on 11/11/2003 12:45:00 AM
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You Fall to Hell When Your Wings Are Clipped
Let's just say, that as of this moment, the kid is getting tested.
So September 20th, this kid is anxious for the new year to start. He gets all the books before everyone else. He reads them too just to get up ahead on everyone and gets cocky. Flying high like Zion I wherever the flying fuck he wants.
There he meets Doy, Raniel, and Tristan. They hang out at the boardwalk on boardwalk night so they could get Raniel and Doy some pussy, but Doy gets too drunk, which leads, Raniel, Tristan, and him to take care of the guy. Wasted night.
Classes start. The literature teacher tells the kid that there will be a quiz every day. The quiz seems a little hard. Throws a little screw in the kid's plans, but whatever. (It turns out he does well on the quiz anyway.) Then there's that anthro class. How boring can it get when people are walking out by the second day of classes ? No biggie. And that African Women class, such sticklers for attendance. Again, no biggie.
The kid is still flying high like Zion I wherever the flying fuck he wants.
He sends his resume online for jobs on campus. One reply ! Student Corps ? Oh wow, he's always wanted to work for student corps !
And what do you know they hired him on the spot after saying he'd work anytime and were throwing a pizza party the next Friday ! Holy shit things are looking up especially from this birds eye view.
But maybe not that anthro class. That boring piece of shit, he should have just done his own work, and now he got a 26/33 thanks to answers from Krats. Also what the hell is up with that African Women class ?
Eh, just keep working kid, stay flying. You'll get thru it no matter what shit weighs down on you. Keep flying high like Zion I wherever the flying fuck you want.
Weekend again. Doy and Raniel get drunk. Kid takes care of them.
Weed the next weekend too with Edwin at a dance. Makes himself like an ass in front of the whole Filipino community on campus.
Fucking Cubs. Fucking Marlins.
Weed again next weekend but only half high.
School gone by, gone by, gone by. Those lit papers are kicking some ass.
But he's got no job. But whoa, a job (because the job requires finding jobs). Kid makes a banner and thinks highly of it. Hahahahahhaahahah good job kid.
Woops, hold on there something's broke. It's just the kid's wings. He can still fly right ? Keep. . .Flying. . .High. . .Like. . .Zion. . .I. . .Wherever. . .The. . .Flying. . .Fuck. . .You. . .Want. . .Erm, hopefully. I guess he's more grateful for his legs ?
Bam, bam, "I don't give a shit chu bitch cuz I'm a gangsta fo life !" The kid is still a great baller, and he doesn't need wings for that. Damn he touches rim. A 44 inch vertical I tell ya. So the kid might be flying high like Zion I wherever the fuck he wants after all.
Those fuckers at financial aid keep hassling him. Unfazed, the kid writes the midterm cheat sheet for anthro. But that third paper sucked ass but he worked harder than anyone else. But then again, whatever, the kid's doing fine. Plus, Jario and that Moanna seem like cool company.
An 87 on that Anthro midterm. But some crosseyed bitch makes it sound so easy to get an 'a' and is all happy and cheery about it. Shoot her.
He gives the wrong directions to Doy, and Doy ditches him. Two discussions to attend for that Afro women class. And still has not done that book review or even read that book. Then he has to memorize poems. He's still the dumb one in African women. At least that midterm which will at least sure be graded easily and he'll blow them away. Where the hell does it all end ? Not here. Those wings would've freakin' helped to fly the fuck away from here. The dining hall is shaking and shivering even though its been the same old piece of shit. The kid leaves and bolts his early morning Sunday breakfast earlier than usual to do what ? He's on the verge of something. Heart pounds. Throat gets tight. Knees buckle, but he manages to stand up wrapped up in his blue sweater, to hurry to his room. Kid is alone. The hell does he have ? Phone call from the wing repair service does not give a definite time as to when they'll be repaired. Will they ever ?
Afro women paper is hell. Kid can't find a job. No phone calls from wing repair.
Afro women paper materializes into only a 'B' even though the kid works hardest again. No phone calls from wing repair.
No calls, no calls, no calls, they don't want to call him cause he's just a customer. Can't fly high like Zion I wherever the flying fuck he wants. The kid reads Sobert Rapolsky's Why Ulcers don't Get Zebras and finds that people with no outlets 5x are more likely to die.
So where is the kid going now. . .
Labels: Waxing Floetric