humor

I love this stuff. God it is so good!
I don’t even have to knock on wood.
I get the same thing,
Each time that bell rings.
I wish this place looked like it should.

(This is the second installment of a story I may never finish. I realize that it has pretty much the same plot as the Big Lebowski so far. I'm trying to figure out how to remedy that.)

Danny got kicked out of the Starbucks without his coffee. Joshua followed him outside. A tap on the shoulder brought Danny whipping around to face Joshua.
“And what the fuck do you want?” he demanded. “Oh, it’s just you Josh. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Danny I really need to talk to you…”
“Walk with me.” Danny took Joshua’s coffee and began walking up the street. Joshua followed obediently.
“It’s just that… I got beaten up by this big Hispanic guy who wanted money from me on behalf of some guy names Big Louie. I was wondering if you knew about this guy.”
“Why should I know anything about him?”
“You’re kind of a criminal, aren’t you?”

(This is kind of my return to writing. I was in a play, and my brain didn't really want to write. That might have been a good thing, because I didn't have too much time for it anyway.
In any case, I now have tons of ideas. I just started writing, and I'm going to see where this story takes me. I don't have any plan of attack.

Quick Edit: This particular piece is rather vulgar, so now you can't say I didn't warn you.)

There were two people in the small, green and white apartment. One was in pain. The other was inflicting the pain. The person in pain was a young white man with short dark hair, white collar work cloths on, and a large, throbbing spot of red on his forehead. His name was Joshua Dickenson. The person inflicting the pain was a big, heavyset Hispanic man in a basketball jersey. His name is unimportant.

Part IV

Third Chapter

After lunch I had a few minutes to look over where I would be sleeping. It was, of course, another painful reminder that I was in Hell. The room was about fifty feet across and extended out of sight. Each wall was lined with bunk beds that were only spaced a couple feet apart. Another depressing detail was that there were no mattresses on the bed boards and the pillows were blocks of wood. I also noted that there were doors spaced every few hundred feet down the dorm. I groaned. I’d never sleep at all in conditions like this.

Legs jogging,
Arm pits sweating,
Fidgeting with a pencil,
Just sitting
And waiting
Trying to listen to the teacher
But just can’t
Because I’m to excited five minutes and I’m out of here
Well at least for thirty minutes
But still it’s better than being cooped up in this jail you call school
For five days of every week
Until I’m twenty one (so not cool).

The Fifth Grade Farmer of Fairfield Vermont
Michaela Lombard
5th grade 2007-2008
Mrs. Howrigan

1) you use a no trespassing sign as a cooking griddle
2) you give your wife a gun for her wedding present
3) you use a tire to start a fire
4) you date your cousin
5) you can burp and swear at the same time
6) you name your kid after a cow
7) all you watch is CMT
8) all you want in life is a beer and to see something naked
9) you got a close relative named “bubba”

By Skyler Edwards
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 11

He wonders whether he turned off the microwave
When he knows he did not use it today.
He wonders if he shut the bedroom windows
When he can see them from his car window.
He wonders if he let the dog out
When he knows the dog is in the back seat pouting.
In reverse and pulling out,