The worker raised his razor-sharp weapon to the sky, a tiny clod of dirt plummeting towards the driveway, but not before being deflected by the worker's desperado-style, wide-brimmed hat. For a heroic instant, the twin blades he displayed seemed ready to harness a bolt of lightning from the sky. The worker's victim trembled at the cool, everpresent gusts of wind. Its skin was a pale, shimmering green. The electric tension in the air stopped time, and only the defiant warrior's next move could start it again.

John then stopped fucking around, and continued trimming the hedges.
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So today, I took the PSAT. Easier than the practice test even, which I took at 10:00 without knowing how to do it, and got a 200. I think I'll do well.

After sitting around on Rob's EverQuest account (despite my quitting, it's still a decent way to pass time), I finally got a call from Sterling, whose father once again requested my incredible power of labor for his lawnmowing business. I guess I'm just that awesome. He even said I'm good at trimming hedges - after all, I do take an aggressive stance towards the leafy bastards.

So once I cut up all those things, I tied all the long sticks together in several bundles, which took just about forever, and left me with a cut in my thumb and a BITCH of a poke in the eye. I'd forgotten my badass amber sunglasses today, and was jabbed in my already dysfunctional ocular organ by an obnoxious stick. It still hurts.

Two lawns after that made me 25 bucks today. No fortune as the 90 dollar day of death I experienced a few weeks ago, but not bad at all for cutting shit up and pushing self-propelled machines around. Besides, I like my hat.

After I got off from work, ate a bowl of chili and took a shower, I got to hang out with Larkin at Starbucks. Stressed out beyond what most humans find physically and mentally unbearable, these days, she not only has to deal with doing well in her senior year (Durio's physics class and Mrs.Schnell's mysterious grading system included), but the never-ending torment of her tyrannical father, the general hostility of her household, and the completion of applications and essays for more than 15 colleges. I admire the poor girl. My back would've broken a long time ago in her situation, yet my brilliant, spritely author goes on.

Observing these afflictions and injustices which really plague my chick, I immediately treated her to Starbucks so she could tell me of all that troubles her. I like listening to her tell me of her troubles; even the saddest stories make me happy to have her close to me. The confessions we exchange give me a sense of trust I've never felt so strongly in my life. What would we do without each other? I'd be playing Rob's EverQuest account all the time, probably.