THE PLAYERS:
Glenn
Nikolai
Whorianne
 

As I wrote my report, I notices that my cat was prowling
around. I became tense, and shooed him away with my hand, even as
I rolled around in the patch of penicillin in a last-ditch attempt to cure
my herpes. "Mold? That's Icky!" Mrs. Tausig said. "Go meditate!"
So I enclosed myself in a sensory-deprivation
chamber and hummed "Ommmmmygod I have herpes...
what ever shall I do?" Then I had a huge revelation:
A spirit materialized before me, all ghost-like, and said
"Clean up... get to class... do your homework..." as if it were Mr. Ulman
on the loudspeaker at lunch... because it was him. He suggested that
everyone put their heads between their knees and
kiss their asses goodbye. But they couldn't reach that
part of their bodies because they weren't limber enough.
And why was that, m'dear? Simple. They didn't do yoga.
Yoga flame and yoga fire, that is. Haiyuken! Street Fighter action!
"Shut up." "No." And so it went. I could say nothing but that I was
absolutely enraged by the petty semantics issue and
the paltry 3 points it would have bought me.
I had no other choice -- I had to get the hell out of
there. I'm serious. Serious I am. Damn right. Anyway, the beast
was a stupid whore. The beast was Julianne. She met Paul the
other day (the beast, not Julianne). She bit his head off (Julianne, not the
beast). But it grew another one, 5 more. Turns
out it was a hydra. And a muffin. Boy, if
I had a muffin right now, I would have a muffin. Yes.
So that equals the centripetal force. Back to the action! I
-- no, wait, back IN TIME! To Yaffe's class. "Bob, do -- oh God --
you have a  -- yeth, YETH! -- Chemistry de -- degree that -- urgh -- I
don't -- oh, oh God -- know about?" He Bob an
A+, though, but couldn't get into Physics AP because he was too slow.
Slow at being fast, that is! Anyway, I killed him. Angrily.
Then, As I saw his carcass slump to the floor, he didn't
laugh -- because he was dead. So I laughed -- because I was dead. The End.