Careful and quiet as she sends the pencil

Careful and quiet as she sends the pencil down the page in short strokes, she chews on her lower lip, soft and pink and scarred from childhood. Even so, her lips are perfect.

she is perfect to me and beautiful of course with a good sene of humor also

. Only thing is, she ain't got no money. So I told her to get lost. I need a rich bitch. It was that same night...the night I went to the Monster Truck Pull...that something BIG

would possibly happen to me that night never crossed my mind. Of course, karma is a bitch and she's as rich as they come. By the end of the evening I would pay penance for all my

assorted pranks: the crumpled newspaper filling Susan's office, using my best Malik impression to call him in sick for work ten minutes before he got here. Oh how I wished that

somehow, someday, someone would come in and put a stop to this. But for now, all I can do is sit here and wait for

a red-and-purple soccer ball to hit me in the head. Surely enough, almost as if my unconscious longing had willed it into actuality, it happened in that instant. It hit me so hard

on my head that I developed a large bump. At first I thought it was temporary but as the months passed and I became known as 'Bumpy-head', I realised it was here to stay. I tried t

o use foundation to cover it. When I looked closer into the mirror, I noticed a small crease in the bump, then an eye opened.

I jumped back, surprised. The eye was fixated on me, floating in the reflected plane of the mirror. It was at that point that I decided to sleep whatever it was I had taken off.