Posted by celiapleete in school days | Comments
The Hunted Child.
His mother and father would not play with him.
No one wanted to play with him.
He wet the bed.
He wet his pants.
There were boogers in his hair.
He talked a lot about uncomfortable things.
There was a reason why his father and mother kept him a home prisoner.
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Oregon Trail
If you grew up with computer labs in the 1980s-early 1990s, you’ll get this. But even if you didn’t, it’s still freaking funny.
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Spider Man
He drew out his sword, not to be taken in by this diction trickery.
“…Then why are you dressed like a man bear?” he said, voice quavering with the sword in the quiver.
“Do not ask me such childish things!” cried Man Bear Mountain Spider, laughing evilly in a chilling baritone. “This is my jam!”
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Helping Johnny Remember
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Posted by celiapleete in in the closet, school days | Comments
I Knew This Was The Most Becoming Suit…
…Because Mrs. Leslie, who many had declared rather “strange,” came closer…closer to me, pressing her heaving bosom against my back, breathing heavily.
“You’re pretty as a picture, my dear.”
That day, I lost my innocence; my picture of maidenhood tarnished by a burning desire to make love in this tweed getup. I had arrived. I never knew passion as wicked as that thrown upon me by a zaftig woman in a whimsical hat.