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Friday, December 19, 2008

Look Out!

Views: 212
Comments: 3
    Okay, so I didn't update last week because I forgot to change the link in my sig for my NIN blog, silly of me! I gave you ample time to check it out, but only titsmcgee commented because he rocks.
    Anyways, I got an idea to write a UG-themed story, you may have heard of it, I won't reveal anything. Enjoy.   

    So one day I was walking to school, unaware that a strange day would soon unfold for me. I decided to get some fresh air today, to invigorate me for school, and maybe I'd even ask Sarah out today, if I was invigorated enough. It was early enough that I could see the pretty sunrise ahead of me, and cold enough that my damp hair stayed damp around my neck.
    I arrived at about two minutes after eight, perfect timing as advisor class started at eight. Something was very off though, everyone (and I mean everyone) was wearing track suits. Horrible, clashing coloured track suits, even the teachers were wearing sniper target jumpers that were popular in the nineties. Shit's FUCKED UP.
    Everyone stared at me as I walked through the central dome area and past the classroom windows. As I walked through my classroom door, my teacher stopped reading the announcements for a full twenty seconds as everyone stared at me, standing in the doorway. They were ALL wearing track suits.
    Finally, I stated, "I like pie," and sat down in a corner. The class carried on normally, ignoring me in my (normally) regular attire of jeans and a t-shirt. I remained confused and bewildered for fifteen minutes, until the bell rang. I got up to leave, but my advisor asked to speak with me, his oft-cheery voice now cold and reserved.
    "Uh...Farley, what are you doing?" he asked me, sounding nearly as confused as I was.
    "What...what do you mean?" I wondered, trying to get some answers.
    "What exactly did you do to your hair?" This question caught me off guard, and I stared in shock for several seconds, seeing as my hair was on my...head? I had put my hand on my head and discovered it was gone! I was bald as an eagle. I was even more confused as all my hair must have fallen off between the two seconds it took to walk into the school.
    "I...I guess I lost it, Mr. James." I said jokingly, still shocked. He chuckled.
    "Now, you know I'm going to have to send you to the principal, Farley," he said in a stern voice after he'd stopped laughing. It made sense...I guess, but I just had to ask why everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) was wearing the gaily coloured track suits.
    "Why is everyone, absolutely everyone but me wearing these crazy suits?" I asked him, my voice rising apprehensively. I'd hate if everyone in the school arranged to embarrass me on one day for no reason. Mr. James only chuckled once more and told me to go to the principal.
    Mrs. Gregory, the principal, was very large, and I hated to imagine the way the rainbow fabric must have stretched taut over her body. Making my way through the halls, I heard mutterings behind me the whole way, seemingly about my missing hair and not about my attire. I even passed a couple skin heads who shot daggers from their eyes and cracked their knuckles like wolves chewing on a moose.
    My mental image did not do real life justice, as Gregory was wearing a nice purple, yellow and red jacket complementing baby blue and lime green lulu lemons. A black and pink headband completed the outfit horridly.
    "Come into my office, Farley, I can see why you're here," she said tersely, and we quickly sat down, "This behaviour will absolutely not be tolerated. We don't deal with terrorists, atheists or the mentally challenged, and you seem to fall in each category quite neatly." Right, a little harsh but Gregory could be evil sometimes.
    "Uh, actually, I only misplaced my hair. What's wrong with that?" I inquired her in a low voice, meaning no disrespect.
    "Oh young boy, it is so much more than that! The...hatred in your actions. I'm afraid I'm expelling you, right now." Ouch. I imagine this was a joke, but it STILL DIDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! Only no one would laugh at this joke.
    "I'm arranging for you to meet with the superintendent," Great, he couldn't be in on the joke, could he? "Would you like to speak with a counselor as well?" Not really, but I nodded anyways, maybe she'd reveal some information about these strange occurrences.

    Gregory sent me packing across the hall to the counseling office. I was sent straight in to see Mrs. Bailey, because of my "condition."
    "Sheila, hold my calls, I might be in need of an old priest and a young priest, stay sharp." Mrs. Bailey closed the door to her office.
    "Mrs. Bailey, is this a joke, are you joking with me?" I hoped she'd see my side of the story, she often did if I had a problem with university or teachers.
    She sat down. "Are...are you joking Farley? What you're doing here is very, very serious, young man. I'm calling my parents right now." Great, now my parents are-wait, what?
    "Why are you calling your parents? That's weird." I was thoroughly confused now, what the hell.
    "They have to bake me an eggplant. Anyways, I'm prescribing you to take four Prozacs every hour until you're cured, and take two placebos every half hour because I'm testing the new flavours." Okay what the shiz, can she even prescribe Prozac? Can she even tell me that SHE'S PRESCRIBING PLACEBOS? Did everyone huff thirty ounces of paint thinner before they came to school or something?
    "Um...four Prozacs are enough to make an elephant see pink stars dancing, are you sure I'm that deranged?" I asked, resolving not to take any of the pills either way. I continued on, shouting, "And WHY is EVERYONE wearing these stupid track suits!"
    "Well, it's not-" Just then, three armed guards burst in, grabbed me, taking me roughly outside, and shoved me into a bulletproof car. They too were dressed in tracksuits, one of them even had bunnies on his jacket.
    Inside the car, a track-suited gentleman looked forlornly at me, as if he longed for something. I assumed this was the superintendent, but I kept my tongue, hoping he'd break the silence. It was prolonged.
    Finally, I spoke up. "So, um, what am I here for?" I wasn't optimistic, but maybe...
    "I've got no time kid, gimme your shoe! Now," he said urgently, so I started taking off my left shoe. He grabbed my arm.
    "No no no, ha ha ha, no no, ha ha ha! No, just...just...just..." he trailed off, smiling slightly. Okee, I looked away, incredibly weirded out. I had a thumb war with myself and remained in silence for the next thirty minutes. Eventually, the car stopped...back in front of the school. What?
    I was escorted roughly back into Gregory's office, but this time an old guy, dressed in a matching lemon yellow nylon jumpsuit, was sitting across from me.
    "Let's cut right to the chase, Farley," he told me in a hushed tone, "You're going down for a long, long time for this. You're just lucky they won't sentence you to an off-shore facility." This was very cryptic and I imagine it concerned the "heinous crime" I'd committed by losing my hair.
    "Um, what exactly did I do, sir?" I asked, seeing as I had a right to know of what I was being accused.
    "Ha! You know as well as I do, don't deny it." Yeah, sure. "Let's see, you broke section E, triple A, three sentences down, subsection E, sub-sub section 17, post-post-post-post-scriptum eleventeen." lol wut.
    "Okay, one more question. Why is everyone dressed so...weird?" I asked, hoping for a half-normal answer for once.
    He started laughing, chuckling at first, but it turned into a shrill wheezing. He stopped abruptly after a few minutes and said, "You can go now." I left resignedly, and headed down a hallway to find my friends; maybe they could hel-
    I was pulled into a maintenance closet and everything went black. When I awoke, I was tied to a chair, it was dark, but I wasn't gagged. It also smelt like old bleach, yummy!
    "Where am I, why am I here?" I cried out, scared. I heard footsteps brushing the concrete.
    "You know who I am, Farley." No I don't. "We're putting an end to this bullshit, right now, right here." I heard the click of a pistol hammer, and I shouted quickly "WAIT!"
    "Before you kill me, why is everyone dressed in fucking nineties track suits?" I said angrily.
    Another arrogant chuckle, I was fucking sick and tired of that know-it-all laugh. "I wasn't actually going to kill you Farley, I was taking away your problem. Since you asked though, I'm going to have to kill you. I guess I'll answer your question if it eases your soul." I heard the rustling of pages as I struggled futilely against the bonds around my ankles and wrists.
    "Two Kings, chapter eleven, line four." Great, a biblical passage. This should be good. "Matthew asks the exact same question you did."  Uh huh.
    "And God sayeth unto Matthew, it's stereo amp, and I don't think it's tube. However, for a stereo amp, it is very good. Don't plug guitar into it; just use it as hi-fi if it works." Then he shot me in the head.

Fin

Some original content for you guys.
10:30 am - 3 comments - 0 Kudos - Report!
Comments
titsmcgee852 wrote on Dec 20th, 2008 2:24am

TL;DR

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titsmcgee852 wrote on Dec 20th, 2008 10:44pm

Yay i got mentioned!

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JD Close wrote on Jan 4th, 2009 11:02pm

um... so why did they wear the jump suits?

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