We not laugh

Hhhhnnnhhn...

Gllllrrrrrrrrphlllllpbbt jeeernnnKklbtbttttbtbttttt! FFFFfrrrrrjemmn!

Jerrrrrgn, KKklabshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,,,

GOORRRRRRRJJJJJJJn, FFFLOORRRRRRRRJJJJJJn, GEORGE STEPHANOPOULOS!!!

ow!

Don't you hate it when you accidentally hit that little patch of nerves in your elbow that shoots blinding hot pain down the rest of your arm? You know what I'm talking about, right? And all those tiny pins and needles, all that heat, concentrates at the end of your pinky? Yeah. You know it. I call it "fire pinky" because, well, YOUR FUCKING PINKY IS ON FIRE! That's why.

I just hit my fire pinky spot on the edge of my desk. It's still smoldering. It hurt. It hurt like a bitch. A bitch with a knife. A bitch with a knife that's on fire and who is rubbing it up and down my pinky.

Oooowwwwwwww! Nothing hurts worse than that.

Anyway, today went alright, I guess. I mean, a lot of great stuff happened and everything, but I'm still sorta "meh" about the whole day. It's funny how one little thing can totally take the wind out of your sails when everything else is kicking ass. It's like, I don't know, scoring a goal in soccer, taking off your jersey in celebration, getting your collar caught on your chin, tripping, falling, hitting a rock with your elbow and getting fucking FIRE PINKY. And there you are, writhing on the ground with your shirt half way over your head, screaming "owowowowowowowowowOOOWWWWWWW...FIIIIIRE PIIIIIINKYYYYYYYY!!!" in front of everyone.

I mean, that's enough to fuck up almost anyone's day.

So today, in second period, I found out I got an A on my Geometry test. Pretty friggin' great, right? Sure, I'm a good student, but considering that I have absolutely no aptitude for math what-so-EVAR, the day was looking up from the get-go.

Then, in third-period Jazz Choir, I heard from Christina that Emma, this really hot alto in my group, turned two guys down for homecoming because she said she's waiting for someone else to ask her, and I'm pretty sure its me (hopety hope). She's hot, sweet and has a smokin' body. Did I mention she's hot? I've had a crush on her since the 8th grade so going to homecoming with her would be, like, I don't know. Something cliche like a dream come true or some shit. This is really really good news, so I was flying high by the time I got to DBC.

What other schools call PE, my school calls DBC. We don't know why. No one knows what DBC stands for. Dick and Ball Collective? Deflowering Boy Chodes? Dodgeball Builds Character? (I wish I was funnier so I could come up with a good acronym for that.) It's a mystery. Anyway, we were running a 2k race in the gym because it's rainy out today and Jeff was kicking everyone's ass. Jeff is a little, nerdy chinese kid who's really fast. I don't know how he got so fast with those skinny little yellow legs. Maybe he uses his math skills to make himself more aerodynamic or something. Anyway, he had just lapped us all and was about to pass Jordan, who was second by a long shot. As Jeff started passing Jordan, Jordan totally tripped him and Jeff went down hard. We all stopped running when we heard the >SMACK< so it was completely silent when Jeff started crying.

The way Jeff was sobbing uncontrollably, I would have guessed that he got fire pinkied. Instead, he got "let me eat my own scrotum kneed". Yeah. I think you know what that is. It's when you hit that little patch of nerves in your knee that make you want to feel anything else, even the agony of dining on your own sperm purse. We all gathered around Jeff to see if he was OK, when Mr. Antoine, broke through and started yelling at Jeff. He was all, "Come on, Sevilla! Walk it off you pussy! Pain is in your mind! What you got to do is let go of the pain by letting go of your mind! And your problem! Boy! Is that you got too much mind!"

He then looks directly at me and says, "Look at Lanphier, here. (oh look! he's a poet and didn't know it...and an asshole) He's a zombie! He's got no mind! He doesn't feel any pain! Watch! HopTOOKI!" And then he takes out this ninja knife that he keeps in his sweatpants and fucking STABS ME THROUGH THE FUCKING NECK!

I mean...fuck! Through the fucking NECK! It's not as bad as fire pinky but...yeah...it fucking HURTS. Everyone just sort of stood there laughing as I coughed in agony, dust and stuff falling out of the new wound in my FUCKING NECK. I looked up at Jordan and he mouthed the words, "Loo" and "Ser". I could have gone epidemic on their asses, but I just kept my cool.

My fucking NECK!

Then Asstoine finishes with, "See! He's tough! He doesn't even BLEED! Now pick yourself up you smart sissy and be more like mindless, meandering, zombie Lanphier! HaiooROOken!"

And then he exploded a smoke pellet and ran away. And then the bell rang. And we went to lunch.

I don't know. I suppose it's no big deal. It's just...I don't know. Jeff's a nice guy, even though his people dropped the bomb on Pearl Harbor and Jesus forever hates them for it. He still doesn't deserve to be talked to like that. But that's not what's bugging me. It's not even that everyone was laughing at me or that Mr. Fucktoine stabbed me in the FUCKING NECK...and it hurt. It really hurt.

What's bugging me is just that. It did hurt. A lot. And Antoine told everyone that it didn't. I mean, just because I'm different doesn't mean I don't go through all the same shit everyone else goes through. Sure, a stab through the FUCKING NECK would kill most anyone else that isn't a zombie. Yeah, I'm already dead so it's no big deal. But come on! It's not that I don't feel. I do feel. I feel a lot. I was feeling great until you stabbed me through the FUCKING NECK, Antoine, and then told everyone that I don't feel a thing. Now, I just feel...I don't know. A little victimized, I guess.

And you know what? I think that just might hurt worse than fire pinky.

I'm different, but I'm the same. "If you prick us, do we not bleed?" as Shakespeare's Shylock said. (some people say that shylock is talking about the jews in that speech but i disagree. jews aren't that eloquent. and there isn't a single mention of kvelling or gefilte fish in the entire soliloquy) And while I do not bleed, I do feel. So maybe I should instead quoteth, "If you tickle us, do we not laugh?"

And, yes. Yes we do. Especially if it's hot Emma doing the tickling (did i mention she's hot?). I need to go figure out how I'm going to ask her to the dance. It's gotta be good.

Until next time.

grflllllrrrrrrhhhhhnn...