Thursday, May 28, 2009

The last post and this one were posted by Zarieck. I don't want Rena stealing my thunder... or my camero.
now that its summer, I get to post stuff. yep. its zarieck time. and my first post will be about books I want to read this summer.

1. "Anybody can be cool...but Awesome takes practice"
2. "Better never to have been: The harm of coming into existence"
3. "Cheese problems solved"
4. "Cooking with Pooh: Yummy Tummy Cookie Cutter Treats"

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

"We Don't Need No Education"

Alas, school is near the end, and therefore my constant use of the Internet will become my rare use of the Internet. (I know, I don't have it at home like a freak of nature. I'm poor. sue me. Actually, don't. I couldn't afford legal costs.) I may not post much for the next few months, but here's a list of things that I would likely blog about in my absence.
1. How cool was that movie that came out and was supposed to be a blockbuster and deserved it. ya know?
2. I can't wait for our house to be done already! I'm drowning here, Summers.
3. Gavin/Elayna did the funniest thing or said the funniest thing about the thing with the thing. Had to be there I guess.
4. Yeah, I moved into the house! It's awesome! and small...
5. I think we need a bigger house.
6. I wish we had a fence so Gavin would quit running out into the street.
7. I wish we had a lawn so we could play football and soccer with the littuns.
8. I read the best book by Christopher Moore called Fool. It's a spoof on one of Shakespeare's plays and so so so funny.
9. Crap. I have to start school again next week. ughhhh.
10. Well, I'm back again.

Hopefully this will tide you over for the few months that I will be hanging with the family. If it doesn't, then hey, guess what? There's still an invention called a Phone. I know it sounds antiquated, but I swear, it's so nifty. There's buttons and a voice at the other end. You should check it out.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


Since when did bureaucracy have to infiltrate every facet of my life?

I want to order books for my classroom.
I want to teach my students how to fraking read so they can be successful in life.
I want to move into my house this millennium.
I want to upgrade my lane change so I can get paid more and afford my new house.

Let's just say I'm feeling a kinship to postal workers right now.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Chapter 2: Gravy Eyes

Mrs. Taylor’s level figure stared up at him. The once Kryptonite marbles, subject to that teacher stare—the kind that could halt a student in mid-sentence—were now stiff, glossy, like the film on standing gravy. Unnerving in life and in death. He walked forward, dragging his shoes on the carpet in short strides.
“Mrs. Taylor?”
No response.
He nudged her ribs with his shoe, but she didn’t move. He half expected, hoped, she’d smile, laugh, and crack a cruel joke. And then with lively dedication, morph the situation into some kind of teaching lesson. Saying, “Don’t commit suicide or you’ll do the same thing to your family.” Instead her body lay still, limp.
Next to her leg an open EXPO leaked a quarter-sized blue blotch onto her khaki skirt. Corey glanced at the board. It appeared that Mrs. Taylor had been in the middle of the word: onomatopoeia. Instead it read, onomato and half of the p. Out of some primal duty and respect for the dead, he knew he couldn’t let the marker continue to leak all over her dress. Corey snatched the marker up, searched for the cap, and discovered it wedged between Mrs. Taylor’s forefinger and thumb. Tainted by every scary or suspense movie made, Corey abandoned the idea of taking the cap from her hand, for fear that her body would rise, hauntingly animated, and grasp his forearm during the cap rescue. Then later the zombie teacher would devour his pulsating brain straight out of his severed skull. Swallowing, he set the naked marker on the white board tray; his civic duty or some kind of duty completed.
Corey sucked in a heavy breath through the nose, caught a whiff of something sweet and moldy. Its source momentarily escaped him, but then as realization hit, so did a wave of nausea. The smell of fresh blood was weakening enough, but the acrid smell of gallons of blood souring within a rotting corpse sent Corey sprinting to the wastebasket and puking up his donut breakfast.
Lightheaded and wheezing, Corey leaned against Mrs. Taylor’s vacant desk, terrified of the stench of death. His moist eyes spotted a bottle of apple-scented lotion next to the stapler. He snatched up the bottle, turned to Mrs. Taylor’s corpse, and squirted pump after pump onto her rubber torso, staining her blouse with scattered pink dollops of hand lotion. The entirety of the scene was so revolting and blasphemous that even Poe might have recoiled from it.
He stepped away, shaking. I better get some help, he thought.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Chapter 1: Taught to Death

Corey parked outside the 7-11 and ran in to get some breakfast. At the register he paid $1.12 for two glazed cake donuts, and tried to ignore the echoes of his mother’s morning plea, “You’ll do better on the test if you eat something healthy.” Back in his truck, Corey put the vehicle in reverse, and then stuffed a donut into his mouth. Crumbs and glaze dribbled down his Weezer T-shirt, which he absently brushed off. The song on the radio blared some old-school U2 lyrics, and in between belting along with the chorus, Corey rehearsed the major plot events and metaphors in The Lord of the Flies. By the time he reached the school, the first light of morning peered over the hillside, and Corey was ready for the test.
He parked outside the English wing, grabbed his books, and ran towards the school. At Mrs. Taylor’s room, he swung open the door.
“Hey Mrs. Taylor. I’m ready for—,”
He stopped, his eyes blinking involuntarily. One..two..three blinks. At the front of the room, behind the overhead cart, a pair of stocking clad legs and inexpensive sandals poked out, horizontal and motionless. Deadly motionless.


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