The Anti-School

some Times you Need to Take power Back from The institution.

===================================================

Blinded pigs writhing on their backs in a pit of oily greenbeans.

A herd of dolphins is stuck on a giant trampoline. Dolphins are smart. Dolphins begin to learn how to bounce. They get higher with each jump. They can finally see straight. The trampoline spreads out to the edge of their view, disappearing into fog. Dolphins start to move bounce bounce. In the distance they hear the pigs sloshing around.

I am so thankful of my glasses.

A globule of spit careens towards my glasses. Contact. A tiny little droplet runs down from the landing zone towards the center of my vision, right where her trembling, shaking, seething, sweating, bulging, red face is. Her eyes are trained on me like two sniper rifles, shooting me with their emotions. “Don’t call me creative” she spits. Another globule of saliva launches its final mission towards my glasses. “Don’t call me creative!”  A third globule joins its comrades. “Don’t call me creative!” “Don’t call me creative!!” “DON’T CALL ME CREATIVE””DON’T CALL ME CREATIVE!””DONTCALLEMCREATIVDONTCALLMECREATIVEDONTCALLMECREATIVE!!!!!DSFIHAOSEIUEFNAOSIUDIOFAHSDPIFHAPSDdjpoaidnfpaiusnd….

I black out.

I awake to find myself in a rainforest. Oh wait, I’m not in a rainforest, my glasses are just coated in angry spit. I’m not sweating from the humidity, my face is just coated in a misting of angry spit. I take off my glasses and my eyes are dry and spectacular, except for my terrible blurry vision.

I am so thankful of my glasses.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s