Sullivan came walking around the corner just like "Mr. Cool." He was
strutting worse than that Travolta dude in that disco movie. The one with
that cool light-up floor and a paint store. It was pretty stupid. He looked
like a rooster on LSD. And, of course, running behind him was Wazowski.
"Hey, Wallace, look, Sullivan doesn't have a hall pass! Go bug him for a while why don't ya," I glared dead into Wallace's eyes. Sullivan obviously heard me, because he gave me on of his "What a stupid loser looks." Man, I hated his guts!
As the moronic twosome got closer, and I was handling Wally-boy, Bruce slid into the bathroom. He moved as silently s death and as gracefully as an octopus without legs. He wasn't a chicken or anything. I just knew that Bruce'd had about five sodas before he got on the bus. Normally, Bruce would have stayed their and duked it out with Sullivan and Captain Cyclops.
"Hey Lizard boy!" The walking olive's voice drilled thru my skull and ran all the way down my spine. It was such an obnoxious sound. I didn't know what made it worse, his massive braces, or his tongue piercing. He had a very smug, and very shiny, grin on his face. He had on an aqua blue t-shirt with "Relax" written on it, brown loafers, without socks, and a white linen sports jacket. He was going for the "Miami Vice look." It sucked when HE wore it.
Wazowski's face was covered in zits. He looked like a sausage pizza with one big pepperoni in the middle. Also, back then, he didn't have a contact lens. He wore the biggest glasses on the market. The rim was thicker than my arm. And speaking of thick, the lens was about two and a half inches thick.
Wazowski was such a wanna-be, I was sickening. The only reason he was friends with Sullivan, was because they had been such good buddies in Elementary and Middle School.
While Sullivan kept heading toward me and Wallace, Wazowski walked into the bathroom. I looked at Sullivan with pure hatred. Sullivan was wearing high- top sneakers and a varsity jacket with the number ten on it. It should have had a great big zero on the back of that thing.
Sullivan was on about five foot nine inches, which was only three inches taller than me. He always wore that stupid football jacket and a pair of snake skin boots. I always suspected he wore those boots just to piss me off.
"Do you have a hall pass Mr. Sullivan?" Wallace had already made the decision to let the jock go free. He just had to act like he was doing his job. Damn, the school system is so corrupted. Athletes always got special privileges and free passing grades. It sucked so much.
Sullivan gave Wallace a suave grin and answered, "You already know the answer to that Ingram." He patted Wallace on the shoulder and whispered something into his ear. A few moments later Sullivan noticed I was trying to listen in and he looked at me angrily. "Piss off loser. This isn't any of your business."
I could have come up with better words and phrases than "Piss off" for Sullivan. I had dreams about kicking his ass. And I knew, one day, they'd come true.
"Whatever, dipshit" I mumbled. I figured that this was working fine. I had just gotten out of a hall violation citation, and I already had a plan for Sullivan. Now was not the time to carry it out. It was all about timing and opportunity. Plus, not getting caught was pretty sweet too.
Just then, Bruce walked back out of the bathroom, wiping water off of his hands. He looked even happier than usual, and for good reason. Fallowing him, was Wazowski. He was soaked to the bone and wrapped in toilet paper. Also, the asshole was sporting the largest black eye I've ever seen. It was a refreshing change. Wazowski went from a walking olive, to a walking black eyed pea.
It didn't take long for Sullivan to notice what was going on. He turned around and grabbed Bruce by the neck. If Sullivan thought I was going to watch him pull that, he was just as stupid as his loser old man. I ran up behind him and knock his feet out from under him with my tail.
The second Bruce was free of Sullivan's grip, he punched Wazowski in his eye again and we both went tearing down the hall as fast as we could. After about a minute or so of running, we stopped and looked around.
We stood there trying to catch our breath. I looked over at Bruce and started laughing. Within seconds, he had joined me.
"What happened in there?" I asked.
"That asswipe tried to give me a swirly, so a screwed him up," This was the most heroic thing I'd ever heard.
"Cool," I said. Just then, in the distance we could hear the sound of approaching snake skin boots and the plopping sound of wet loafers.
We were both still standing there in the hallway trying to catch our breath.
"Plan A, or plane B, dude?" Bruce asked, trying to catch his breath.
"B," I huffed out.
I climbed up the wall and punched in one of the ceiling tiles. Bruce fallowed me up. We both climbed into the roofing just as Sullivan and Wazowski came running thru. Being the morons that they are, neither one of them notice the big hole in the roof.
It was pretty bad up in the roof. There were old rusty pipes, and enough just to make mom discouraged. Cob webs stretched from pipe to pipe and wall to wall.
"Hey, Bruce. You wouldn't happen to know which way the snack machines are, would you?"
"Yeah, dude. They're like, back behind us, and a little ways to the left. I think." He slapped a spider crawling up his arm.
"Okay. Then let's get going," Bruce started crawling toward where he said the machines were. "Next Time we go for plan A. There is no way hiding in the girl's room is worse than this."
A few minutes later I was definitely getting bored. It seemed like we had been crawling for hours, and I could have sworn we had past that dead pigeon before.
"Hey Bruce, you wanna' hear a joke?"
"Sure."
"Okay. A nun, a Rabbi, and Susan Scarendon walk into a bar. The nun orders a vodka and tonic, the Rabbi orders a club soda, and Scarendon orders a White Russian. The rabbi looks at the nun and says." Just then the ceiling caved in and we both fell thru. And, of course, we went with it.
I opened my eyes and looked around. We were in a steamy room with a white tile floor, and lockers. There were benches on the floor and some showers at one end. I could also see plenty of towels and duffle bags. But, that wasn't the only thing I notice. I'm sure Bruce also noticed the large group of screaming girls wrapped in towels surrounding us.
They were jumping up and down screaming and desperately trying to cover themselves. One of them was attempting to kill Bruce her tennis shoe. Leah Dunver, the school slut, just stood there bare-ass naked, smiling.
It took me a minute to regain my composure. "Um, we're very sorry ladies. We were looking for the snack machines and I guess we. uh," I lost my composure again. Leah was way too much of a distraction.
Bruce fought his way thru the group of girls with shoes and grabbed my by the collar of my jacket. Like greased lightning he ran out of the girl's shower dragging me behind like a flaming bat out of hell.
It seemed like he just kept running and running, until, suddenly, he just suddenly stopped. I turned around and got to me feet. Bruce was almost in a zombie like trance. I looked around to find what had him so transfixed. Then, I saw it.
Looming in the distance, in all their glory, were the snack machines. We both broke out in a full run straight for them. I popped a few coins into it and pressed on of the buttons, nothing happened. I pressed the coin release button, nothing happened. Then I looked up and saw, on a piece of paper taped to the machines, the words, "Out Of Order."
"Hey, Wallace, look, Sullivan doesn't have a hall pass! Go bug him for a while why don't ya," I glared dead into Wallace's eyes. Sullivan obviously heard me, because he gave me on of his "What a stupid loser looks." Man, I hated his guts!
As the moronic twosome got closer, and I was handling Wally-boy, Bruce slid into the bathroom. He moved as silently s death and as gracefully as an octopus without legs. He wasn't a chicken or anything. I just knew that Bruce'd had about five sodas before he got on the bus. Normally, Bruce would have stayed their and duked it out with Sullivan and Captain Cyclops.
"Hey Lizard boy!" The walking olive's voice drilled thru my skull and ran all the way down my spine. It was such an obnoxious sound. I didn't know what made it worse, his massive braces, or his tongue piercing. He had a very smug, and very shiny, grin on his face. He had on an aqua blue t-shirt with "Relax" written on it, brown loafers, without socks, and a white linen sports jacket. He was going for the "Miami Vice look." It sucked when HE wore it.
Wazowski's face was covered in zits. He looked like a sausage pizza with one big pepperoni in the middle. Also, back then, he didn't have a contact lens. He wore the biggest glasses on the market. The rim was thicker than my arm. And speaking of thick, the lens was about two and a half inches thick.
Wazowski was such a wanna-be, I was sickening. The only reason he was friends with Sullivan, was because they had been such good buddies in Elementary and Middle School.
While Sullivan kept heading toward me and Wallace, Wazowski walked into the bathroom. I looked at Sullivan with pure hatred. Sullivan was wearing high- top sneakers and a varsity jacket with the number ten on it. It should have had a great big zero on the back of that thing.
Sullivan was on about five foot nine inches, which was only three inches taller than me. He always wore that stupid football jacket and a pair of snake skin boots. I always suspected he wore those boots just to piss me off.
"Do you have a hall pass Mr. Sullivan?" Wallace had already made the decision to let the jock go free. He just had to act like he was doing his job. Damn, the school system is so corrupted. Athletes always got special privileges and free passing grades. It sucked so much.
Sullivan gave Wallace a suave grin and answered, "You already know the answer to that Ingram." He patted Wallace on the shoulder and whispered something into his ear. A few moments later Sullivan noticed I was trying to listen in and he looked at me angrily. "Piss off loser. This isn't any of your business."
I could have come up with better words and phrases than "Piss off" for Sullivan. I had dreams about kicking his ass. And I knew, one day, they'd come true.
"Whatever, dipshit" I mumbled. I figured that this was working fine. I had just gotten out of a hall violation citation, and I already had a plan for Sullivan. Now was not the time to carry it out. It was all about timing and opportunity. Plus, not getting caught was pretty sweet too.
Just then, Bruce walked back out of the bathroom, wiping water off of his hands. He looked even happier than usual, and for good reason. Fallowing him, was Wazowski. He was soaked to the bone and wrapped in toilet paper. Also, the asshole was sporting the largest black eye I've ever seen. It was a refreshing change. Wazowski went from a walking olive, to a walking black eyed pea.
It didn't take long for Sullivan to notice what was going on. He turned around and grabbed Bruce by the neck. If Sullivan thought I was going to watch him pull that, he was just as stupid as his loser old man. I ran up behind him and knock his feet out from under him with my tail.
The second Bruce was free of Sullivan's grip, he punched Wazowski in his eye again and we both went tearing down the hall as fast as we could. After about a minute or so of running, we stopped and looked around.
We stood there trying to catch our breath. I looked over at Bruce and started laughing. Within seconds, he had joined me.
"What happened in there?" I asked.
"That asswipe tried to give me a swirly, so a screwed him up," This was the most heroic thing I'd ever heard.
"Cool," I said. Just then, in the distance we could hear the sound of approaching snake skin boots and the plopping sound of wet loafers.
We were both still standing there in the hallway trying to catch our breath.
"Plan A, or plane B, dude?" Bruce asked, trying to catch his breath.
"B," I huffed out.
I climbed up the wall and punched in one of the ceiling tiles. Bruce fallowed me up. We both climbed into the roofing just as Sullivan and Wazowski came running thru. Being the morons that they are, neither one of them notice the big hole in the roof.
It was pretty bad up in the roof. There were old rusty pipes, and enough just to make mom discouraged. Cob webs stretched from pipe to pipe and wall to wall.
"Hey, Bruce. You wouldn't happen to know which way the snack machines are, would you?"
"Yeah, dude. They're like, back behind us, and a little ways to the left. I think." He slapped a spider crawling up his arm.
"Okay. Then let's get going," Bruce started crawling toward where he said the machines were. "Next Time we go for plan A. There is no way hiding in the girl's room is worse than this."
A few minutes later I was definitely getting bored. It seemed like we had been crawling for hours, and I could have sworn we had past that dead pigeon before.
"Hey Bruce, you wanna' hear a joke?"
"Sure."
"Okay. A nun, a Rabbi, and Susan Scarendon walk into a bar. The nun orders a vodka and tonic, the Rabbi orders a club soda, and Scarendon orders a White Russian. The rabbi looks at the nun and says." Just then the ceiling caved in and we both fell thru. And, of course, we went with it.
I opened my eyes and looked around. We were in a steamy room with a white tile floor, and lockers. There were benches on the floor and some showers at one end. I could also see plenty of towels and duffle bags. But, that wasn't the only thing I notice. I'm sure Bruce also noticed the large group of screaming girls wrapped in towels surrounding us.
They were jumping up and down screaming and desperately trying to cover themselves. One of them was attempting to kill Bruce her tennis shoe. Leah Dunver, the school slut, just stood there bare-ass naked, smiling.
It took me a minute to regain my composure. "Um, we're very sorry ladies. We were looking for the snack machines and I guess we. uh," I lost my composure again. Leah was way too much of a distraction.
Bruce fought his way thru the group of girls with shoes and grabbed my by the collar of my jacket. Like greased lightning he ran out of the girl's shower dragging me behind like a flaming bat out of hell.
It seemed like he just kept running and running, until, suddenly, he just suddenly stopped. I turned around and got to me feet. Bruce was almost in a zombie like trance. I looked around to find what had him so transfixed. Then, I saw it.
Looming in the distance, in all their glory, were the snack machines. We both broke out in a full run straight for them. I popped a few coins into it and pressed on of the buttons, nothing happened. I pressed the coin release button, nothing happened. Then I looked up and saw, on a piece of paper taped to the machines, the words, "Out Of Order."