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LATER, IN THE HALL.... heads are glazed over in the halls, or hidden behind giant tissue paper mums with double-a battery charged teddy bears who will fix breakfast for you if you switch off their musical blinking lights. real faces are left in the toilet and it is a fruitless place, the public school. reeks of apathy and BRONCO BURGERS and MORONS. i go into my next class and people mill about speaking of this and of that. apparantly i am wearing my heart-breaker mustache today. it was a mistake. A MISTAKE. if this were a comic book there would be a dead man strewn over his desk and his offended pals glowering over me with HATCHETS. my mustache would be rendered useless in this situation. oh i am swollen with guilt. LATER, at home... i am eating a bagel sandwich whose physical properties have been enhanced by toasting. logically, the toastier this bagel is the better its character. but this is no logical bagel because it is really a giant crouton after heating. its surface is the type that scratches at the corners of one's mouth. CRANCH CRANCH. i set my bagel down on the lawn and say, in a voice that sounds as if it is coated in whole-milk if you are listening from behind the fence, "what a ROTTEN sandwich." shake my fist. then it ubruptly begins to rain on my sandwich and it is no longer too crunchy to eat. this is the best thing that has happened all day. hooray for jesus and the virgin mary who eats money and tin cans and will someday eat mark summers. (hint: this is an "inside joke" that will not be funny to anyone. not even to the person it is inside of.) here i would write something insightful and GOOD to make this all worth-while. but not today.
by The JavaScript Source
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