Post by Mr. Bubbles on Oct 3, 2007 21:48:33 GMT -5
This was for the last contest, but I could never finish it. Here it is, in its original form, efore I weeded out the mistakes (that version was deleted). If you have any ideas for it, feel free to post them.
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I knew from the moment I woke up that today would be bad. I was fully awake from the second my eyes opened an hour before I usually wake up, and, as all night owls know, that is a horrible sign for the rest of the day. You morning people wouldn't understand this (and we will always hate you for that, let me tell you) but it is a fact of life for us. I'll try to explain it for you so that you get the general idea.
Imagine waking up one day, feeling fully rested. Then, an hour latter, you start feeling . . . sluggish. Oh, you aren't really tired, exactly, but you've got all of the usual symptoms of it. The lowered reaction time, the fuzzy mind, etc. And it gets worse. As you feel, in your alert state, your mind and body deteriorate you realize that you only got up a few hours ago. You still have hours left to go before you get to stare at the ceiling above your bed in a futile attempt to fall asleep.
So. Here I was, fully awake, at 5:00 AM, with a morning ritual that takes, at most, ten minutes and the knowledge that the day would only get worse. Great. Wonderful. But was there a way out of at least one of my problems, namely school? I could turn off my alarms and try to sleep for a few hours until my family woke up and realized that I was still there. But all that would really do was annoy my family and force me into walking to school as punishment. Well, school it is then!
I went through my morning ritual in a record four minutes and settled down in a chair to stare at a book and pretend to read in the attempt to fool my brain into believing that I was doing something.
Unfortunately it didn't work, and my mind inquired politely just what the hell I thought I was doing. I responded by looking meaningfully at the book and explaining that I was reading. My brain informed me that that was utter bull and that it wanted the truth. I told it a good place where it could stick that inquiry of its, and it told me that that was, in fact, my ass. I congratulated it on how skillfully it turned my own words against me, and it thanked me kindly and went back to its own business feeling satisfied.
After that I just kind of let my mind wander until it was time to go. I left. Now I was magically at school (because the story of how I got there is too long to fit in this one) and making my best effort not to run in to anyone I knew (figuratively and literally).
Shockingly, I made it to class without running in to more than five poles. It was the wrong class by about three buildings, but was still pretty damn impressive. Now here's where it gets really great. Trust me, you'll never see this one coming.
On my way to my actual first period, a bush jumped me. Stop laughing! I'm dead ****ing serious! The bush jumped up on these little legs and landed on my head, roaring like some sort of green and brown lion as it did. This, as you might imagine, upset me a bit. I did not scream though, whatever those assholes may tell you. The people around me didn't take it near as well, however.
Some decided that that was a good moment to gibber and run in circles. Others went into the fetal position, whimpering and twitching. The more imaginative, however, felt it was a better idea to question the bush as to why it jumped on my head roaring. It responded by telling them that it had always rather liked my head and that it seemed as good a place as any, so why the hell not? The students wondered aloud at how it was that a bush could speak. The bush, sympathetic to their curiosity, explained that it was because it could sound like it was talking if it vibrated its leaves in the correct way. Oh, they responded, that makes sense, and then promptly fainted.
And that left me in an odd predicament alone. Well, if you don't count the bloody bush that was roosting in my hair. The bush chose that moment to address me. I chose that moment to deny that it existed and get to class before the bell rang. So I did.
As I staggered along the empty hallways, the bush remarked on how sad my apparent lack of speech was, and that it fully intended to see that grievous fault rectified. I did not agree that that was a good idea, and told it so thusly:
"What!? No! And get the **** off of my head!" I may or may not have yelped at this point. I choose not to comment on that at this time.
"Ah, so you can talk?" the bush exclaimed, "Grand! And why would I leave your head? It's quite comfortable up here, you know."
"But that's not the point!" I yelled at it, outraged, "The point is that it's my head, not your Goddamn nest!"
"Hm," it pondered on this for a moment. "That is a good point, but I'm afraid that I rather enjoy being up here, and refuse to come down."
I whimpered. In a manly way, I assure you. I sighed and, being lazy and not willing to test the odd bush, left it at that. I walked to my class, allowing my mind to sputter in confusion as much as it wanted.
The people that had been out when the bush first assaulted me and escaped had went into denial, it seems, because their eyes popped just as much as the ones that hadn't witnessed my odd new occupants moving did when I stepped into the room. They did, however, remember pretty quickly and went back to gibbering, twitching, and fainting respectively.
I chose to ignore them; the bush did not. It let out a roar as loud as thunder, then cackled in delight when the poor teacher ran screaming out of the room. That actually made me smill too, as I hate my first period teacher.
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I knew from the moment I woke up that today would be bad. I was fully awake from the second my eyes opened an hour before I usually wake up, and, as all night owls know, that is a horrible sign for the rest of the day. You morning people wouldn't understand this (and we will always hate you for that, let me tell you) but it is a fact of life for us. I'll try to explain it for you so that you get the general idea.
Imagine waking up one day, feeling fully rested. Then, an hour latter, you start feeling . . . sluggish. Oh, you aren't really tired, exactly, but you've got all of the usual symptoms of it. The lowered reaction time, the fuzzy mind, etc. And it gets worse. As you feel, in your alert state, your mind and body deteriorate you realize that you only got up a few hours ago. You still have hours left to go before you get to stare at the ceiling above your bed in a futile attempt to fall asleep.
So. Here I was, fully awake, at 5:00 AM, with a morning ritual that takes, at most, ten minutes and the knowledge that the day would only get worse. Great. Wonderful. But was there a way out of at least one of my problems, namely school? I could turn off my alarms and try to sleep for a few hours until my family woke up and realized that I was still there. But all that would really do was annoy my family and force me into walking to school as punishment. Well, school it is then!
I went through my morning ritual in a record four minutes and settled down in a chair to stare at a book and pretend to read in the attempt to fool my brain into believing that I was doing something.
Unfortunately it didn't work, and my mind inquired politely just what the hell I thought I was doing. I responded by looking meaningfully at the book and explaining that I was reading. My brain informed me that that was utter bull and that it wanted the truth. I told it a good place where it could stick that inquiry of its, and it told me that that was, in fact, my ass. I congratulated it on how skillfully it turned my own words against me, and it thanked me kindly and went back to its own business feeling satisfied.
After that I just kind of let my mind wander until it was time to go. I left. Now I was magically at school (because the story of how I got there is too long to fit in this one) and making my best effort not to run in to anyone I knew (figuratively and literally).
Shockingly, I made it to class without running in to more than five poles. It was the wrong class by about three buildings, but was still pretty damn impressive. Now here's where it gets really great. Trust me, you'll never see this one coming.
On my way to my actual first period, a bush jumped me. Stop laughing! I'm dead ****ing serious! The bush jumped up on these little legs and landed on my head, roaring like some sort of green and brown lion as it did. This, as you might imagine, upset me a bit. I did not scream though, whatever those assholes may tell you. The people around me didn't take it near as well, however.
Some decided that that was a good moment to gibber and run in circles. Others went into the fetal position, whimpering and twitching. The more imaginative, however, felt it was a better idea to question the bush as to why it jumped on my head roaring. It responded by telling them that it had always rather liked my head and that it seemed as good a place as any, so why the hell not? The students wondered aloud at how it was that a bush could speak. The bush, sympathetic to their curiosity, explained that it was because it could sound like it was talking if it vibrated its leaves in the correct way. Oh, they responded, that makes sense, and then promptly fainted.
And that left me in an odd predicament alone. Well, if you don't count the bloody bush that was roosting in my hair. The bush chose that moment to address me. I chose that moment to deny that it existed and get to class before the bell rang. So I did.
As I staggered along the empty hallways, the bush remarked on how sad my apparent lack of speech was, and that it fully intended to see that grievous fault rectified. I did not agree that that was a good idea, and told it so thusly:
"What!? No! And get the **** off of my head!" I may or may not have yelped at this point. I choose not to comment on that at this time.
"Ah, so you can talk?" the bush exclaimed, "Grand! And why would I leave your head? It's quite comfortable up here, you know."
"But that's not the point!" I yelled at it, outraged, "The point is that it's my head, not your Goddamn nest!"
"Hm," it pondered on this for a moment. "That is a good point, but I'm afraid that I rather enjoy being up here, and refuse to come down."
I whimpered. In a manly way, I assure you. I sighed and, being lazy and not willing to test the odd bush, left it at that. I walked to my class, allowing my mind to sputter in confusion as much as it wanted.
The people that had been out when the bush first assaulted me and escaped had went into denial, it seems, because their eyes popped just as much as the ones that hadn't witnessed my odd new occupants moving did when I stepped into the room. They did, however, remember pretty quickly and went back to gibbering, twitching, and fainting respectively.
I chose to ignore them; the bush did not. It let out a roar as loud as thunder, then cackled in delight when the poor teacher ran screaming out of the room. That actually made me smill too, as I hate my first period teacher.