So hell yes I told Ms. Granby that he and his asshole friends threw that chair at me. Where exactly they got the chair is a mystery to me, and their methodsof how exactly they got it into the locker room undiscovered by the school’s oh-so-brilliant and attentive faculty is even more perplexing. But nevertheless, the twits pulled off their masterful stunt, along with their stunning demolition of the English language, and there wasn’t anyone to back me up. Therefore, I had to take justice into my own hands.
So tell me why I was now on the bike trails behind the school surrounded by Evan and his little posse of faithful miscreants claiming that I was the one out of line? I think that throwing a chair at a person from out of left-field kind of outweighs my being a tattle-tale, buddy. I mean really, I could have been killed or least seriously injured, and all for the sake of his arrogance and intolerance.
“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, you fucking fag!”
Again with the lack of creativity?
The canopy above had blocked out most of the sun, and their oddly misshapen forms and faces were eerily shadowed in a way that Albert Hitchcock would just have gobbled up. They surrounded me like a sinister cult that was about to offer me up as a living sacrifice to their deity. Everyone that is, except for Evan, who stood directly in front of me, and whose giant blotchy forehead was totally illuminated by a single peeking ray of sunlight that fell on just the worst possible spot. I knew I was in trouble the moment his blemish had more than doubled in size like the eye of a hungry Cyclops.