He'd lost a bet. He'd lost a bet. That's what he kept telling himself as he wandered over to the disused classroom set aside for the Socio-Cultural Anthropology. He'd bet a fellow Hallowe'ener that he could jump high enough to catch a bird in mid flight from the pond... and had failed absolutely miserably.
The result? Go take the class that was as boring and brutal as could be. Reading was boring, man, and it would put him to sleep! He hated the thought of having to sit still for extended lengths of time trying to decipher dry writing enough to commit something to memory.
Blargh.
THIS IS HALLOWEEN
WHERE IT IS ALWAYS HALLOWEEN (and sometimes exams)
Reply | ||||||
|
|