The Strange Events That Constitute Thursday

I wish here to somewhat explore the dual effects of self medication on a bipolar personality.

 

            “Are you tired? Did you finish?”

            Waking up to a test you’ve just failed is a most unpleasant experience, especially with the teacher over you.

            “That’s what she said.”

            As I walked towards the office to receive my punishment for insubordination, I began to realize that today was no normal day. Today was the very day where I would be able to exact vengeance, however petty. Today all of the bullshit I had been put through would end, and no, Michael Moore won’t be making a film about it.

            You see, it is only a day such as this that I should be lucky enough to notice the principles cell phone sitting on his desk, with no one in sight. Today I also have a half rolled joint of chronic in my pocket. In truth, there is an immense amount of joy that can be experienced by experienced upon the event that a teacher should answer a stolen cell phone with illicit substances attached. In fact, the ecstasy is so great that it makes you want to suck off the people over at Zigzags for making their papers so sticky. It sure as hell beats the s**t she puts me through every day.

            Ah, and onwards to the boys bathroom, which has been forever immortalized as the center of teenage debauchery by the likes of Alice Cooper. Here I will not only discover the number that I will be calling momentarily, but thank what would and could have proven to be misfortunate, namely the numbing of my mouth due to the slightly harder contents of the paper I stuck to the phone now. In fact, I was rather proud of the big fat one that was about to find its way into the teachers possession.

            Returning to the classroom, I noticed the strange phenomenon that caused the teacher to feel the need to confirm that I had in fact made a visit to the office. This lent me precious few seconds to slip the phone into her purse as I entered. I then walked over to my desk and pretended to be playing pocket pool as I made a call to a certain phone that a certain day had suddenly revolved around.

            She hangs up-the secretary is probably still putting her clothes back on after the best fourty-five seconds she ever spent with the principle-She walks over to her purse on the other side of the room-That secretary must be making sure the horse isn’t injured. Teachers need stimulation too, ya know!-She removes the phone-I’d like to thank the straight-edge kids for informing the local authorities as well as Nokia for the development of the very same camera phone that provides hard evidence to the whole story.

            Truth be told, I don’t give a s**t that my c**t of a teacher knows perfectly well that I am responsible. Angry words? “Sticks and stones you stupid b***h.” Throwing books? “Your just incriminating yourself further.” Being knocked out by a chair that has been hurled in my direction? “Worth it.”

 

            As one may find, awakening to a teacher standing over you is just as bad when you’ve just succeeded as when you’ve just failed. Adding a cop to the whole volatile equation just makes everything considerably worse, especially of when you are unsure of whose being arrested, and why you’re in the nurses office.

            It’s not until now that regret creeps up my spine and around my neck, boring into my throat. Humor should have little to no place in vengeance and recognizing this reminds me of how petty the act truly was. My triumph no longer feeling absolute, there’s only one solution.

            “Bathroom?”

            As I walk across, I silently snatch the first bottle I see, which is filled to the brim with sleeping pills. S**t, a bipolar klepto. That sure does make for a most excellent ending.

            A good kick to the handle should jam the door.

            The way I see it, these pills should put an end to my constant rollercoaster. If I am saved, then they will help me to stop the ride. If they don’t, then I guess I’ll just have to jump off. Either way, I will never throw up again.

Reviews

[J.E. Stroud]

I kind of liked the original ending "I will never throw up again" better, but I can't say why. I think a few sentences need to be clarified, but, as I've said with all of your other stories, I really really like it.