I dropped one of the socks from my closet on the floor in my bedroom and it left a big black burn hole there. Fever. Then I was all, "Damn. If you come out I'll get you some Tylenol." No response.
Oh, yeah. School. I guess it's different for me than for people who are going back to the same school. I am a fresh[wo]man arriving in a different place. It's all going to be new and weird for me and for 500 other kids getting thrown into a mix. It's like riding with your dog in the car for three months, and then letting your dog out somewhere its never been, and they get all psycho and hyped because they smell all these things they've never smelled before. At least, that's how I invision it. I've actually never owned a dog before. It's just me and Molly Cyd, and she's psycho and hyper pretty much all the time anyway.
I have a poster of a starved Indian boy with red dust on his face, which I tore out of an old National Geographic magazine a few years ago. I taped it to my wall. I talk to Red Boy when Mr. IB is sleeping or not feeling sociable. Red Boy is pretty cool, but I think he scares my friends. He can't help it, it's just the way his face works.
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