I hate timed writing. I can never think of anything to write. One of the available topics today was liberals vs. conservatives (compare and contrast papers) and I didn't even really bother to take that one. I just don't write on command, I guess; something really profound has to hit me like a boat paddle and I have to remember it, and those two essential steps rarely take place together, if at all. I don't stand for mediocrity which is why you don't see much of my writing.
Today, Mr.Rice told us that he has something hidden under the rainbow umbrella that's on the wall. I must know what that something is. My first guess was that it's one of those giant .50 cal Smith and Wesson Specials, you know, in case some kid really makes a big deal out of his tardies being counted every Goddamn day, but I could be wrong. It could be a multitude of things, like a severed human hand or a small interdimensional window to a higher plane that he just got stuck with when he was assigned a classroom. I could've hit a nerve when I asked Mr.Rice what the world would look like in fractional dimensions; my answer could be behind that damn umbrella. The very umbrella itself could be some kind of weapon; a futuristic Final Fantasy-esque Gunbrella. Blade. Saber.
time for a drum break
~bass and several car
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