2
"Woo hoo!!" Edward Rutledge sprawled himself onto a desk and began what the entire biology class knew as his 'victory dance'. "I've done it! I am the lead in the school musical! Is it really any wonder why they picked me? Just look at me! I'M BEAUTIFUL!" John Adams glanced up at this strutting peacock with disgust.
"Oh, why don't you just admit it, John Adams?! You think I'm gorgeous!"
A brief pause. "I think nothing of the kind."
"Oh yes you do! How else would I have nailed that audition? Being my partner in English class should have been enough to teach you that I'm not much of an actor... or a speaker... or... the least bit literate."
"All right, Edward... I will admit that never in my life have I ever seen anyone destroy Hamlet quite as well as you did."
"Ah ha! I knew I could get you to acknowledge my physical BRILLIANCE!"
This 'brilliant' little scene would have probably gone on quite a bit longer, but just as John Adams was about to deny saying anything of the kind, the sound of heaving and choking came from the other side of the lab.
"Help! Someone!" Thomas Jefferson cried out. "Richard Lee stuffed too many dead frogs in his mouth again!" Without hesitation, Ben Franklin ran to Richard's assistance and after a few minutes of CPR the half brain dead ninth grader was revived.
"Gee Golly Wiz! That's gotta be a new record, Tom! Fifteen fogs! FIFTEEN! Maybe that will get me into the Guinness Book of World Records!"
"Of course it will, you moron," John Adams thought to himself. "No one else would ever do something that stupid or nauseating."
"I bet you're all feeling pretty stupid now," Richard exclaimed, rising flamboyantly. "You all told me I couldn't do it. That I should just give up. Well look who the losers are now!" The room became dead silent. All of a sudden, Richard became a little dizzy and began to sway.
"Don't mind me," he chuckled. "It just the formaldehyde. It makes me a little woozy! I'll be better by tomorrow morning... I just hope I don't have convulsions again like LAST time!"
"Maybe someone should take him to the nurse," James Wilson quietly suggested to his friend, John Dickinson, who was standing by him.
"No, let's not. He's just going to do it again. Maybe if he dies of formaldehyde poisoning, we'll get his high tech Bunsen burner," Dickinson whispered. James Wilson sniggered at the thought.
John Adams, who originally had been genuinely concerned over Lee's health (both physical and mental) now felt absolutely no obligation to help such a big idiot. "The best thing they could do would be to lock him up and put him in a straight jacket," he thought to himself. He grinned deviously at the idea.
