A baby gorilla ate my homework
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So, yesterday, I thought I'd be clever and do my homework on 100% biodegradable materials. And it was calculus, so I'm really pissed that it's gone, because it was hard and took me a long time. (In the background, holistic fusion music competes with a gaggle of Canada honkers belting out chop sticks, each only subtly off-tune. The composer, presumably, had an Aleatoric approach in mind, because the lot of us simultaneously experienced Déjà Vu. I was also struck by the idiosyncratic approach toward microtonality, which seemed to encapsulate an amazing average 71 notes per octave. This was about the same time Village Idiocy stocks plummeted, causing a global 2 steps to the left).
So, me mumsy had obtained two baby gorillas in exchange for performance art and some banjo parts, and the little fellows had taken up temporary residence in my closet system. It's one of those integrated jobs, with the little thingies in the footies, and the Ikea-looking wretchedness of... what comes after Postmodernism again? Anyway, that.
From day one, the pair had eaten everything not attached to floor, wall or ceiling. Mumsy was really pissed off because I weaseled my way out of walking the scamps at every opportunity, and so I was feeling a bit conciliatory when I came into the kitchen with my school books. As always, I secured them in an outsized gravy boat and stuffed them behind the au jus refrigerator. Snackies that day would consist of footfruit, deep fried twinkies, gumbo poptarts and apple jack (8% alcohol). Fatefully, I chose to cap the whole thing with whipped cream and frog-shaped lemons. Bad move, as my vagus nerve spontaneously became self-aware and took out patents on every linked list it could compose.
About 5:15, I tackled the calc with the fullest extent of my ninja cheating skills. Combined with near-perfect memory and a sense of smell that would be the envy of Frunobulaxi the world over, I finished in 43 minutes 17 seconds, 2 degrees north of flat. Bonnie Raitt was on the radio again by the time I'd plowed through physics, English as a confusing language, butterfoot applique and Jewish history of taco fixings. Then, on to the interwebs.
?pedia is my witness, if I need to prove that I was here from 8:10pm that Thursday through 9:33am the next morning. When a bevy of Jehovah's Witnesses showed up around midnight, I was as surprised as a burly rodeo clown who suddenly found himself being eaten by bats. Much to my surprise, and somewhat to my chagrin, the pack of them warmly accepted my offer of cocktails and marijuana, which we consumed in the liquor closet behind the 1/3 scale replica of a WWII era howitzer, modified to accept live bat shells.
There was this one big, lanky dude, blonde with a dress and manner that bespoke volumes about his deep level of psychosis. During a lucid moment tilling the sheriff fields, he let slip to me that fettuccine Alfredo would be on the menu at dinner the next day. We split a spliff and spilt a spot of spore vodka down the throats and gullets, allowing for a detour to hearts and minds.
So, getting up this morning, everything was running behind as the zombie woof behind my eyes cast long shadows on society's evils. Calculus was the second class today, at 10:10am. I snort and throttle my way to the front of the classroom, hands acrinkled, stop short less than 8 inches from the professor's twisted, terrified face. He/she (who can tell sex at a time like this?) emitted a short burst of clicking sounds and fell face first into the knot of gentiles.