*You don't need to bother
I don't need to be..*
It was all just a joke really. Life. How there are almost only two real events in anyones life: their birth and their death. Everything in between is just chicken shit. Why didn't the big all mighty God on his throne throw Harry a bone sometimes? Why did he seem to enjoy throwing knives instead? Harry decided that if God were right in front him at that moment he would probably not hesitate once at gutting him with a dull pencil that was always found somewhere on his desk.
He wasn't really a bad guy. Lauren didn't think so when she was sucking face with him back then. And then there was Ronnie. Why did Ronnie give a fuck? He could never understand that.
Harper was worried. He could see it wirtten all over his face, almost in permanent black marker. But why was everyone so worried? So what, he had a headache, a migraine even. People get them. Harper had probably gotten a few in his day. What else? His class was filled with brainless morons. That was no doubt any less than true.
Harry ducked into one of the student washrooms outside of the administration office and found it empty. Everyone was in classes now, including his class. Oh well, it would only take a minute.
He stepped in front of the tall mirrors, and didn't react to his zombie- like appearance looking back at him, He had seen himself that morining. It wasn't a big surprise.
Digging into his black pants pocket, he pulled out a small canister of pills. Not just any pills, though. 'Magic' pills. The magical pills that could cure anything from a runny nose to a strange fungus on your back.
The pills had been leftover from his stabbing, and he had forgotten how many he was to take to get the 'magic' to work. Harry decided on six, knowing that would do, and dry swallowed them one by one, followed by a small drink of the water straight from the tap.
There. He felt better already. He closed the canister of pills and stuffed them back into his pants pocket, making his way to his awaiting classroom.
-
"Turn to chapter six which is.." Harry leaned over and picked up a book off his desk, then flipped through the pages. "Page 282," he added and his class leafed towards the right page. So far so good. Boy did Harry want to keep his job. He knew he'd have to smarten up and prove himself.
"Hey, that guy's constipated!" a male voice exclaimed from the back and the whole class erupted in laughter as they leaned over their own books. Harry looked down at his book. Okay, so the guy holding the American flag did look constipated, but he decided not to acknowledge the joke, but kept on saying what he was going to say.
Just when he was about to speak, a pain like a lightning bolt struck the side of his head and Harry grimaced, not wanting to show any sort of pain to his students. The pain was different this time. More sharp. Not the usual pain that gnawed and never loosened. This pain was just as he had described it - a lightning bolt to the skull.
"Read the chapter and answer the questions," he told the class before dropped his hard text on the floor, making a few people jump, before exiting to the hallway otuside his classroom.
Harry bent over, hands on his knees, eyes squeezed shut. Another lightning bolt. It felt as though his head would either explode all over the place, or slowly bleed out until he had no head at all.
"Quit it!" he suddenly yelled and grabbed his head. He knew there would have been a point when he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.
Suddenly the pain lifted and an easy fog brushed past his head. Slight dizziness and then an oh so tired feeling. He crumpled to his knees and then fell over, and passed out.
Shock echoed down the hallways and a student that never had anything against Mr. Senate, darted out of the classroom and she knelt by him, one hand on his back.
"Help!!" she screamed down the hallways, "It's Mr. Senate!" she yelled once more and checked his pulse.
"He's dead!" she began to weep over his fallen body, as she said to Harry's other students who were all gathered around the classroom door, their mouths now hanging open in almost disbelief. An older teacher poked her head down the hallway and saw what was going on, and she went to get help.
The canister of pills suddenly rolled from Harry's pocket and it rolled for a bit and then stopped, just like Harry's headache.
'Magic' pills, alright.
I don't need to be..*
It was all just a joke really. Life. How there are almost only two real events in anyones life: their birth and their death. Everything in between is just chicken shit. Why didn't the big all mighty God on his throne throw Harry a bone sometimes? Why did he seem to enjoy throwing knives instead? Harry decided that if God were right in front him at that moment he would probably not hesitate once at gutting him with a dull pencil that was always found somewhere on his desk.
He wasn't really a bad guy. Lauren didn't think so when she was sucking face with him back then. And then there was Ronnie. Why did Ronnie give a fuck? He could never understand that.
Harper was worried. He could see it wirtten all over his face, almost in permanent black marker. But why was everyone so worried? So what, he had a headache, a migraine even. People get them. Harper had probably gotten a few in his day. What else? His class was filled with brainless morons. That was no doubt any less than true.
Harry ducked into one of the student washrooms outside of the administration office and found it empty. Everyone was in classes now, including his class. Oh well, it would only take a minute.
He stepped in front of the tall mirrors, and didn't react to his zombie- like appearance looking back at him, He had seen himself that morining. It wasn't a big surprise.
Digging into his black pants pocket, he pulled out a small canister of pills. Not just any pills, though. 'Magic' pills. The magical pills that could cure anything from a runny nose to a strange fungus on your back.
The pills had been leftover from his stabbing, and he had forgotten how many he was to take to get the 'magic' to work. Harry decided on six, knowing that would do, and dry swallowed them one by one, followed by a small drink of the water straight from the tap.
There. He felt better already. He closed the canister of pills and stuffed them back into his pants pocket, making his way to his awaiting classroom.
-
"Turn to chapter six which is.." Harry leaned over and picked up a book off his desk, then flipped through the pages. "Page 282," he added and his class leafed towards the right page. So far so good. Boy did Harry want to keep his job. He knew he'd have to smarten up and prove himself.
"Hey, that guy's constipated!" a male voice exclaimed from the back and the whole class erupted in laughter as they leaned over their own books. Harry looked down at his book. Okay, so the guy holding the American flag did look constipated, but he decided not to acknowledge the joke, but kept on saying what he was going to say.
Just when he was about to speak, a pain like a lightning bolt struck the side of his head and Harry grimaced, not wanting to show any sort of pain to his students. The pain was different this time. More sharp. Not the usual pain that gnawed and never loosened. This pain was just as he had described it - a lightning bolt to the skull.
"Read the chapter and answer the questions," he told the class before dropped his hard text on the floor, making a few people jump, before exiting to the hallway otuside his classroom.
Harry bent over, hands on his knees, eyes squeezed shut. Another lightning bolt. It felt as though his head would either explode all over the place, or slowly bleed out until he had no head at all.
"Quit it!" he suddenly yelled and grabbed his head. He knew there would have been a point when he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.
Suddenly the pain lifted and an easy fog brushed past his head. Slight dizziness and then an oh so tired feeling. He crumpled to his knees and then fell over, and passed out.
Shock echoed down the hallways and a student that never had anything against Mr. Senate, darted out of the classroom and she knelt by him, one hand on his back.
"Help!!" she screamed down the hallways, "It's Mr. Senate!" she yelled once more and checked his pulse.
"He's dead!" she began to weep over his fallen body, as she said to Harry's other students who were all gathered around the classroom door, their mouths now hanging open in almost disbelief. An older teacher poked her head down the hallway and saw what was going on, and she went to get help.
The canister of pills suddenly rolled from Harry's pocket and it rolled for a bit and then stopped, just like Harry's headache.
'Magic' pills, alright.