Hand Writing III

I honestly hadn't expected to write another one so soon, but my hand's covered with black letters. I figured I'd better get them down before they fade into a messy mass that always looks like the word "particular" badly spelled.

I taste a liquor never brewed--the first line of an Emily Dickinson poem about the intoxicating power of nature. Of course, I in my four-hours-of-sleep-last-night state of mind choose to take it more literally, and had an extended conversation with myself about future alcohol, alcohol that never will exist, and if you can taste or, indeed, consume liquor that hasn't actually been made yet. I finally concluded that it would all make sense if you drank enough.

You killed my monkey!--I kept fighting the urge to say that all day.

Vilesome--another Greenie quote. It was uttered during Geometry, about quadratic equations. Apparently she did not have a pleasant experience with them last year. She still flinches at the word "parabola."

Why do people keep reading my hand?--*Coughimagine* (She managed to decipher it from two desks away. Or one and a half, if you want to be technical. It's still quite a feat.)