Don't you wish a magical Scott Baio poster would sweep into your bedroom on occasion and wipe away your stress and sorrows? (CL)
Like any other young adolescent, Brad felt like the world was against him, and that nobody understood him. The emotional soup of newfound responsibility and pubic aggression left him twisted inside, slowly losing his child within and becoming a man was pressure he could not cope with alone. Teens in this situation usually confide in their closest friends, who are also going through these same feelings. Some take to modern music, with their base lyrics, which offers no resolution to the qualms of their target audience. Young teens sit in the fetal position with their heads held against their chests while waiting for singers like Fred Durst to show them the way to a properly adjusted transition into adulthood. Teens ignore and shun their parents' advice and guidance, settling for nothing more than a music group telling them things they already believe, but in rhyme for about twenty dollars a pop. This is cheaper than a psychiatrist, but just as unnecessary for treating a normal behavioral pattern for anyone who has lived for over seventeen years. Everyone has gone through it, but these teens are so stubborn that they think it only happens to them, and that they get the worst of it. Brad didn't need any of this to manage his emotions, because he had something the rest did not. A magical Scott Baio poster.
Brad would often come home after school and run into his bedroom, rushing past the "Hi Brads" and "How was schools" routinely spoken by his stay-at-home mother. He would enter his room behind the ignorant slam of the door, and then toss his book bag into the corner and flop down on his bed. Staring at the inside of his eyelids, Brad replayed all of his current adolescent problems overtop each other like a series of translucent video screens stacked on top of each other, all playing in fast forward. Deep breaths and talking to himself never did any good; it rarely lessened the pressure, either. Drugs were never an option; Brad was too smart for their help. His poster had never let him down.
Brad would make himself comfortable by slumping into his futon and taking off his shoes and socks. With the physical stress relieved, he would sit in his futon and stare at his poster, directly into the eyes of Scot Baio. The poster was of Scott Baio posing in skin tight, faded jeans, with a red bandana tied around his left thigh. Across his upper body was a mere white undershirt. His hair also had the volume of three heads of normal hair, and his smile was both pure and cocky. The words "Scott Baio" were printed in a purple, spray paint graphics design in the lower left corner of the poster.
After sufficient ogling of the poster, prismatic lights would twirl and alter in intensity behind Scott Baio, and he would come to life on the wall and offer consolation to Brad's problems when he needed it most. "I understand what you are going through, Brad", Scott Baio would say. "You are always in my heart. You can see it in every episode of Diagnosis Murder, and the last season of Charles in Charge". And no matter how much Scott Baio would talk about his television career, Brad always felt better about himself.