Of all the places I've ever woken up, I'd have to say that school would be the worst.

Every period of sleep for me is generally followed by a few brief moments of not knowing where the hell I am, or why I'm there. Familiar places, such as my own bed or my girlfriend's basement, are quickly assimilated into the brain, and the waking mind soon understands and remembers what's going on. Even slightly less familiar places, such as a friend's house, where you've spent a total of six hours, all in one go, are not so hard on the head. One generally remembers why one is there, or at least falling asleep there.

However, this was not the case, that fateful day. I had not gotten much sleep the night before. I rarely do. Anyway, the swaying and rocking motion of my school bus soon lulled me into a stupor, and I was having problems keeping my eyes open. Screaming in my head that I must stay awake, that the bus was the last place I wanted to fall asleep, did little to help.

So I woke up, one of my friendly neighbourhood hicks shaking me. "Hey, man... wake up!" I blinked at him and looked out the window. The all too familiar, "Gzuh? Where the hell? ..." Then, I realized I was looking at my schoolyard of three years. I was at school. I didn't want to be at school. Right at that moment, all I wanted were some warm blankets and a soft matress.

I dragged my sorry ass out of the bus and went into the cafeteria. Now, I read on the bus, so I won't fall asleep.

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