Joan was walking down the hall, when all of a sudden she bumped into Adam. "Hi." She said. "What're you doing? We're supposed to be in class." But he just looked at her blankly. What was his problem? "Joan, Adam. Get to class on time. That's your assignment for today." Oh, that was God. but what was he doing talking to Adam? Suddenly, she saw an image that had haunted her dreams, an image that would never leave her: Her, smashing the "Thing Made Out of Stuff," but for once she was watching from Adam's point of view. He winced every time the chair hit the sculpture, as if she was destroying Adam himself. He saw her crying, but he didn't care. Why?. Why?. Joan Girardi sat bolt upright. "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" screamed her alarm clock. "Ugghh.." She said as she tried switching it off, but only succeeded in switching it to 'music' mode. About to turn it off completely, her hand stopped in mid air as she heard, "And here we are with Joan Girardi! Joan, why are you trying to turn me off? Might I remind you that you never told your parents that the reason you failed 8th grade geometry was because you were too busy drooling over Steve Young, the boy who sat next to you?" She resisted the urge to karate-chop the radio. "Must you be so mean?!?!" "I needed your attention. Joan, I'm here to warn you of something: you're about to experience something beyond your imagination, something you've wondered about for a very long time." "Why the heck you keep coming to me for assistance?" "Joan, this is serious. It has to do with Adam." She perked up slightly. "Adam?" "Yes, but we'll discuss that later." "LATER?! You just got my attention!" "Point exactly. But first. GET OUT OF BED! YOU'RE LATE!!" Joan looked at the clock. 7:30. She was supposed to be out of bed by 7:00! "ARRRGHH!!!!!!"

Adam walked up the stairs to school. Of course, he wouldn't be if Joan hadn't smashed his sculpture. "Stop thinking about her." He said quietly, shaking his head. "She isn't worth your time." "Adam Rove?" Adam froze as a strong hand clamped on his shoulder. It was a deeply conditioned reflex that came from being judged so badly by Mr. Price- he was constantly in trouble. He turned around to see an elderly man holding a cane. "Yes?" he asked wondering how the man knew his name. "I need to talk to you." "Sir, I need to get to class- the bell's going to ring any time now." The man leaned forward. "Adam, this is more important than class. Trust me." "Sir-" "Or might I remind you that the reason you call Joan 'Jane' is because that was your mother's middle name?" Adam stood there, his mouth hanging open. "Who are you? And how do you know that?" "I'm God. I know everything."

So, what do you think? Is it OK so far? I'll continue when I get 10 reviews. Flaming idiots-*cough*- I mean, FLAMES are welcome. Just press that pretty purple button down there!!!
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