Another Crummy Day

So hungry, tired, head hurting, wearing uncomfy socks, I ventured to the frigid bus stop.

While i waited for the taker to torment I talked with my friend Chad. We talked about sports, TV, sports, things we did, sports, etc. Then the yellow terror came lumbering down the road as I rattled my brain for a way to do my homework. Not in homeroom, for math teacher was my homeroom teacher. First I had band, which bought no time, then English, which I could sneak nothing under the Watchful eye of Mrs. Owens. So i thought about doing it during lunch, and that was my plan. The bus ride was bumpy and i sat next to a kid who picked his nose non-stop. I really felt like saying, "By golly, it’s green gold!" But i managed to restrain myself. We swerved into the torture chamber some people call a school and I ambled off. I was in no real hurry to get to school. The little enjoyment I had in school was watching the little sixth graders scamper to class. Kind of like mice running from a cat. All worried about getting detentions and ruining their reputation. I wheeled into Mr. Pearson’s homeroom just in time. The bell rang, we said the pledge, I heard a tidbit about saving some fund-raiser and I was out the door at the first chance I got

I really didn’t want to go to band today, for it was the day before our concert. Mr. Sikes would give us an army speech and we would play. Out of all the instruments I picked last year, it was the trombone. I didn’t really resent it, just I HATED practicing after school, and I had no time. As we reviewed our concert songs and preparation I wondered one thing. Why would the hire some that left the army to teach seventh grade band? As i puzzled over this the teacher raised his hands and we played. I don’t know what he was upset about. We had about half of it down. So we missed the coda and all the repeats. There is still room for improvement over the next twenty-four hours. Finally the bell rang and I realized I didn’t want it to. English was my least favorite class regardless of the teacher. And we had a test, which just "slipped" my mind.

On I drudged through the hallways stopping at my locker to get my books. The only cool part about this class was the book we were reading. Call of the Wild by: Jack London. He was a remarkable author who brought sled-dog life to . . . well, life. Plus it was the only book I read in school with killing. As i struggled on making sentences for my vocabulary words, I thought of a topic, The warmonger. The warmonger was a little dude I made up who all his life tried to nuke Colorado into a puddle. Time was running out as I finished the last question. I thought I did pretty well on the test. The rest of the class we read Chapter 3. In which Buck killed the lead dog Spitz. The bell rang and math class came with horror.

Before math class started, we would get into to class, pull out our stuff, and go to lunch. I ate in a portable on A days which was positively lovely. The good table was always full so i sat at the other table. I swung open my math book and began. Nothing could stop me now.