"European boys are sweetier than American boys."
That's what I told the Sweden boy after my English III class, when I returned the ink pen he let me use for that hour. He was there to observe American schools, because it's required for him to become a teacher. He said, "Aye!" I smiled and walked out the door to my next class, silently saying, "Yes. Yes. Yes." to myself, of course...well, I don't think anyone heard, I don't think, I hope not.
Speaking of sweetness. My dad and I went out to dinner, yesterday. We were having stimulating conversation about how Splendia is going to kill everyone in 5 years, and it's only a distraction from the "Bird Flu Virus," which is going to be the "scapegoat." If people start dying, it's not the birds, it's the no calorie sweetiner. ...and I'm drinking coffee with three packets of the stuff swimming through it.
"Damn my mother, the poor fool, who infects her child with secret governmental pesticides, for the purpose of controling the ever increasing population of the U.S."
We think that it's going to mutate our organs, so when we die, in 5 years, after they drain our blood, embalm us, and lay us in the ground, something is going to happen, we'll start breathing...and living, again.
"There will be screams in the graveyards."
Then again, I could be completely wrong. We started singing, "America, America" into the flowers of the table, because we knew the government was recording our conversation. They can trick you, but I'm not buying it. The guy sitting at the table next to us on the cellphone was an agent talking to the president. He didn't think we knew. We did. The two young guys in the table in the far back of us, wasn't checking out my ass as I got up. Oh no. They were waiting for us to get up, so they could quickly retrieve the flowers from our table. The bastards.
That's what I told the Sweden boy after my English III class, when I returned the ink pen he let me use for that hour. He was there to observe American schools, because it's required for him to become a teacher. He said, "Aye!" I smiled and walked out the door to my next class, silently saying, "Yes. Yes. Yes." to myself, of course...well, I don't think anyone heard, I don't think, I hope not.
Speaking of sweetness. My dad and I went out to dinner, yesterday. We were having stimulating conversation about how Splendia is going to kill everyone in 5 years, and it's only a distraction from the "Bird Flu Virus," which is going to be the "scapegoat." If people start dying, it's not the birds, it's the no calorie sweetiner. ...and I'm drinking coffee with three packets of the stuff swimming through it.
"Damn my mother, the poor fool, who infects her child with secret governmental pesticides, for the purpose of controling the ever increasing population of the U.S."
We think that it's going to mutate our organs, so when we die, in 5 years, after they drain our blood, embalm us, and lay us in the ground, something is going to happen, we'll start breathing...and living, again.
"There will be screams in the graveyards."
Then again, I could be completely wrong. We started singing, "America, America" into the flowers of the table, because we knew the government was recording our conversation. They can trick you, but I'm not buying it. The guy sitting at the table next to us on the cellphone was an agent talking to the president. He didn't think we knew. We did. The two young guys in the table in the far back of us, wasn't checking out my ass as I got up. Oh no. They were waiting for us to get up, so they could quickly retrieve the flowers from our table. The bastards.