I was so intent on staring at Tina Miller, with her blond hair and cheerleader body, that I failed to notice the open locker and I was knocked to the floor.
A mousy girl helped me pick up my books and took me to the nurse to treat the gash on my forehead, and that was how I met your mom.
At 11:59 pm of October 10, she finally hits the submit button for her report, but as she looks at the date she realizes this essay was due on October 10 of last year. Frightened, she blinks, seeing an empty document in her laptop, she begins her essay, again.
“He was a quiet, sensitive boy… who at his high school senior dance was voted the most likeably student ever.” That’s what his obituary read.
I often wonder if those guys on the side of the highway shovelling gravel think about how they fucked up high school.
Or do they just think about all the pussy they got?