According to my friend, I'm very good at it. Note, this is just a story, I really fucking love my life.
I was in the lockeroom. Again. At School. Fuck. I hated my life, and every day was worse than the last. I hated everyone and anyone whould would stop to hear my bitch about them, except my two friends, Abbi and Jordan. This is my life.
Anyways, as I said, I was in the lockeroom with everyone after gym. The goths were slitting their wrists, and I was compelled to join them, but I'm too non-conformist for that. The jocks were whipping eachother with their towels, the douchebags that they were. All the popular and dapper kids were looking obsessivly in the mirror. Faggots. All the norms, the term used for generic conformist souls doomed to become corporate zombies, jumping off a cliff if they were told to. So there I was, with everyone. Biff was walking towards me. Biff, as in, the star quarterback, and if you're the star quarterback, no matter who you were before that, you were dommed to becoming the biggest fucking doucher. So as he walked toward me, I looked to my left and right trying to find an escape route, but none were open. He and all his douche friends were forming a circle around me. All of these 6+ foot douches crowding around me, a little 5 foot 3 shit. And as fast as I could've blinked, the fucker brought a right jab across my jaw, and the next thing I know I was being waterborded with a gym shirt and a sock drenched in somthing far worse than sweat, but I had no idea what the hell it was. Could've been anything. All I do know, is that it tasted worse than shit. I would know what that tastes like to, thanks to Biff. After I nearly drowned on whatever, the gym teacher gave Biff a pat on the back as we walked to our next class, me emersed in some shit. I walked down the hall, the most humiliated fuck that could ever shrill up and die on this earth, which was what I wanted to do right now. At my locker, Abbi was there at her's with Jordan.
"Biff?" She asked
"How'd you know." I said without looking at her, uninthusiasticly. As I went through my lock looking for my Challenge Algebra book, with only the most pathedic fucks had, I ran into a couple of items that went back a while. For one, there was the .22 I bought off Jeremy freshman year, but relized it only had six bullets and took forever to reload so it would be almost useless after I shot six people. Another one was a pill of cyinide, but I pussied out after Abbi and Jordan begged me not to. Then I found a used condom. Biff. That fucking douche. I threw that out of my locker as I found my Challenge Algebra book and went to class. After the bell that signaled school being over rang, I got my backpack out of my locker, went to my fucked up van that my step dad had when he started a doucher band back when he was in high school and it still had the 'Bangers' band logo on it. I went and drived to my step dad's one story house with no basement, prayng to myself becuase there is no God that I get in a crash and die on my way home.
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