Hand Writing VIII

Melting brain--a physical sensation I experienced after five minutes in my new advisory, which is made up almost entirely of wannabe cheerleaders and football players with about eight brain cells between them. The feeling was akin to having my optic nerve dissolve and drip out my ears. NOT PLEASANT.

Lovetrees--one of those maple trees with two trunks coming from one base, only further up these ones grew back into each other into a single tree, like they couldn’t bear to be apart. Then I looked up further still and found out the tree was dead.

I don’t wanna know the moral of that one.

Beware the Wrath of Zues (pronounced Zoo-EES)--from a misspelling of Zeus on my brother’s friend’s shirt. It was decided that the Wrath of Zues was deadly hunks of swiss cheese falling from the sky.

Damn computer--it doesn't have sound. Then it does, but only to make mysterious "donk" noises when it decides to fail, not actually let me listen to anything. Then it eats my homework, and tells me "This device can perform faster" when all I want is for it to perform at all. But no. Because the computer ate it, too. And then it shuts down completely, reboots of its own accord, freezes my mouse, and kills the internet repeatedly.

It LAUGHS.

Whipped cream--squirted in my hair, on my arm, on other peoples’ arms, on their food, on the ground in smiley-face patterns, and in Gradster’s shoe. And in our mouths. By the way, if you make someone say “fox” when their mouth is full of whipped cream, it goes EVERYWHERE.