Weezer had a concert at my school, and Rivers Cuomo clubbed me with his guitar. I was visualizing this from a different vantage point, the guitar's. I could see myself diving face first into someone's torso and hearing shrills of pain.
Then my house was turned into an episode of Full House. Joey was living in our shed and setting up a science fair display with stuffed animals and an old rocket I made for my 5th grade science class. Uncle Jesse gave us rides to school on his motorcycle but made us wear these goofy Beaver Hats like they did in Colonial America. At school, I attended my first class in a nonexistent broom closet (ha, like my school even has room for things like that) with my Driver's Education teacher. My teacher, who in reality smells like freshly-unwrapped bubblegum, disclosed secret information to me about his not-so-distant past. It seems that in his free time, he worked at the Bazooka Joe factory as a comic book artist. One day he added a political cartoon to his piece of gum, and was immediately fired. The political cartoon, this bothers me, was one with two women fighting, one calling the other an obedient slut. Now the thing that bothers me is that this is an actual political cartoon and he was taking credit for it.
Cut shot to my English class where I'm talking to Ben. I'm trying to tell him something but I'm speaking some Slovak language that he can't understand. He hands me Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse V, and I vaguely remember asking him why Vonnegut didn't write the first four Slaughterhouse books first. He understood this, and we both laughed until the bell rang an hour and a half later. Damn, I'm a good comedian.