Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Microstory 283: Perspective Fifty-Eight

Perspective Fifty-Seven

I’ve had it up to here with this place. These people don’t understand who I am, or what I am. Yeah, I’m quiet. And yeah, I sometimes have what appear to be violent outbursts, but I’m no danger. I don’t keep a knife in my locker, and I wouldn’t know where to start if I wanted to get my hands on a gun. But I’ve actually heard from others that I’m the kid everyone thinks is gonna show up with an AK and just blast everyone away. The truth is that I just don’t like school, and my interests lie elsewhere. I have a group of friends who all go to this preppy private school, and I really only ever want to hang out with them. They’re the coolest people I know, so why would I waste my time with these jackasses? And why should I fill my brain up with all this crap either? Teach me to count money, and to read, and then leave me alone. I don’t need nothing else. My brother’s an adult, and he’ll be damned if he can tell me the last time he used long division. It’s ridiculous, and I have no use for it. So yeah, sometimes I skip school. It’s not a big deal. I already know what I’m going to do with my life. Last time I checked, you didn’t have to go to college to be a dental hygienist. Now, I know what you’re thinking; what kind of middle school kid wants to be a dental hygienist? Well, first off, it pays well. I won’t be making six figures, but whatever. Second, you get to stab people with things, and they just have to sit there and be happy about it. You do the same thing every day, there aren’t really any surprises, and when you go home, you’re done. My dad has an office job, and he spends all evening working at home. He always says that when he’s not on the clock...he’s on the clock. But my uncle is a dental hygienist, and he loves it. He’s so much happier with his life than my father is. So please, you can keep your Shakespeare monologues and balanced chemical equations. Screw this meeting with the vice principal. I’m going to meet my friends in the back of the superstore.

Perspective Fifty-Nine

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