Great Big Giant Fishsticks

Oh to miss them so!

Giant fishsticks. Now that's something that was done right. Fish, in the shape of sticks. Who would've thought?

As they ascend higher,

Abscond they from the rules.

The lot of them are liars

The rest of them are fools

Five stages of Orgodeath

Five stages of Orgodeath

Which varies slightly from the Kübler-Ross five stages of death.

Denial – “I got X (where X < 60)  marks for Orgo! I’m awesome!” *huge grin*

“Wait, that can’t be right. I’m sure I’ve studied and did my part well. It must be a glitch in the system."

Anger – “OMGWTFBBQ???!!! What kind of stupid question is this? What the heck are they asking? Why the hell did they mark me wrong for this?”

Depression – “I h8 you werl O orgo whaii whaii mai brain melts outta mai ear arrrgh”

Bargaining – “Goddammit, they counted my points wrong. I’m so sending this for regarding.”

Acceptance – “O SHIT! ORGO TEST 3 IN ONE WEEK! Meh.”

Right Ear Aching

There is an

Ache

In my

Ear

And I will Google it

To see

Whether

There is something wrong

Or maybe it’s the itch

Which

I thought

Wasn’t real

Back now

For I have

Disregarded

It

It wants

Revenge

They're Lining Up at the Bus Stop

One hero said to another, “Which route are you taking?” The hero who knows his trade will know what the other is talking about.

At the bus station of all heroes, all heroes set out to trod their paths and plot their courses – in that order – though usually there was no use in watching* the maps and schedules because they’d end up one way or the other in some situation. It’s in the roads.

There used to be a time when there was just the path, that many paths that were already there and the hero/es set forth to their adventure. Those were the first heroes, the founding fathers, or maybe mothers, though maybe he or she was just one person, masquerading as many others.

Then there were more, and wider roads, and perhaps a dirt path or two winding away into the woods; a scenic route that brought you back to your tarmac and deliver you (safely) to your destination. The self-serving hero might bring the odd horse or two, but all that did was muck up the roads.

Roads were there because of cars, but sometimes the car came first.

There were too many cars to carry all of the heroes, so they had trains, taxis, busses, though it was high time they’d gotten a ferry or a jet-plane. The busloads of heroes are carted every day to their destination, taking the same road over and over again.

-------

* I know, not the right word, but it's intentional.

Short

I am embarrassed by the essay I just wrote. It's shoddy and terrible and full of holes. But being a bitter child that I am I don't really care. It pisses me off just to write the dang thing. When had I ever hated writing something for English so much?

Probably once or twice, or three times, if you will. It's sad and disappointing, but it's close to four and I want to sink into slumber and dream and get away from all the silly things.

But I'm not tired. I'd like to read something, draw something, learn something new. But I have to sleep to keep up with the annoying workload, and do some social things I have committed myself to.

Itch

There is an itch
In my ear
That won't go away
I fear that it's becoming a routine
This itch
Is a bitch
And I know it's not real
Because it's really
An irritation
At you
While I could while my time
Away, it's fine
Or better
If I wrote my essay
Instead of describing
Antagonizing
And aggravating
This itch I have
At you