For months I went to school.

People made fun of me, and people were mean to me, and all the seniors and juniors and sophomores and even freshmen looked down on me.

So, one day in June, I walked to school. On the street next to me, I found a knife.

I was confused as to how it was so perfect looking and why it had what looked like a twisted smiley face on the end and was lying in the street, but I didn't question it and ran off to school.

And so, the people made fun of me, and were mean to me, and all the seniors and juniors and sophomores and even freshmen looked down on me.

But this time changed.

I pulled out the knife and grabbed the neck of one girl who always mocked me and tried to make me look stupid in front of her friends.

I took the knife.

I tightened my grip on the twisted smiley handle.

And I plunged it deep into her throat.

Blood pumped out her mouth like a waterfall and she collapsed on the ground, dead.

And it made me laugh.

And I laughed, and laughed, and laughed for what seemed like eons.

I looked around and saw that the room had emptied.

I heard screams from outside and ran to find the people.

They were going to make me laugh, too.

And they did, with their hilarious yelling and screaming for me to stop.

Slice.

There went the head quarterback's leg.

Laugh.

Chop.

Out came the student body president's lungs.

Giggle.

Slash.

Away with the Chess Club captain's brains.

Snicker.

I looked around and laughed like a madman.

And for all intent and purposes, I was one.

I mean, who laughs at fountains of blood?

I fell onto the crimson stained grass of the football field.

The sun was just starting to hide under the clouds.

I looked at my knife and saw that it was no longer perfect.

It was as stained and as dulled as my soul after doing what was done.

And I started to silently cry.

Then, a figure appeared.

He was thin, thin enough that if the mockers of the school were still breathing, they might call him Noodle Boy.

Noodle Boy walked toward me with two antennae of hair slightly covering his tired looking eyes.

Noodle Boy bent over, picked up the stained and dulled knife and spoke a few words.

"Thanks for finding my knife. It's been hell gettin' these little fuckers, since I'm on vacation and all, and I hate to lose them."

I lay on the grass still crying.

Noodle Boy looked at me for a second longer then turned around, walked away, and uttered one last sentence.

"Nice job with the school, by the way."

He walked off the football field and into the busy city.

I stood up, looked side to side, and then walked into the city myself.

The next day, I read a newspaper article on the school incident.

Every student killed.

Teachers too.

A tragedy.

I looked around and laughed like a madman.