Welcome To My World, Stranger
Out Of The Cubicle
Anyway, that was how me an Arden became worst enemies.
I believe that it was mostly Mr. P’s fault, and I think that you’d agree, too. I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
I also managed to find out later, that Arden was actually making out with his girlfriend in the bush that I peed in.
Well, you have to admit: he deserved it, that filthy face-eating retard.
I let out a huge sigh and slump against the putrid, graffitied cubicle wall. What a way to spend nearly every lunch and recess time. Not that I have a better way to spend it, as I rarely have anything to eat or any friends to talk to.
I scan the cubicle wall opposite me and begin to read the messages written in permanent marker for the hundred-millionth time:
I love Linda. '07
S.K & D.A 4 eva.
MCR ♪ ♫
I think I’m constipated.
Fuck off, Jimmy.
Mwa ♥ Rex. 2004
♂+♀=‼
I spent my last day of school, here. Miss u all, xo Kenny.
Omfg.
I ♥ H.L
Just as I’m half-way through reading the stupid, pointless messages, the bell rings.
Slowly, I clamber off the toilet, unlock the door and move towards the toilet exit.
I pull a permanent marker from my torn, navy blue pants, and make a mark on the wall between the light-switch and the doorframe.
There are lots of other marks there, too; I count them up:
|||||||||||| ||
If you’re wondering what these marks on the wall mean, (which I’m sure you are, now because I mentioned it) then I’ll tell you; they each represent 1 lunch or recess break that I’ve managed to escape from Arden.
I’m on a lucky streak; but for how long?
Hopefully long enough for me to change my name, be disowned by my parents, rid of all the man-eating plants in schools and move to France.
That’s my goal, anyway.
I slip the marker back in to my pocket, push open the bathroom door and trudge mechanically in the direction of my locker, my head down and my arms crossed across my chest.
I believe that it was mostly Mr. P’s fault, and I think that you’d agree, too. I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
I also managed to find out later, that Arden was actually making out with his girlfriend in the bush that I peed in.
Well, you have to admit: he deserved it, that filthy face-eating retard.
I let out a huge sigh and slump against the putrid, graffitied cubicle wall. What a way to spend nearly every lunch and recess time. Not that I have a better way to spend it, as I rarely have anything to eat or any friends to talk to.
I scan the cubicle wall opposite me and begin to read the messages written in permanent marker for the hundred-millionth time:
I love Linda. '07
S.K & D.A 4 eva.
MCR ♪ ♫
I think I’m constipated.
Fuck off, Jimmy.
Mwa ♥ Rex. 2004
♂+♀=‼
I spent my last day of school, here. Miss u all, xo Kenny.
Omfg.
I ♥ H.L
Just as I’m half-way through reading the stupid, pointless messages, the bell rings.
Slowly, I clamber off the toilet, unlock the door and move towards the toilet exit.
I pull a permanent marker from my torn, navy blue pants, and make a mark on the wall between the light-switch and the doorframe.
There are lots of other marks there, too; I count them up:
|||||||||||| ||
If you’re wondering what these marks on the wall mean, (which I’m sure you are, now because I mentioned it) then I’ll tell you; they each represent 1 lunch or recess break that I’ve managed to escape from Arden.
I’m on a lucky streak; but for how long?
Hopefully long enough for me to change my name, be disowned by my parents, rid of all the man-eating plants in schools and move to France.
That’s my goal, anyway.
I slip the marker back in to my pocket, push open the bathroom door and trudge mechanically in the direction of my locker, my head down and my arms crossed across my chest.