named Doctor TJ Eckleburg. One day Tom and I went past his house on the train to meet Tom’s skank. She worked at a gas station with a guy named Wilson. Wilson wanted to buy Tom’s car, but it was broken. Then Tom’s ho, Myrtle, came downstairs and went on a train with us. We went into New York and the police gave us a
dog. Oh, wait, Myrtle is married to Wilson? Oh, shit! That dirty bitch! How she gonna be doing that while she’s married and he’s married? Disgusting. Anyway. Then we went to a party at some apartment. All these people were talking about shit, but I wasn’t worth paying attention to. I was thinking about LeBron. Then all of a sudden Tom smacks the fuck out of Myrtle. That was fucking great! I read that part three times and kept laughing. I don’t know why he hit her, but bitch had it coming. Nothing else at the party mattered after that.
Chapter III There was music from my neighbor’s house through the summer nights. As soon as I read that I thought, “Thank God, something is finally going to happen. This shit was getting boring.” A lot of people came and went. I was on my phone googling “blue waffle” and missed most of it. By the way, don’t google “blue waffle.” Seriously. You’re going to do it anyway, right? Let me know when you’re done. Finished? See. Told you not to. I was on my way to get roaring drunk from sheer embarrassment when Jordan Baker came out of the house.