Tuesday, March 24, 2009

33

"SIT UP STRAIGHT, YOU ASSHOLE! TYPE IN THE DARK!"

I totally didn't need to be here.

"AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE, PUT THE GODDAMN OVERALLS AWAY! NO FIELD WORK! NO FIELD WORK! *NO* *FIELD* *WORK*!"

Okay, so by sitting in this class, naked, with the rest of the imbeciles who weren't fast enough to escape the onslaught of the new government's armed forces, staring at my cock, stylus in hand, tablet on desk, learning about the the preamble to the new constitution that *I* fucking wrote. None of the colonels gave a shit; they figured it would boost morale if at least *one* student got an A in the class and wrecked the curve.

So, I did just that. After aceing the mid-term, I quietly packed my things and set fire to them. My roommate, a Mr. Ian Fletch Jennings, set fire to himself as well, hoping I would stay to put him out and apply a salve, but I opted to forage in the wild for food and clothing, and do just that for as many years as it took for the people to overthrow the new regime.

But it never happened. Oh, you can walk down Corridor St. without a weapon and nobody will bother you, but they won't even look at you should you ask for the time. "Time has little meaning here, son," they'd say. "I mean, look at the city hall. It never moves!"

Can't argue with that.

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