Things I Learned In High School

15 

High School was a confusing time for some. During this time we were force to make decisions which would affect our lives in major, sometimes even cataclysmic ways. For the first time we were confronted with decisions like: Should I drink? Should I smoke? Which social click will I fall into? Who should I date? Team Edward or team Jacob? These critical decisions we had to make shape how we socially interacted with one another for years to come. After going through this gauntlet of self realization, I realized some very important things that I would like to perhaps pass down to others who may benefit from my knowledge.

1)      Handicap Stalls are the best to poop in.

2)      Boy’s bathrooms are disgusting as is, so flush after yourself and don’t contribute to the perpetual epidemic that is occurring.

3)      If you don’t read a book by its cover often times you get several chapters in, just to realize how much time you’ve wasted

4)      Relationships are like lunch tables, if things get to messy, just go and find a new one.

5)      Sometimes the best revenge is to just be happy.

6)      It’s cliché but true; procrastination is like masturbation, it’s a lot of fun until you realize you are screwing yourself.

7)      It’s not the wins that make you who you are, it’s the losses, but boy do I look good in ties.

8)      Dress codes are put in place for a reason, and that reason is to protect us from mental scaring in most cases.

9)      Fire alarms are like hearing power tools being used, there is no need to panic, it’s probably just a drill.

10)  Honest men are often the best liars.

11)  You can make just as many enemies as friends on Facebook.

12)    As long as you laugh, the joke was a success.

13)  Just because you have the right to do something, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.

14)  The worst person to lie to is yourself.

15)  Best friends can be the worst cancers.

I will now take the time to explain what wisdom I wish to instill you with.

Number One: this is just a truth; they are both spacious and accommodating. They are also on average cleaner, so if you really need to relieve yourself I highly recommend you do so in one of those bad boys.

Number Two: we must realize that we are all still animals at heart. As evident by the fecal matter on the walls, urine on the sinks, and distinct aroma emitted from the boys bathroom. So remember to always try to leave the bathroom cleaner than you found it, and realize that if you don’t you’re just as bad as the vandal.

Number Three: We have been told since we were young to never judge a book by its cover, however sometimes precursors and cues are dead on, and to be ignorant of them can lead to hardship, a broken heart, or a waste of time. Read the cover, it’ll tell you a lot.

Number Four: A major key to relationships you must learn is when to get out. The longer you stay in the messier it can get. I’ve seen and experienced many a time where relationship can muck up other things you have going for you. A good relationship should never require you to sacrifice your happiness, friends, hobbies, or well-being, and if that is what is occurring, I suggest you move on before you become someone you are not.

Number Five: In life, people may do things simply to hurt you. Giving in and letting them see they have affected you is the biggest defeat you can allow. Instead show off the fact that they’re cruelty does not affect you, simply grin and bear it, and know that you are not giving them the satisfaction they so crave.

Number Six: You must confront your work early, keeping up with the small stuff will prevent big task from occurring. It’s much easier to climb a hundred mole hills rather than a mountain.

Number Seven: In my high school career I’ve experienced many highs and lows. In football for instance, I was fortunate enough to have a great winning percentage. However those blow-out wins didn’t teach me much about myself, instead it was the hard losses that allowed me to see where I’d fallen short, and inspired me to work harder and strive to become better. I’ve also learned that I clean up nice, not a life lesson, just a stated fact. Ties look good on me.

Number Eight: Unfortunately, we can’t all be super models. We can’t all pull off the looks that some can get away with. Knowing this full well some of us still give it the old college try, this is both distracting and disturbing. Many girls show off all of their “assets” by wearing revealing clothing to seek attention. They may think this is attractive, or somehow desired, and for some that maybe true, but not to the majority.

Girls have to realize that men are simple creatures, and often times, mystery is the greatest aphrodisiac.

Number Nine: Fire alarms can trigger your natural instinct to just throw caution to the wind and just get the heck out of where ever you are. However the damage from the panic may be worse than the threat itself. Slow down and don’t cause more problems for yourself. A person is smart, people are dumb. Don’t fall for mass hysteria about things in life, because whatever the situation maybe, it’s probably not as bad as it seems. 

Number Ten: Although most of what they say is guanine and true, it’s that one major lie that really can affect how you see them. I have encountered many a person I’ve idolized because of their ideals, and have listen to their words of wisdom, however I would later learn of a critical flaw, or a fallacy they’ve told. Their lie is often seeded at the bedrock of their logic, which then poisons all words that come from it. No one is perfect, you must always remember that.

Number Eleven: Many things on Facebook can tempt you to sound off your opinion on things that often don’t concern you. It could be a relationship status, an ignorant comment, or something else along those lines. Don’t take the bait and put yourself out there for reticule. Even if you do fire back with some witty comment, you have to realize that getting into fights on the internet is like being in the Special Olympics, win or lose you’re still retarded.

Number Twelve: Throughout high school there has been a common misconception that I enjoy making others laugh for attention. The truth is, I enjoy making myself laugh and others just happen to listen in. As long as you got amusement out of what was said, and it made you feel better, that’s all that matters. I am a firm believer that laughter is the best medicine, and my life goal is to overdose on it.

Number Thirteen: In life, situations where someone or something has wronged you will occur, in these situations it is easy to exact revenge and cause the other party pain. But to what end? Why make someone feel such pain if you personally know how it made you feel. I know turning the other cheek is hard, but sometimes the most devastating blow, is the blow never dealt.

Number Fourteen: We all face our short comings at one point or another. When we do, it is easy to make excuses, to blame it on others, or on the hand you were dealt. Ultimately you are the one responsible for your well being. It is you that has failed. This is nothing to be ashamed of; learning from your defeats will make you a greater person. You can never grow if you don’t acknowledge first that there is room to grow. Lying to yourself does you know good.

Number Fifteen: Although best friends can be the foundation to emotional stability, you must realize when they are becoming more of a liability rather than a benefit. Often they inadvertently bring you into a conflict that is not your own, which then causes unneeded stress. Sometimes you must realize as painful as it is that you cannot allow your foundation to keep you from growing.

I hope these things I’ve learned can guide you in the right path, but the most important thing I want you to learn that I have, is that you should never stop growing. Enjoy the life you lead, and the people you surround yourself with and no amount of rain will ever keep you from having a sunny day.

this was an option instead of writing a long ass essay on some stupid fucking book like wuthering heights. gayest book ever.

Gammazord

1409-1

Creative option Q1

I have always liked poetry, but never really had the chance to do any, so I chose poetry.  I don’t usually write poetry, because most of my time is consumed by football, but I wish we wrote poetry in school, because I would much rather write poems than do a research paper. Ironic.  I like poetry because it bounces, its not long and dragged out and forty pages long, its witty, and concise.  The flow and happiness is invigorating and can brighten your day within seconds, as opposed to a fifty page chapter in which the main character gets his heart broken, which in turn, puts you in the bitter barn.  Poetry is loose, and not too structured or specific.  Made up words are allowed, and add to the overall tone of the poem.  Imagery plays a big role, and helps to illustrate what the poet is trying to portray.  There is no complications in poetry it can be fun, easy, and stress free, which is why I like it.  It comes from your own mind, so there is no MLA form type 2 super long complicated citations that could take longer than the research paper itself to be made. Simplicity at its finest.

Poem 1                                                Manbearpig

Manbearpig was the beast of all beasts,

He’d feast upon all he could feast,

He ate a wide variety of things,

Gadgets, gizmos, doohickees, and springs

Trinkets, loaders, holders, and rings

Metal, plastic, paper, and glass

If he could he’d take a bite right out of your…

But Manbearpig just did as a Manbearpig should,

He did as he did, and that’s all that he could,

He lived in a cave on top of a hill,

Next to a town, where lived Jack and Jill

They were a pair that was matched by none,

If dared to a race, they was gone before “one”

One day Jack says to Jill

“My lady, I sure am up for a thrill.”

“What is it jack?”

“I want to go up the hill.”

“Are you on crack?”

“No, I just figured you might...”

Before he could finish, Jill was out of sight.

Running so fast they forgot all about

Manbearpig, who was, without a doubt,

Grouchy, mean, and in the poutiest of pouts.

For today he hadn’t eaten but a paper bag, and an old floor mop.

Jack and Jill approached the top,

When all of a sudden they heard a pop,

A bam, a crash, a rumble and a smash,

Manbearpig was out of his cave, and on a mad dash.

As Jack and Jill went to turn around,

The beast of all beasts smacked them to the ground.

This was the end of poor Jack and poor Jill,

and to this day Manbearpig still lives on the hill.

Poem 2                                                First day of school

My shoes, my books, my clothes.

“Yep, I’m alright.”

I take a look in the mirror,

“Yep, I look tight.”

I walked out the door, and got on the bus,

It took me to a place, I’d like not to discuss,

The classroom was smelly, the teachers were mean,

The girls were too inexperienced, and the food was obscene,

Talking was illegal, and fun was a crime,

The books were so heavy, they ruined my spine.

Everyday was a batlle,

The teacher would gripe, and ramble, and rattle,

The girls in the class were likely to tattle.

I would ask questions, always wondering why

The teacher took me outside and gave me a talk,

I believe she thought a wand of her chalk.

She waved it up and she waved it down,

I asked her why,

And her fake ”I like little kids, and enjoy this job, and am not under paid” smile

 turned into a frown

She glared at me like a bull ready to charge,

Her nose blew steam, and her horns grew large.

She swept her foot front to back,

She was a creature called a teacher,

And she was ready to attack.

Lucky for me, and bad for her

I was a pro, and boy did I know.

I took out my red cloth, and I slung it around

I was more efficient than a rodeo clown.

I held my red cloth so that it covered a wall,

She knew nothing, and I knew all.

She charged as fast as she could,

Her efforts would do her no good,

She fell into my trap,

She collided with the wall, and made a thunderous clap.

I stood over her with a triumphant smile,

I had saved the world, so it was all worth while.

Some ways to make people say WTF

Idea credit goes to BabyArmsButler for this one, if you have crossed paths with him on CODMW2, then you know to true meaning of fear, death, and destruction.  He has been called shankazauros, knifeoppotomus, bladezilla by his foes after they hath been smitten to the vile depths from whence they came. 
1.  The WTF pizza pick-up:  Order some za at a local delivery place, one that is fairly busy to achieve maximum wtf value.  Wait long enough to be certain that your pizza is ready, dress in all black and wear a ski mask.  (NOTE: it is of the utmost importance to have exact change ready and prepared. otherwise you'll look like an asshole)  Fling open the door, sprint up the the cashier, slam down exact change, take pizza, and run out.  Don't look at anyone, if you do make eye contact with someone, you have to hold that eye contact until they shit themselves, or until they look away.

2.  Walk into a movie theatre, don't buy any tickets.  Go up to the concession stand, order a large popcorn, recieve it, then leave.  Try to leave without paying, if the cashier asks you to pay, turn around, drop the popcorn, and leave.

I Just found this going through my computer. In 8th grade i drew a picture of a farm in art class, and part of the assignment was to write a story to go with it. So here is what i came up with. I'll see if i can scan in the farm later if ya want...Enjoy

DOGGY STYLE

Way long ago , about 1986, pick up sticks, there was a huge gang war that took place on this farm.  It may just look like an ordinary farm, but it isn’t, a secret trap door located deep in the cornfields leads underground to an extense, elaborate network of laboratories.  These labs are where the Krips invented crack, that precious rock. Chea.  The Krips crack business then took off.  Profits skyrocketed, the Krip members outsold every gang in Compton, even their rival gang, the Bloodz.  The Krip members had more dubbs, bling bling, and Cadillacs than ever before.  This was the life of  G’.  The Bloodz were certainly not happy about this.  Tension was in the air.  The Bloodz were jealous because they still had to sell snowflakes, while the Krips were moving weight in rocks.  War at this point was inevitable.  All that was needed was one little spark to set it off.
            There was one Krip in particular who was a straight up hustler.  This kid was so dope he could sell water to a well.  They called him he dogg, Snoop Dogg.  Skeet, skeet, skeet.  This cat was crazy rich, he sipped gin and juice while being laid back, he had his mind on his money and his money on his mind.  He was one day chillin at his auntie house, ( because every gangster worth two cents knows that that is the best place to hide the yams.)  And he had a couple…shorties. (that’s a gangsta boo in case you didn’t know).  Well one dem shorties wasn’t but a shorty at all.  She had a man and everything.  Well shoot, Snoop wasn’t going to be played the fool so he did what any OG’ does and smacked a trick.  Well it just so happens that the shorty’s man was a Blood.  This was a problem… Lil’ scrappy, O kay, kay, kay. You don’t want no problems (problems).  So when the Bloodz found out that Snoop smacked a trick they planned to roll up on Snoop.  Smacking another man’s trick is a gangster violation 101, Snoop knew this so he got his tech, tech, tech nine and his forty oz. and rode off in his drop top, hittin switches.  Cuz it aint nothing but a G’ thang baby, two loked out kids so we crazy, Death row is the label that pays me.  And snoop was off to the farm to pick up some rocks, and then he set out on the Compton streets to deal some ish to Ashy Larry.  Ashy was the biggest fiend out there.  This fool from Marcy projects.  Cough up a lung where I’m from Marcy son. WHAT.  Ashy could smoke a rock like nobody else.  Snoop also sold some crack to big burd, Ronald McDonald, Barney, and Bill Cosby.  Snoop was just chillin on the block, with his thang cocked, possibly sittin on a drop (now), cause he a ridah, (yea) just a soul survivor, when them po-po rolled up.  Snoop was like man , bump da the police coming straight from the underground, a young kid got it bad cause he brown, not the other colors that the police think, they have the authority to kill a minority.  But instead of fighting the po-po Snoop just ran.  It wasn’t very hard to get away from the police because they were walking doughnuts with arms, and Snoop had his air max’s laced up.  Snoop ran all the way to southside.  Southside was the border project between the Krip’s and Blood’s territory.  Snoop was just going half on a sack, when some Bloodz rolled up talking that bull spit.  Snoop wain’t having it so he was ready to bust his glock, when them Bloodz told Snoop to chiggity check himself before he riggity wreck himself cause big deez in your mouth is bad for your health.  That was it, snoop G’d up and emptied a full clip on them marks like ratta tat tat never hesitate to put a Blood on his back.  Snoop capped these chumps and kept they heads ringing.

            Finally snoop made it back to the farm, in tha basement, and he straight fell asleep.  Then he heard wake up, wake up, wake up, it’s the first of the month, get up, get up, get up, cash them checks and get up.  Back on Bloodz territory they was fittin to ride on Snoop, because he slumped they homies.  This was the spark that set it off.  The war took place on the crack farm.  Snoop was caught in the middle but he is topp dogg, and he left more fools dead than AIDS in Africa.  Snoop now lives happily ever after because he can drop it like its hot, drop it like its hot, drop it like its hot, when them pigs try to get at him he dropped it like it was hott, dropped it like it was hott, and to this day he… Drops it like its hott.

Ms. Smith

Art & Design

Pd. 8

This is a story i wrote for a college class. My dickface professor gave me a C- because he wouldnt know brilliance if it hit him in the facking head

Creative Writing

Final Draft short story 1

The First Zombie

           

Charlie stood in the bathroom wearing his whitey tighties.  They were old and the color had faded so they were much more tighty than they were whitey.  He liked this for three main reasons.  One, he felt protected this way.  Two, with less room to move there was less room for error. In the event of a vengeful testicular itch—the kind that must be scratched for fear that if let go it would turn into a carnivorous termite—his genitals were held in the same place by that dense elastic weave, eliminating the possibility of scratching too deep, too hard, or misfiring and ending up in the grundle.  And three, arguably the most important, was erection suppression.  He had always worn boxers until one day in middle school; there was a school spelling bee, sweatpants, and a boner. 

He pulled down his tighties and flicked on his hair trimmer.  He paused, thinking, looking at his reflection, and after a few moments his mind settled on an idea that he had been tossing around for a few hours.  He could restrain himself no longer and gave in to the overpowering desire to ‘go ham on his hedges’, to do some wild pornstar shit.

“Now she got to gimme that crucial neck.” He said in triumph as he sculpted the last of his creation. After giving everything a final once over, he pulled up his shorts as he normally would, but instead of coming up slowly and resting gently on his waste, they flew up due to a lack of friction from the thicket of pubs that had previously encompassed his entire nether region.  The end result: a self-induced wedgie.  With an ass full of mesh and a floor full of pubes—Charlie had a habit of leaving messes—he grabbed his clothes, left the bathroom, walked down the hall and entered his room. 

“Yo whatsup?” he said to Darell, his roommate, who was deeply invested in a game of halo.

“Who dat?”

Charlie pried his wedgie out and crept up quietly on his roommate.  When he was less than a foot away, he jokingly karate chopped Darell’s thick, muscular neck.

“Yaaaa!”

His roommate dropped the controller and ferociously spun around in the chair to face Charlie.  They exchanged fake karate blows for five seconds and then bowed to each other. 

“Aye.  The shaolin is with you my young disciple.  Your technique grows better with each day.  Soon you will float as the lotus flowers do in the autumn breeze.”  Said Charlie.

“Man you ain’t tight.”

“The blackness of my belt is darker than the inside of a coffin on a moonless night.”

His roommate burst into laughter.

“You a fool bruh…. So what you did last night?  You get down on them hoes?”

“Shit you know me.” said Charlie

“Aha. Yea tell me about it in a sec… but on some real shit, when are we gonna start ying-yangin’ bitches?”

“When we find some that wanna get ying-yanged. Look Darrell, not every girl wants to get banged by a black guy and a white guy at the same time.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, every girl wants to get some, and most of them probably wanna get nailed by black dudes and white dudes, but at the same time?  That’s one in a million.”

“Yea.  This shitty dorm room don’t help either.  It’s not like we seducing hoes with suede couches, big screen TV’s, and like fuckin animal fur carpets and shit, or whatever these rich white girls like ” Said Darrell.

“It wouldn’t matter if we were in the fucking pope’s courtyard, the point is that none of em wanna get ying-yanged.”

“Damn. True.  Aight so what about this bitch from last night?  She straight?” asked Darrell.

“Yea.  She would have been a huge cock tease, but I drop nukes all day and train noobs how to noscope in my sleep, I’m pretty much a seasoned vet, a L33Tzor extraordinaire if you will, so I used ninja focus to overcome her evil ways of teasing cock and bluing balls.  I walked into her room with my shirt off cuz I was just strolling around about to go to bed, just got out the bathroom.  She gravitates towards me just like zooms towards me. This bitch ran a 4.1 forty right up to me.  Like a fucking…paper clip to a lodestone,”  Darrell tilted his head like a puppy, indicating that further explanation was needed.  “ or a big ass magnet.” Charlie clarified.

  He spread his hands apart and then smacked them together. 

“I barely had a chance to look at her, but whatever, my boy back home used to say ‘pussy has no face’ so I was like fuck it, I’m down.  She was pretty hot though.  Big ass lips, nice firm tits, and a very, very spankable ass, but she was really fucking annoying, and when she talked, she lisped or somethin on some words and it made her sound like a frog.  Like, some words came outta her throat and not her mouth, I dunno.  Females are strange.  It was at that point that I realized that I should fix it… with my cock.”

Darrell giggled and said, “I told ya’ll Charlie was a fool.” but he and Charlie were the only ones in the room.  “My boy dun did it again.”

“So, “ continued Charlie, “ We left the common room of the quad, you know how those rooms look, with the big space in the middle and the two doubles connected on the left and right?”

Darrell nodded.

            “She grabbed me by the waist and took me into her room, raping my body all the way ‘til we got to her bed.  This bitch wanted pipe, or so I thought.  So we were making out, and normally I don’t give a fuck how a bitch kisses, I don’t really care, but this girl could actually piss you off with kisses.  Every time we would kiss she would always go under my lips, and put her lips around my bottom lip, and it was just really fucking frustrating.  She had unbelievable lips, but she just kissed like she didn’t give a fuck.  Like she wouldn’t leave the goddamn thing alone, no matter how low I tucked my chin, she would kiss my bottom lip.  I wanted to headbutt her and toss her out the goddamn window.  And then she was just doin’ too much.  She would mash her tongue into my mouth.  It was actually very stressful.  So I moved to start lickin’ her nipples, which were phenomenal.” 

Charlie stuck his tongue out and flipped it around as if licking a floating nipple. 

”Bitch was going crazy and shit.  So we were going out it for a good ten minutes by now and I was honestly tryin’ to suck one of her nipples off to get her back for that horrid display of kissing and wasteful use of giant lips.  I gave up on the nipples, not because I got tired, or that they wouldn’t come off, cuz I think I coulda gotten one, but because she liked it too much.  She was eating this shit up so I was like hell no bitch I gotta get mine too.  So I met her back at eye level and she went to kiss me like a viper or a snake aiming to strike my bottom lip.  I made no attempt to evade, I didn’t even move as she attacked my lifeless lips.  I was just like whatever bitch as long as I get that dome.  She started laying kisses down my stomach.  You know how bitches do sometimes if they ain’t comin’ at the D from weird angles and shit. They like start at your neck then move down?”

“Yeuh.” Grunted Darrell

            “Well that whole shit happened, so she pulls down my pants and was like, ‘whitey tighties?’, and normally I woulda checked a bitch on the spot, just glocked her right across the face, but I really wanted to bust this nut, and if it meant lettin a bitch slide, then slide on bitch.  So I just giggled ‘Yea.’ Hoping that she would think I was cute.  Maybe she would blow me even harder.  But when she pulled down my undies she didn’t blow me at all. She didn’t kiss me.  She came back up to eye level with me and said in her froggish voice, ‘You have to shave if you want that.’  I was like what the fuck bitch.  What I’m supposed to do with this raging boner.  These lame ass, unenthusiastic hand jobs ain’t getting it done, bumping and grinding and dry humping just making my dick raw, I’m ready for some neck.  But I knew no neck would be given, and that this was one of the trials involved in the 36 chambers of the shaolin.  Against my creed, I used my ninja powers.”

            “Ahh shit! What you did?” said Darrell. 

            “I hit that bitch with a shuriken and broke out.”

            “Ahaha… You a clown.”

            “Sike I just knew that I had to bust this nut, so I focused my ki energy and started makin out with her again, despite how miserable it was.  She started givin me a handski, but I did most of the work.  Basically it was me just humping the fuck outta her hand.  Right when I was about to bust she pulled her hand off and I was on a hair trigger.  It was like purgatory for my penis, suspended right in between heaven and earth.  As she went to get out of bed and put her clothes back on her ass grazed the tip of my dick ever so slightly.  Every muscle in my body clenched.  I was aiming at her, and would have liked to just be like ‘Oops’ and just nut all up on her, but I wasn’t sure that it would make it that far.  So I just turned down into the bed and blew the most massive load right into her sheets.  Good thing I didn’t aim at her cuz, it might have killed her.  It hit the bed with so much force, I think I actually levitated on a stream of semen for a few seconds.  As she was happily getting dressed, oblivious to the meaning of my movement under her covers, I was coating her sheets with myself.  Bitch had no idea.”

            “My man.” Said Darrell, with a proud look on his face, extending a fist and Charlie dapped him without hesitation.  “So what happened?”

            “Well,” Charlie said  ,“ Normally its usually like a four-roper or a three-roper if I’ve jerked off a lot that day, ya know?  But this was like at least ten ropes, so it took me a while.  But after that I just got up she molested my bottom lip goodbye.  And she said she’d have a surprise for me if I did what she asked me.”

            “True.  You shaved?”

            “Yup.”  Charlie lowered his shorts just enough to reveal the giant landing strip he had previously carved in the bathroom.  “When I get enough chest hair, I’m gonna shave that bitch up my whole body.  Then I wanna get a Mohawk to complete the look.  Racing stripe my entire body.  Fuck yea!”

            “Damn white boys strange.”  Said Darrell as he turned away from Charlie to power off the Xbox.  “It’s late I’m bout to sleep. But that’s some crazy shit.”

            “Well what did you do last night Darrell?

            “Iunno, just minor shit.”  He said as he left the room to go brush his teeth.  Charlie stood for a few moments looking at his reflection in black TV screen.  He examined himself until the door flung open.

            “Charlie go clean up your god damn pubes!” said Darrell

            “Oh fuck, my fault man.”  Charlie left the room to go clean up his mess.  He entered the bathroom and kicked the majority of the pubes behind one of the toilets.  With the door halfway open, he looked back to make sure the pubes couldn’t be seen from the door.  When he turned back around, a course, over-starched cloth met his cheek.  He pulled his face back and saw that the green cloth ran down to the floor.  It was a bed sheet.  It was that bitch…the one from last night.  She pulled the sheet back from his face and gazed into his eyes. 

            “Hey.” She said with a subtle smile, shocking Charlie with her lack of hostility.  She seemed different from last night.  She didn’t speak like Kermit the frog; her voice was smooth and soft.

            “Sup girl?”

            “Girl!?  Do you even know my name?” 

            Charlie responded with his best defense and looked at her as if it were a rhetorical question and the answer would be provided shortly.  It wasn’t.  Her previously angelic gaze transformed into a demonic stare, the likes of which could defeat even the Eye of Sauron.  The tension was building, multiplying with each second of silence.  She had Charlie by the balls, again. 

            “Its... ughhh.”  Charlie scrambled for words, but none came.  He reverted to plan B and began formulating his attack in his head.  I don’t give a fuck what your name is.  If you aren’t gonna suck dick and won’t let me fuck pussy, then at least have the common courtesy to go get some lotion and jerk me off right.  What kind of self-respecting whore gives dry hand jobs?  I thought you took pride in being a hooker.  Are sandpaper hand jobs getting it done on the corner, or do you pay the customers to let you rip off their cock?  I can’t belie—

Something had completely struck him off guard.  His train of thought stopped entirely.  He now focused all his attention on her.  This was the first time he had actually looked at her face to face, noticing her understated beauty, instead of just looking at ass, tits, and lips.  She was exceptionally pretty.  She had on no make up, no glitter, no slutty half shirt with holes in the back, no skin tight leggings, she wore none of the stuff that Charlie’s eyes had been previously trained to desire.  He had discovered that this girl was real in a way that he had never felt before.  She appeared as she was.  And she was beautiful.  Her silky black hair was put up in a sloppy, half-assed ponytail with two escaping locks that ran down to her small chin, outlining her heart-shaped face.  Through the dense musk of freshly shaven pubis, un-flushed toilets, and vomit that was a few days too ripe, her bright emerald eyes pierced his mind like an arrow.  Not a pussy arrow like the kind Cupid shoots, with hearts as the arrowhead and glimmering unicorn feathers as the tail, but an arrow with a stone head dipped in feces and a tail made with hair from scalped Nazis.  Removal of this arrow would cause an even larger wound, but leaving it in would start an infection.

“Fuck you Charlie.  How do you not know my name?  I even put it in your phone.”

            “I’m sorry I jus—“ 

            “You just what?  I’ve got a sheet full of more than enough of your DNA to tell your life story, and you can’t even remember my name.  I don’t know how I’ll ever forget yours.”

            “I, I uhh—“

“Why couldn’t you have told me you came?  I would have rather it been in my mouth than on my sheets.”           

            “Wait…?! What?” said Charlie.

            “Yea, if you had just told me you were going to come.  But you blew a fucking load in my bed.  So here, wash this and give it back to me.  Actually, I don’t give a fuck what you do with it, don’t talk to me again.”

 She threw the sheet over Charlie and left him in the bathroom.  The dense musk gathered under the sheet and surrounded Charlie’s head like a Dutch oven.  Charlie realized that this girl was the best thing he’d had so far, and he fucked up it.  He pulled off the sheet and looked at himself in the mirror unable to see the arrow sticking out of his head, the one with Nazi hair. 

“Fuck… Wow.” He said to himself.  He took a long breath and went back to his room with the sheet.

Darrell was already in bed, his massive body looked funny in the normal bed. His limbs protruded from each side of the blanket making it difficult for Charlie to climb up to the top bunk. 

“Ayo c’cmon” mumbled Darrell into his pillow as Charlie clambered into bed

“My fault dude.”

They two laid in silence for the next five minutes, Darrell tried to sleep, Charlie tried to make sense of what had just happened, still unable to take his mind of her.  He checked his phone for her name…

“Lauren Price” he said aloud

“Ergh, yea what?  Is that that bitch from last night?” grunted Darrell as he rolled over to face the top bunk.

“Yea man, but she isn’t a bitch.  I mean she was to me just now, but that’s because I fucked up her sheets.  Dude I don’t know what to do.”

“Bout what?”

“This girl man.  She got me tweakin.”

“Awe shit, is Charlie sprung on a bitch?”

“Dude yea, I think I dunno, I don’t understand, last night I didn’t give a fuck about her, one way or the other, I was just all about getting a nut.  I probably would have gotten more intimate with a hole in the wall, but I don’t get it.  I can’t get her out of my head.”  The infection was beginning to spread. 

“Tell ‘er.  Write that bitch a poem or something, hoes love that, if you tryina marry ‘em or some shit.”

“Yea? You think so?  I’m ok at poetry, it’s the effort that counts anyway.  I’ll give it a shot.” 

“Yeuh, either that, or we could Ying-Yang this bitch?”

“Yea but she isn’t just a bitch dude, I think I like her, Ying-Yanging is for hoes, sluts, bitches, and cunts, but for a lady, I think you have to love her”

“Damn you talking that Grendel mama booty breath, don’t be speakin that soft shit.”

“Whatever bra. I like this girl.  She ain’t no uptight bitch either.  I mean I thought about it, and I sometimes can’t even nut when I’m getting dat brain, I mean I nut if its crucial neck, but if its your average run of the mill head, then sometimes I don’t come.  Point is, this girl busted my nut from a hand job, granted I did most of the work, but I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.  I mean that’s pretty amazing.  Plus when we were arguing in the bathroom she told me she woulda just let me bust in her mouth if I told her I was gonna come, instead of going covert ops and bustin a stealthy nut in her sheets.”

“O shit… Dirty girl huh?  You might gotta lock this one down Charlie.”

“I know dude that’s why I’m tweakin, I actually looked at her in the bathroom and she is fucking gorgeous, like long-term pretty.  She had no make-up on dude and like I dunno, she was just amazing.  Like I could see myself waking up next to her and looking at her, and wanting to kiss her cause she so damn pretty.  I don’t know how I missed it the first time.  It’s so strange, this girl makes me wanna do nice things for her.  It feels weird to call her a bitch, like its an insult or something.  I feel like she is above that.”

“Damn, she got you good.  Never thought I’d hear this from Charlie but if dats how you feel then you gotta lock this joint up.”

“Word?”

“Ross.” Confirmed Darrell followed by a tired laugh indicating that he was going to sleep.

Charlie lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about Lauren for several hours until he finally decided what to do.  He crept down from his bed and grabbed the jiz sheet.  He took a black marker and a pair of scissors from his desk and went into the common room to begin working.  He took the marker and drew in big bold letters, going over each twice:

Lauren it’s Charlie and I’m really sorry

I feel so bad, inside I bleed

I deserve to be reincarnated as an anal bead.

Owned by a fat transvestite with a dick bigger than mine

I deserve to be stuck in his/her ass all the time

I just wanted to bust a nut because I thought you were just a slut

But you’re not a whore as I hath swore,

And now I know your not a ho

Forgive me please and take me back

I love your face I love your rack

I love the way your smile you crack

Girl…No…LAUREN because that’s your name

I just call you girl because you’re mine to claim

Never did I notice how beautiful you were, how gorgeous you are

Your green eyes are more luminous than Sirius, the brightest star

But Lauren listen its not about the way you look

It’s about the way that you’ve got me shook

I’m stuck, and shit out of luck

I’ll date you and I’ll even wait to fuck

I’ll wait for you as long as you like

Cause when I feel wrong, thinking about you makes me feel right

I don’t know much, but I do know this

If I can’t have you my heart will fall into the lover’s abyss

Part of the ship, part of the crew

Lauren I’d cut my heart out for you.

Charlie read it over to himself, put down the marker, and picked up the scissors.  He cut out the poem from the center of sheet.  It was about a foot and a half from the point to the ass, the jiz stain ran diagonally across the center.  For a few seconds Charlie held up the heart and admired his work the same way he admired his pubic masterpiece, the same way he admired Lauren.  He then folded the heart several times and placed it in his back pocket.  Leaving the scissors, marker, and sheet clippings strayed about the floor—this would be the last mess, hopefully—he grabbed the rest of the sheet and set off to engage his plan.

It was 3:30 and Lauren was probably asleep, but Charlie went anyway.  He arrived at her door and knocked quietly.  No one answered.  He pressed down the handle and opened the door.  The light from the hallway just barely lit the room, but it was enough for Charlie to see where Lauren’s door was.  He took two steps and stopped.  Charlie what the fuck are you doing in this girl’s room at 3:30, not only is it the hour of the devil, but 3:30 is fucking late on a week day, even for college?  I don’t know, shit.  Text her first… no call her…yea call her its that important.

Charlie pulled out his phone and called Lauren.  It rang three times past the ring that he thought was the last, his heart sinking each time.  Finally an answer.  Charlie heard what sounded like an inhale before a sentence and, knowing his time would be short before she hung up, he immediately started speaking, spewing.

“Lauren! Its Charlie, look I know you told me never to talk to you again, and never to look at you again, or think about you but I—“

“I’m not here right now, just leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, thanks…” recited Lauren’s voicemail.  The second between the end of her voice and the beep Charlie felt something he hadn’t felt since the day in middle school that he had tried so hard to erase.  His cheeks burned red with the blood that normally fueled his boners because for the past few hours he’d been thinking not with his cock, but with his brain.  Even his body had reacted to his feelings about Lauren in the short time since she had mind-fucked him in the bathroom. 

Charlie flipped his phone closed after the beep.  Shit, I can’t go in her room that’s creepy as fuck.  Defeated and demoralized, Charlie trudged back to his room dragging the sheet on the floor.  When he got back to his room he saw the mess he had made and his first thought was to just kick the shit under the futon, but something made him do otherwise.  He threw all the sheet clippings away, he put the scissors and marker in his desk, and then he laid on the futon and tried to think but his brain could do no more.  It was like doing a physical activity for the first time, using muscles you’ve never used before.  Charlie’s brain was sore, and it needed to rest.  He turned on his side because the back of his head hurt.  It was probably the emotional center of his brain shitting a brick.  Charlie had a love concussion. His body followed suit shortly after and he fell into a deep slumber.

“Yo wake the fuck up ‘B’.” Said Darrell and he threw Charlie’s practice jersey and shorts which landed on the edge of the futon by Charlie. 

“What time is it?”

“Three bitch we gotta go to practice in thirty minutes.”

“Fuck” Charlie groaned as he sat up, struggling to move his stiff body. “My phone must’ve died.” 

It took Charlie a few minutes to get moving, but eventually he put his phone on the charger and got dressed for practice.  He had missed all his classes and would’ve missed basketball practice if it weren’t for Darrell who had also missed all of his classes as well.  However normal it was for Darrell to sleep through all his classes, it was very strange for Charlie.  Those years of self-imposed solitude after his incident in middle school had gotten him in a routine of always going to class.  He never skipped class in high school except for the one time with Marisa.  He hadn’t missed class all semester.  Charlie quickly realized that it was different for Darrell.  He was on scholarship and didn’t give two and a quarter shits about school.  If he dropped out, or flunked out, or even Ying-Yanged his way out, he could probably make it to the NBA.  Darrell was a basketball phenomenon from Queens, New York. His mom claimed that Wilt Chamberlain was the father, but Charlie secretly hypothesized that in truth she had managed to copulate and conceive with an actual basketball.  Darrell grew up playing basketball at Clinton Park, which was right across the corner from where he used to hustle (trap, sell, slang, deal, etc).  That was before he got into a private high school that was willing to pay for him to go there.  Darrell learned how much he could get away with almost as quickly as he earned a starting varsity spot.  And the two were directly related and exponentially increasing; the better he did in basketball, the more he could get away with.  In his freshman year, when Lebron James was a senior, Darrell dribbled the ball on a fast break to the other side of the court.  LeBron was the only opposition in his way.  Darrell jumped from a foot behind the free throw line and dunked so hard that the sound knocked LeBron, one referee, two cameramen, and the first row of the hoop side crowd unconscious.  The rest is history. 

He could have joined the NBA out of high school, but he had good enough grades and unbelievable athletics, so he went to college convincing his mom that he wanted to get a degree.  But he really went to college because he wanted to party and have as much sex as possible without ending up like Kobe.  The way he saw it he had four years before every girl you fuck tries to suck you dry and claim that you raped them.  His success in high school had spoiled him so much that he traded instant fortune and even more fame, for a few years of partying.  Most people have dreams, some of them want to become NBA players or professional athletes, but Darrell, who lived other peoples’ dream, wanted something different, he dreamt of the Ying-Yang.  Charlie was no slouch though.  He was exceptionally athletic and had tremendous grades, but compared to Darrel, he was a puny mortal.

Practice was the same as usual, Darrell dunked on everyone.  After practice, when everyone was changing, Darrell told Charlie to show everyone his pubic Mona Lisa.

“Hey ya, check dis crazy shit.  Charlie show ‘em dat jun.”

Charlie pulled down his compression shorts and unveiled the magnum opus that ought be draped dangling in the Louvre down over of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Madonna of the Rocks.  Everyone asked what the inspiration was, and Charlie told them, one thing led to another, and several minutes later, the entire team knew the meaning of Charlie’s artistic unleashing and the sexual escapade behind it.  Charlie told the story as vividly as he could for the sake of hilarity, but he left out the girl’s name, and he refused to reveal it.  Charlie left practice with his hand sore from being dapped up so many times.  He had learned to conceal the soft, love-struck nerd around certain people.  He was close with the team, but feelings aren’t something anyone wants to hear about after two hours of maximum testosterone flow.  Everyone wants to hear about pussy, and cars, and weed, and drinking i.e. everything that drives the hip hop industry.  At this point, the only person who knew of Charlie’s feelings was Darrell, and possibly Lauren if she could tell from the way he drooled and fumbled all over himself in the bathroom the previous day.

The first thing Charlie did when he got back to his room was check his phone.  There were two messages from his mom, and a message from Lauren.  Mom could wait.  The text from Lauren read

“wat do u want?”

You.  I want you.  Charlie thought, but it wasn’t the right time to tell her.  It had to be face to face.  Charlie texted her back

“hey look we need to talk, well, u don’t have to talk, but i need to say something to u.”  Charlie set his phone down on his desk and went to turn on the Xbox.  Owning noobs always made Charlie feel better.  Nothing made him feel better than popping off four shots of cold, electronic, cyber .44 caliber rounds at a helpless noob trying to shoot him with the shotgun from thirty feet away.

But before the Charlie had even signed GammaZord into Xbox live, his phone beeped.  Lauren responded much faster than Charlie expected.

“W/e you have to say you can say it now.”

“no. i need to talk to you in person, when do u have time?”  replied Charlie.  Lauren’s text came with the same haste as before.  Charlie didn’t know her well enough to verify if she was a phone fiend or not, but the time he had spent with her, he had not seen her use her phone, or even seen her phone.  Either way, whether she texted everyone back in five seconds, or if she was secretly just as anxious to see Charlie as he was, perhaps for different reasons than Charlie: more abuse, more leading Charlie on, killing him…maybe?  Whatever the case, Charlie took it as a positive and his confidence was boosted with another rapid rebuttal.

“fine… im not doin ne thing right now. in my room and im not leaving so if u really wanna talk, u gotta come here.”

Fuck yes! Initiate operation Win Back Tits McGhee. 

“k.  ill be over in a sec.”

Charlie grabbed his Operation Win Back Tits McGhee supplies (the heart poem and the bed sheet he cut it out of), and rushed over to Lauren’s.

Charlie knocked on the door. 

“Come in.”  said a voice that sounded like Lauren.  Charlie unlatched the door and held it barely open with his foot.  He took the sheet by two corners and held them up to the top of the door frame so that the sheet covered the doorway.  He kicked the door off his foot.  He looked through the heart shaped hole.  Charlie saw two figures locking lips in the straddle position.  One was a girl and the other was a boy.  The girl faced Charlie, the boy faced away.  Lauren looked at Charlie’s face through the heart shaped hole and cracked a smile.  A blind rage took over Charlie.  He ripped the sheet in half and stormed into the room.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said to the back of the boy’s head.  The boy turned his head around.

“Who… ma… me?” he stuttered.  The boy looked helpless and terrified. 

“Yea. Who the fuck are you?” Charlie repeated as he inched closer to the boy.

“I’m Ari.” Lauren got up from Ari’s lap and wiped her lips, sensing that things could get bad, and if they did, she certainly had the good sense not to get into the middle of it.

“Ari what?” demanded Charlie

“Ari Reuvenstein-schlotz-Goldsilvermanburg.”

“Wow what the fuck?”  Charlie’s head filled with thoughts of picking up Ari and snapping him in half, or ripping Ari’s spine out through his ass and then beating Lauren to death with it, but Charlie knew he couldn’t hit this kid.  He couldn’t hit a skinny Jewish boy by the name of Ari Reuvenstein-schlotz-Goldsilvermanburg who had probably gotten into this school based on grades alone, which was nearly impossible unless you were Mr. Manhattan and could control space and time.  Charlie probably would have stole Ari across the jaw but the last time he hurt a Jewish boy Charlie’s family lost a lot of money.  He tackled some kid a little to hard in a game of Smear the Queer.  The army of reputable lawyers that slaughtered Charlie’s family in the courtroom were so good that had they been on the OJ Simpson case, he might have been found guilty.  Think of all the gang members in MS13, the Crips, and the Bloods put together.  Now turn them all into lawyers, and change their guns into briefcases, half full of paperwork allocating the payment of medical bills on behalf of Charlie’s family, and the other half full of gold.  So Charlie was very careful about battling with the Jews.  Charlie thought Ari looked like the illegitimate butt baby of Eugene Levy and Ben Stein, a clear indication of the lawsuits to come should he choose to break Ari’s jaw.

  He turned his attention to Lauren. 

“You’re a bitch.  I came here to apologize. And this is what you did?  You knew I was coming so you called this pussy over here to make out with in front of me”

“Yep.  Fuck you Charlie” Lauren said with another smile. 

“I even wrote you this poem.  I stayed up all last night writing it and cutting it out of the sheet.”

“And you thought I would give a shit?”

“Unfortunately.”  Charlie said as he exhaled the breath he had been holding since he opened the door.  His anger transformed into despair.  His boner blood was called into action and rushed to his throat forming a lump, which swallowed tears could accumulate on.  They would be suppressed and stored on this lump until later when he could regurgitate them in private.

“Well let me read it.” Said Lauren

Charlie looked down at the doorjamb quickly, then back to Lauren.

“Haha get the fuck out of here… It’s way too nice, and obviously all wrong, because most of it is about how I came to the realization that you weren’t just another conniving slut.  But you are clearly the nastiest of harlots that I have encountered thus far.  So fuck you, I should have busted that nut in your eye so that you’d have to wear an eye patch and everyone could see you for the dirty pirate hooker you are.  I hope you choke and die on Ari’s yarmulke.”  Charlie gave Lauren the finger and the turned to Ari.

“Hey dude, I’m sorry bra, you didn’t do anything wrong, if I were you I would get away from this nasty slut before you catch some next-gen STD.  When me and her hooked up, I saw a centipede crawl out of her vagina, I didn’t wanna say anything at the time, but you should know its not safe in there.  Anyway peace dude.”

Charlie left the room and walked with his fists, ass cheeks, and jaw clenched back to his place.  When he got back in his room he realized that he didn’t have the poem. 

Shit ass fuck cock balls dick pussy ass whore.  Where the fuck is it?  I must have dropped it when I walked in the room.  This was the fermented piss sauce to top of his shit sandwich.  He knew he couldn’t go back.  He knew Lauren would go as far as she could with that poem.  She would make his life as miserable as she could.  He looked at the window and a four-story fall seemed like a vacation compared to where he was now. 

Kill yourself over a bitch you just met.  Fuck that Charlie.  You would go down in history as the biggest pussy to ever walk the earth.

A sound of hope interrupted Charlie’s downward spiral.  His phone beeped indicating a text message.  It was a message from Lauren.

“check ur facebook…ahahahaha”

In less than the time it took Charlie to get back to his room Lauren had managed to scan and crop the entire heart poem into her computer and post it on facebook.  The tears were now ready to be released but they did exactly the opposite.  They continued to gather on the lump in his throat, solidifying into a fuse that led up to his brain, which had grown more and more infected by the Nazi arrow that was lodged in his mind.  He could feel the arrow now.  He was previously numb to the pain, blinded by the illusion of Lauren, but now the pain raged in his head, as he could see clearly now who she really was.

Charlie knew now that leaving the arrow would only make the infection spread just like it had with Marisa.  He knew that he would keep coming back no matter what, only to keep being let down.  The arrow had to go, and Charlie knew that the only way was with a cranial explosion.  He had the fuse and the bomb–all he needed was a spark.  Charlie pulled up his facebook page and read the poem and the first few comments on it.  That’s all it took.  The explosion in his brain forced the arrow out, if it was a lame ass cupid arrow, it might have come out with minimal damage, but the backwards facing hooks and the jagged edges of the stone tipped arrow ripped out every feeling that Charlie had.  He had given himself an emotional lobotomy.  Instead of going down in history as the biggest pussy ever, he was remembered as the first zombie.