Hello world.
This blog post is going to be a little halfhazard because it is 10:38 and I am doing homework I don't want to do and just drank a caffeine-free root beer and tried persuading my mind that it had caffeine so I could stay awake.
Bear with me here.
Bear?
Bare?
Bair?
So anyways, I have a bit of a confession to make and an even cooler story!
It was a Tuesday, and I had been talking to Lafflin quite a bit. Not like awkward high-fives and comic exchanges, I mean like hour-long discussions on the origin of his name and stuff. So now I have like five little sevie boy friends who love me, all basically because of this one thing.
It started out like any other day, with me and Lafflin and Lafflin's friend Elliott talking about stick figures and how I can't draw them or something. We were walking out of the school from the back, and were just getting through the big gate that opens a sidestreet into the parking lot when suddenly these three other sevies are suddenly in front of us with a very dead squirrel on the end of a very long stick. They drop the squirrel right in front of us, in the walking zone.
Now Lafflin and Elliott try and ignore it, shuffle around them, move on, but I stand frozen, and I cannot move. Lafflin stops too, and the boys are leaping around the dead animal and laughing and poking it with sticks like it's some tribal ritual. The squirrel was lying on its side in the asphalt, and you could tell it had JUST died, because its body was still all floppy and there was blood coming out of its mouth.
Their voices were high and squeaky and loud, like a bee in your ear almost, and I could not bear to look at them. (Bear? Bare?) I just stared at the squirrel, silent. My fists were clenched, and just before I lost it the three kids moved out of the way, and we moved on.
"They have a higher probability than most of contracting rabies," said Lafflin.
"I almost punched somebody over there," I said.
But then we kept walking, and I could not turn around, but when I finally did, I saw the smallest kid with the highest voice and a striped shirt that was too small for him carrying the squirrel at the end of his stick. And he was walking towards us.
It took a while for me to compute what was happening, but after a few seconds I saw his face and realized he was trying to scare us away, and at that point all was lost and I started walking towards them.
I don't know exactly what I looked like, but it was enough for the squirrel kid to drop the stick and start running. Not that he got very far. I took one step and grabbed his shirt and punched him in the shoulder, hard.
"It's already dead."
My voice had taken on someone else's, someone scarier and louder than I. I punched him again.
"Why would you kill something that's already dead?"
He got back up and stumbled in and out of a bush.
"It's dead. It's down. You leave it. You let it be."
Lafflin and Elliott were standing at the corner waiting for me like o_o
The kid stumbled out of the ditch and made his way into the street. His buddies had picked up the squirrel for him, and they ran out into the street, the opposite way we were going. They weren't used to getting told off by a girl in glasses. And they weren't about to stand for it.
The shortest kid wriggled out of his friends' grasp, and for a second they thought he was coming back for more. But he only stood in the middle of the street and called behind him, "Tree hugger!"
I was called a Tree Hugger.
Didn't they know?
Monsters don't hug.
I stood taller, and walked backwards in the middle of a side street no one else used. I spread my arms out and punched the sky and shouted with all the defense of a squirrel that was dead,
"MY NAME IS SHADY."
And it is. Now they know.
And I now know that I am strangely protective of environmental morals and do not hesitate to punch a boy. My name never really had any significance before now, but now I have a purpose to go with it.
This blog post is going to be a little halfhazard because it is 10:38 and I am doing homework I don't want to do and just drank a caffeine-free root beer and tried persuading my mind that it had caffeine so I could stay awake.
Bear with me here.
Bear?
Bare?
Bair?
So anyways, I have a bit of a confession to make and an even cooler story!
It was a Tuesday, and I had been talking to Lafflin quite a bit. Not like awkward high-fives and comic exchanges, I mean like hour-long discussions on the origin of his name and stuff. So now I have like five little sevie boy friends who love me, all basically because of this one thing.
It started out like any other day, with me and Lafflin and Lafflin's friend Elliott talking about stick figures and how I can't draw them or something. We were walking out of the school from the back, and were just getting through the big gate that opens a sidestreet into the parking lot when suddenly these three other sevies are suddenly in front of us with a very dead squirrel on the end of a very long stick. They drop the squirrel right in front of us, in the walking zone.
Now Lafflin and Elliott try and ignore it, shuffle around them, move on, but I stand frozen, and I cannot move. Lafflin stops too, and the boys are leaping around the dead animal and laughing and poking it with sticks like it's some tribal ritual. The squirrel was lying on its side in the asphalt, and you could tell it had JUST died, because its body was still all floppy and there was blood coming out of its mouth.
Their voices were high and squeaky and loud, like a bee in your ear almost, and I could not bear to look at them. (Bear? Bare?) I just stared at the squirrel, silent. My fists were clenched, and just before I lost it the three kids moved out of the way, and we moved on.
"They have a higher probability than most of contracting rabies," said Lafflin.
"I almost punched somebody over there," I said.
But then we kept walking, and I could not turn around, but when I finally did, I saw the smallest kid with the highest voice and a striped shirt that was too small for him carrying the squirrel at the end of his stick. And he was walking towards us.
It took a while for me to compute what was happening, but after a few seconds I saw his face and realized he was trying to scare us away, and at that point all was lost and I started walking towards them.
I don't know exactly what I looked like, but it was enough for the squirrel kid to drop the stick and start running. Not that he got very far. I took one step and grabbed his shirt and punched him in the shoulder, hard.
"It's already dead."
My voice had taken on someone else's, someone scarier and louder than I. I punched him again.
"Why would you kill something that's already dead?"
He got back up and stumbled in and out of a bush.
"It's dead. It's down. You leave it. You let it be."
Lafflin and Elliott were standing at the corner waiting for me like o_o
The kid stumbled out of the ditch and made his way into the street. His buddies had picked up the squirrel for him, and they ran out into the street, the opposite way we were going. They weren't used to getting told off by a girl in glasses. And they weren't about to stand for it.
The shortest kid wriggled out of his friends' grasp, and for a second they thought he was coming back for more. But he only stood in the middle of the street and called behind him, "Tree hugger!"
I was called a Tree Hugger.
Didn't they know?
Monsters don't hug.
I stood taller, and walked backwards in the middle of a side street no one else used. I spread my arms out and punched the sky and shouted with all the defense of a squirrel that was dead,
"MY NAME IS SHADY."
And it is. Now they know.
And I now know that I am strangely protective of environmental morals and do not hesitate to punch a boy. My name never really had any significance before now, but now I have a purpose to go with it.
Now I am going to finish my homework.
Goodnight.
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