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i am going to present myself with a lunch break PLAQUE to aid in remembrance so that when i am being fed tiny spoonfulls of crushed tums for my evening meal in the nursing home and the sun is a watery yellow looping through the blinds on the windows grimed with the handprints of wise old angels looking for the fountain of youth, i will look back with fondness. and realize i do not remember what the plaque is for. i noticed while walking away from the school that there is a yellow line angrily slashing sidewalks in half in a large rectangle around the buildings. i tugged on some woman's sleeve and said, "is someone doing an ART PROJECT? may i be involved?" this woman scowled at me and spit to the side of my shoe. then she told me i was not supposed to cross the yellow line. ever. a new POLICY. do not cross the yellow line. i am sure it will be printed in giant bold text on papers across the campus, with the words "do not" italicized. that is HORRIFYING because we are now officially penned in and no longer is it an implied situation. i tried crossing it today to save a worm from impending doom on the shiny sidewalk. "ha ha," i said, "as soon as i cross the sacred yellow line i will DESERVE the red star next to my name on the 'kids who need mentors' list*." there are giant men guarding this line with walky talkies hanging from their sagging belts. the walky talkies are often hidden beneath their girth so you must assume they are armed at all times. these men saw me crouching as a wee child over the trembling mass of a dying life. i saw their shadows approaching and heard them speaking static into the walky talkies about me. and then they LOOMED over me and the stupid WORM and said, "GET BACK HERE. WHAT'S YOUR NAME. DO YOU SEE ANYONE ELSE ON THAT SIDE OF THE LINE? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE. BLAH BLAH." i noticed they stood behind the line to say this. after i was inside of the safe zone again they told me to put my EYE DEE tag around my neck. i am an indescript black shape. here is what i LIKE about the public school: i can insert powdery brain plugs into my facial orfices in the bathroom and then return to class with my face sallow and my eyes BUGGING OUT. this is grounds for receiving encouraging pats on my back accompanied by the words "you're a good kid, A GOOD KID!" and scholarship money due to the 'bad background' i come from where my angry mouth buzzes like the fridge in the broken household. HOWEVER, i cannot step over a line without someone's blood vessels BURSTING all over me because my insufficent obeisance for the authorities who are keeping me from delinquency with tags and bird cages clearly defines me as an UGLY reprobate drugstore cowboy that deserves to rest in the gellatin of memory as part of the collective miscreant that "makes the world what it is today." and so forth. but i must go back there now. * note thing--it is TRUE and GREAT, sister said she saw my name on a list of N'ER-DO-WELLS that need "guidance" from a helping hands program on her roommate's wall. it even had a bright red star next to it.
by The JavaScript Source
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