My attempt at satire

[Helper]

Timmy clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away from the television screen. He was strapped down to a metal chair. “It’s not right...it’s not right…” He whimpered. He was in small room with white walls and a white ceiling. Behind him was the only door in and out with a small observation window on it. Before him obscene sexual images rolled across a wide screen television, with an occasional short pornographic clip. “Not right…” He murmured. “Happy place...happy place...happy place…” Eventually he fell asleep.

“Timmy!” Timmy awoke at the call of his teacher, Ms. Sanger. From the back of the classroom, he looked up at her wrinkled, frightening face, though he didn’t make eye contact. Like most people, he stared at her voluptuous lips, smothered with too much dark red make up. “No sleeping in class!” She snarled. “Sorry Ms. Salingerrr,” Timmy said groggily. He looked down at the small puddle of spit on his desk. He wiped it up with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked up at the girl next to him. She was staring at him with disgust. “Um, next time get some Kleenex. You’re gross.” She said snottily, and turned her head away from him, flipping her long blonde hair over to the right side of her face. And you’re nothing to marvel at either, Timmy thought.

A hand slapped him on the right shoulder. He turned and looked at Jordan. Timmy cringed at the site of his face. Zits covered the majority of it, and he had a nose ring. Jordan smiled and moved his desk and chair closer to Timmy’s. He leaned in close to Timmy and whispered, “Don’t worry bro, she’s not worth it. She’s terrible in bed.” Timmy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really care how good or bad she was. “I see,” he said rather matter-of-factly. “Besides.” Jordan said, louder now, as he sat back in his chair. “I’m sure you’ve had better. Everyone’s had better than that.” The girl shot him a quick, but evil glance. He smiled and clasped Timmy’s shoulder. “Right bro?” Blood rushed to Timmy’s face as he became extremely nervous. This was the situation he always tried to avoid. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Who have you done, Tim? Anybody I know?” Timmy felt like he might pass out. “Um, no.” Jordan became a little suspicious now. “Have you done anybody?” Timmy shut his eyes tight. The anxiety was becoming too much. “No...” Jordan’s jaw dropped. “You’re still a virgin?!” He practically yelled it. Timmy opened his eyes to see thirty sets of eyes looking back at him, including Ms. Salinger’s. “Of course not!” He said looking from Jordan and to the expectant eyes. “Who stays a virgin past twelve?” With a few nods here and there, the students returned to their work. All but Ms. Salinger seemed suspicious.

The lunch bell rang and all the students stood and slowly filed out of the classroom. Timmy stayed seated as he waited until the last few students left. He grabbed his back pack and finally walked out. The campus was buzzing with activity, as it was every day. Groups of friends walked to and fro, couples made out here and there, and long lines extended from the food carts. He proceeded to his usual spot over by the library. His next class was online, and he had the privilege to work in there, where as the rest of the students who had online classes had to work in the computer lab. He had used the excuse that he felt cramped and couldn’t concentrate in the lab, and that the library would be much better suited for him. It was always empty during the period after lunch.

When he reached his spot he noticed that a poster hung on the wall he sat up against. It hadn’t been there yesterday. It was a rip off of the old Uncle Sam posters that encouraged enlistment during World War Two. The only difference was instead of Uncle Sam pointing at you, it was the Surgeon General of the United States; though there wasn’t much of a difference looks-wise. The message underneath him read: Are YOU Still A Virgin? It made Timmy feel sad. He suddenly felt all alone. He sat down underneath the poster and took out the brown paper bag containing his lunch from his back pack. He didn’t feel hungry anymore, so he put his lunch away and pulled his knees to his chest, rested his head between them and cried.

“Hey.” Timmy wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up. Standing there was Kyle. “Hey,” Timmy said solemnly. For a second Kyle didn’t say anything while giving him and odd look. Then he snapped out of it and said, “Did you hear about Anthony Tucker?” Timmy shook his head. “Well he totally had sex Chelsea Robinson, his best friend’s girlfriend!”
“I don’t think..” Timmy started, but Kyle, seemingly annoyed, cut him off. “Well he did! He’s a back stabber! No one should hang out with him anymore!” Timmy looked around past Kyle. He saw Jake Flak, Anthony’s best friend with a huge congregation of people around him. He looked back up at Kyle. “So now Jake is popular?”
“Yes! Now if you want to look cool, you’ll go hang out with him.”
“I think I’m...” Kyle cut him off again. “Do you want to look like…a loser?” Fear struck Timmy when he said that word. Anyone who was labeled a loser usually ended up killing themselves. Your reputation could never recover from such a label. It goes on your high school record under the Social Compatibility section. It made going to college or getting a job hell. No college or employer wanted a loser in their midst. “No, no I don’t.” Timmy quickly grabbed his back pack and stood up. He and Kyle then walked over to the huge gathering.

[♥ Choir. ♥]

I really like it Edwin. I can't wait to read more of what you write!

[Heartlines.]

Agreed. This is really good writing!