The Speck. My hometown. Blink and you'll miss it. It consists of a post office, a library, a gas station, a junk store, three churches, and a bunch of run-down smallish Victorian-style houses. Back in the olden days, when the railroad still came through, it was a busy place. Lots of artists, I've heard. People still sometimes find drawings and things in their walls once in a while. The river, which is haunted by an Indian chief according to legend, runs through, twisting Southward. The Speck is squished down in a valley, tree-covered hills swooping up on either side. It's beautiful in the Fall. In Summer...
Well, let's just say, it's quiet.
But where I live, a few miles outside the Speck, it's like time is frozen. Right now, nothing is going on. NOTHING! I'd give anything for something to happen, anything just to lighten the load of this never-ending BOREDOM! PLEASE GOD, MAKE IT STOP!
And yeah, I know I'll be missing the stagnant relaxation of August once September rolls around and the drama starts in again, but until then, I'm awaiting the start of school with open arms, if only for the fact that I'll get to see my friends again. They all live in the Speck, so I can't just walk down the street and pop in whenever I want. The only times we see each other is at school and on AIM. I've seen Venom once or twice, but Jaybrams doesn't even have an AIM. We haven't talked in months.
And yes, we have telephones. I just have an unnatural mistrust of them. It's... hard to explain...
So, to all of you awaiting the end of Summer with dread and nostalgia, I say, Pfft! It can't come soon enough!
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Greatest Poem In The World: Part 2
Previously on... The Zombie In My Locker And How It Got There
To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?
Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray
In the end, the decision
Was sort of made for me
A man driving a bus,
Aged four thousand and forty
It arrived with a squeal of breaks
And an ominous death-rattle
From inside, a small voice shrilled
"I'm gonna tattle!"
It's color was yellow
It's vibe was annoying
Inside me I felt
A sense of dread growing
The door swooshed open
With a hiss and a squeak
The wrinkly old driver
Hadn't moved in a week
On the inside I screamed
On the out, climbed aboard
It's the fastest way to school
I rationalized and deplored
Once inside the aging deathtrap
I wandered down the aisle
Passing screaming children
And a hobo with a pedosmile
One hour later
Chance of survival was bleak
When we pulled in the school
Our sanity mushy and weak
I hopped to the pavement
And sprinted to the door
But I ran into five people
And they fell to the floor
Standing in the hallway
Where we always stand
Were Venom and Jaybrams
And That Guy from That Band
"Guys!" I ran up and yelled
"We've got a situation!"
Venom gasped "Will it save us
From our torturous education?"
Jaybrams screamed, suddenly
'Cause she saw the zombie
So we ran down the hallway
Venom, Jaybrams, and Me
We chased it through the H-S
Screaming "CEASE AND DESIST!"
Ran past Eric and Ryan
And Joey and Chris
It ran up the stairs
And we cornered the focker
It made a mad dash for freedom
Straight to 210, my locker
And it's still in there
It's out of your hair
So fear not, and go STEALTH-KILL! Devin
But I've got a problem
And my problem is...
I'm late for English 7
Okay, I admit it. This is a terrible poem. It's rhyming is half-assed, at best. Rhythm? Nonexistent. But I do -- sometimes -- write serious poetry. Or some crap I make up that sounds serious. And, like, deep. That's why I've started a poetry blog (Accessible from my profile)! I haven't posted anything yet. But I'm going to. Like, right now.
Later much!
Signing off,
Sweet But Insane
To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?
Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray
In the end, the decision
Was sort of made for me
A man driving a bus,
Aged four thousand and forty
It arrived with a squeal of breaks
And an ominous death-rattle
From inside, a small voice shrilled
"I'm gonna tattle!"
It's color was yellow
It's vibe was annoying
Inside me I felt
A sense of dread growing
The door swooshed open
With a hiss and a squeak
The wrinkly old driver
Hadn't moved in a week
On the inside I screamed
On the out, climbed aboard
It's the fastest way to school
I rationalized and deplored
Once inside the aging deathtrap
I wandered down the aisle
Passing screaming children
And a hobo with a pedosmile
One hour later
Chance of survival was bleak
When we pulled in the school
Our sanity mushy and weak
I hopped to the pavement
And sprinted to the door
But I ran into five people
And they fell to the floor
Standing in the hallway
Where we always stand
Were Venom and Jaybrams
And That Guy from That Band
"Guys!" I ran up and yelled
"We've got a situation!"
Venom gasped "Will it save us
From our torturous education?"
Jaybrams screamed, suddenly
'Cause she saw the zombie
So we ran down the hallway
Venom, Jaybrams, and Me
We chased it through the H-S
Screaming "CEASE AND DESIST!"
Ran past Eric and Ryan
And Joey and Chris
It ran up the stairs
And we cornered the focker
It made a mad dash for freedom
Straight to 210, my locker
And it's still in there
It's out of your hair
So fear not, and go STEALTH-KILL! Devin
But I've got a problem
And my problem is...
I'm late for English 7
Okay, I admit it. This is a terrible poem. It's rhyming is half-assed, at best. Rhythm? Nonexistent. But I do -- sometimes -- write serious poetry. Or some crap I make up that sounds serious. And, like, deep. That's why I've started a poetry blog (Accessible from my profile)! I haven't posted anything yet. But I'm going to. Like, right now.
Later much!
Signing off,
Sweet But Insane
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Greatest Poem In The World -- Part One
"The Zombie in my Locker and How it Got There"
I knew I shouldn't have watched Zombieland
Instead of seeing Little Fockers
There was a close-up of the undead
And then it jumped off the screen
Like Lady Gaga, messed up in the head
And acting really mean
It snarled and growled
And ran 'round my house
It ate half a sports car
And my imaginary spouse
And it was going for me
When I shot it times three
But two bullets missed
And hit the indestructible cat, who hissed
The zombie ran away
Hid under my porch for a while
It built and rode a subway
But it hopped the turnstile
Meanwhile, aboveground,
I was getting ready
I got Iggy, a rocket launcher
And a lobster named Freddie
We stormed in the subway
To take the next train going out
The vendor gave me a key chain
But he charged me five dollars, the lout
We crowded on the subway
It smelled like peanut butter
That, combined with claustrophobia
Turned me into a nutter
A nutter, by the way
Is British for lunatic
Like Ozzy, or Venom,
Or that Jersey Shore chick
"Hot damn!" I shouted
"I think I'm going crazy.
That guy in the corner
Doesn't even look shady!"
We escaped the subway
Iggy, Freddie, and Me
For some reason we were by the ocean
When a voice rawred with glee
"Steve!" squealed me
"Third person much?" muttered Iggy
Freddie added "OMG!"
"GRAAWRR!" warbled Steve
I climbed on a boat
And threw a rope to the shark
And I fired the rocket launcher
It lit up the dark
I commanded "Fetch!
There's a zombie to catch!"
Steve pirouetted across the sea
In hot pursuit of the hungry zombie
By the time that we docked
We were back where we started
My house, the hide-out,
Of the Nearly Departed
The zombie in question
Was crossing the river
Toward the school, where he'd find
Inevitably, his dinner
To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?
Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray
Part One
By Me
There's a zombie with the munchies
And he's in my lockerI knew I shouldn't have watched Zombieland
Instead of seeing Little Fockers
There was a close-up of the undead
And then it jumped off the screen
Like Lady Gaga, messed up in the head
And acting really mean
It snarled and growled
And ran 'round my house
It ate half a sports car
And my imaginary spouse
And it was going for me
When I shot it times three
But two bullets missed
And hit the indestructible cat, who hissed
The zombie ran away
Hid under my porch for a while
It built and rode a subway
But it hopped the turnstile
Meanwhile, aboveground,
I was getting ready
I got Iggy, a rocket launcher
And a lobster named Freddie
We stormed in the subway
To take the next train going out
The vendor gave me a key chain
But he charged me five dollars, the lout
We crowded on the subway
It smelled like peanut butter
That, combined with claustrophobia
Turned me into a nutter
A nutter, by the way
Is British for lunatic
Like Ozzy, or Venom,
Or that Jersey Shore chick
"Hot damn!" I shouted
"I think I'm going crazy.
That guy in the corner
Doesn't even look shady!"
We escaped the subway
Iggy, Freddie, and Me
For some reason we were by the ocean
When a voice rawred with glee
"Steve!" squealed me
"Third person much?" muttered Iggy
Freddie added "OMG!"
"GRAAWRR!" warbled Steve
I climbed on a boat
And threw a rope to the shark
And I fired the rocket launcher
It lit up the dark
I commanded "Fetch!
There's a zombie to catch!"
Steve pirouetted across the sea
In hot pursuit of the hungry zombie
By the time that we docked
We were back where we started
My house, the hide-out,
Of the Nearly Departed
The zombie in question
Was crossing the river
Toward the school, where he'd find
Inevitably, his dinner
To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?
Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray
Friday, March 4, 2011
RANT: One of Those Days...
Hi there Sunshine!
Today was just one of Those Days.
You know, one of Those Days that everyone always talks about but never really explains? Yeah. I get it now.
Here are the qualifications to know that you are having One of Those Days:
It usually starts with ominous foreshadowing the night before. As in, you're laying in bed trying to go to sleep when you suddenly remember you were supposed to stay after school in the Homework Room. But since you didn't, you now have an automatic write-up. Which only gives the insane Science teacher another reason to hate you. Yes, ol' Demented DeGlee will have a field day with this, even though you shouldn't have to stay after anyway since you're not even failing.
The next morning, do not be fooled by the fact that you are having a good hair day. This is only fate satisfying their sick sense of humor by lulling you into a false sense of security. After all, what can go wrong on a good hair day?
Hah. Cue humorless chuckle.
By the time you're on the bus, you're already about to explode in someone's face. Namely, your best friend Kayla's horrible boyfriend, Arnold. I swear, every other word out of that dickwad's mouth is not only completely irritating, stereotypical of a classic "Gimme your lunch money" bully, completely disgusting, profane, and sexist, but also So. Fucking. Loud.
And trust me, I'm not usually the type to swear. But Arnold, he brings out the "SHUT THE FUCK UP" in me.
Anyway, classes start out bad and get worse. Science is first up to bat, and if that's not bad enough, Demented DeGlee appears to be as pissed off as me. Like, when I don't have a paper (I skipped bringing my binder ONE DAY, and what do I get?) she starts screaming "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BRING A PAPER AND A PENCIL EVERYDAY" She might as well have topped it off with a good "OR I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING ORGANS OUT". Then she stomps over to my desk, at which I am scrunched up in with my head between my arms, crying because I that's what I do when I get mad (Don't ask me why), and SLAMS down a paper in front of me, then starts obsessively clicking through the slides so there is absolutely no way I can copy the notes down.
After Science is Art. Which would be great, if our teacher knew what the hell she was talking about. I mean, I can draw better than her. 'Nuff said.
Between classes, I was walking out of the bathroom, when who should be on the other side of the door than... HANNAH THE BITCH FROM HELL! I will not even go into what she did to Kayla last year. But she takes one look at me, rolls her eyes and says "Um, ew!" in a whisper that could be heard in New Zealand. I, being rather mature, rolled my eyes in my perfected Bratty Teenager technique and walked away.
A few classes later, it was lunchtime. Usually at lunch, I go with my friends to the uber-exclusive and oh-so-chichi... NERDY BOOK CLUB IN THE ENGLISH ROOM WITH OUR HIPPIE TEACHER!! YAY!!! It's great.
Except today, Mr. English Teacher had somewhere to be, so we had to go to the cafeteria with the rest of the populace. And may I just say, Aiyaiyai! Elbow room is a myth!
Afterward in Study Lab, Kayla spent the time mostly complaining along with me and inadvertantly cheering me up. Mostly because -- and she'll kill me for this -- Her face is so funny! I was having a mad laughing fit at her facial expressions while she just stared at me going "What? What?"
Then Social Studies rolled around and Kayla and I had to do research for our report on Benedict Arnold. We ended up discussing my new nickname for Derrick -- Schkiggledeenyo (I'm always coming up with nicknames for people) -- And wondering how it was even possible that Benedict died from a goldfish disease. Seriously, does anyone know?
Math was a blur, and so was the last period of the day, Magazine. I'm pretty sure I got yelled at, and somewhere along the way I think I staged a silent protest in front of my locker and told my friend Nichole that I was never going to class, EVER. She made me go...
What's the worst day you've ever had? Go ahead, make me feel like a whiner.
Signing off,
Sweet but Insane
Today was just one of Those Days.
You know, one of Those Days that everyone always talks about but never really explains? Yeah. I get it now.
It usually starts with ominous foreshadowing the night before. As in, you're laying in bed trying to go to sleep when you suddenly remember you were supposed to stay after school in the Homework Room. But since you didn't, you now have an automatic write-up. Which only gives the insane Science teacher another reason to hate you. Yes, ol' Demented DeGlee will have a field day with this, even though you shouldn't have to stay after anyway since you're not even failing.
The next morning, do not be fooled by the fact that you are having a good hair day. This is only fate satisfying their sick sense of humor by lulling you into a false sense of security. After all, what can go wrong on a good hair day?
Hah. Cue humorless chuckle.
By the time you're on the bus, you're already about to explode in someone's face. Namely, your best friend Kayla's horrible boyfriend, Arnold. I swear, every other word out of that dickwad's mouth is not only completely irritating, stereotypical of a classic "Gimme your lunch money" bully, completely disgusting, profane, and sexist, but also So. Fucking. Loud.
And trust me, I'm not usually the type to swear. But Arnold, he brings out the "SHUT THE FUCK UP" in me.
Anyway, classes start out bad and get worse. Science is first up to bat, and if that's not bad enough, Demented DeGlee appears to be as pissed off as me. Like, when I don't have a paper (I skipped bringing my binder ONE DAY, and what do I get?) she starts screaming "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BRING A PAPER AND A PENCIL EVERYDAY" She might as well have topped it off with a good "OR I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING ORGANS OUT". Then she stomps over to my desk, at which I am scrunched up in with my head between my arms, crying because I that's what I do when I get mad (Don't ask me why), and SLAMS down a paper in front of me, then starts obsessively clicking through the slides so there is absolutely no way I can copy the notes down.
After Science is Art. Which would be great, if our teacher knew what the hell she was talking about. I mean, I can draw better than her. 'Nuff said.
Between classes, I was walking out of the bathroom, when who should be on the other side of the door than... HANNAH THE BITCH FROM HELL! I will not even go into what she did to Kayla last year. But she takes one look at me, rolls her eyes and says "Um, ew!" in a whisper that could be heard in New Zealand. I, being rather mature, rolled my eyes in my perfected Bratty Teenager technique and walked away.
A few classes later, it was lunchtime. Usually at lunch, I go with my friends to the uber-exclusive and oh-so-chichi... NERDY BOOK CLUB IN THE ENGLISH ROOM WITH OUR HIPPIE TEACHER!! YAY!!! It's great.
Except today, Mr. English Teacher had somewhere to be, so we had to go to the cafeteria with the rest of the populace. And may I just say, Aiyaiyai! Elbow room is a myth!
Afterward in Study Lab, Kayla spent the time mostly complaining along with me and inadvertantly cheering me up. Mostly because -- and she'll kill me for this -- Her face is so funny! I was having a mad laughing fit at her facial expressions while she just stared at me going "What? What?"
Then Social Studies rolled around and Kayla and I had to do research for our report on Benedict Arnold. We ended up discussing my new nickname for Derrick -- Schkiggledeenyo (I'm always coming up with nicknames for people) -- And wondering how it was even possible that Benedict died from a goldfish disease. Seriously, does anyone know?
Math was a blur, and so was the last period of the day, Magazine. I'm pretty sure I got yelled at, and somewhere along the way I think I staged a silent protest in front of my locker and told my friend Nichole that I was never going to class, EVER. She made me go...
What's the worst day you've ever had? Go ahead, make me feel like a whiner.
Signing off,
Sweet but Insane
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