June 2nd, 1973. Day One.Mature

A 70s high school student and hippie bored with life. Title taken from the Beatles' work of art: A Day in the Life. Don't expect too much of this. And sorry if I get any dates wrong, don't be afraid to tell me if I do!

  Waking up from a good dream is always a drag. Waking up from a good dream in 4th period world history is worse. BUT waking up from a good dream in 4th period world history to a spit ball making it's slimy way from your dreadlocks to the back of your neck is a good way to ruin your day. Rubbing my eyes, I turned around, looking for my attacker. There, with a smug grin on his face and a straw in his hand was my best friend, David Harper.

 Harper truly was a real piece of work. Decked out in a ridiculous leather jacket and pinstriped pants, he adopted the look of one of those dumb anarchists who stick safety pins through their noses for a statement against the faceless masses or something like that. His blue mow hawk gave him an extra ten inches on his already towering height of 6 ft 5. Silver metal stuck out of his face and ears. Every nerve in my body told me to be scared of the giant punk rocker, but from our first conversation about the genius of Richard Pryor and The Who, I knew we would be cool.

 I gave him a polite smile and promptly raised my middle finger in his general direction. "Bite me." I mouthed, as the teacher droned on about the Roman Empire. He blew me a kiss.

"Any time babe."

The End

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