Detention chronicles. (14/3/08)

I’ll approach her. Invite her to come sit with me.
I’ll tell her i know she doesn’t have anything better to do, and that if it weren’t for us computer techies, she’d be bored silly -
and think of how proud my teasing her would make paratrooper boy, thinking i’m picking up to pace with his book of romantic abominations.
 
I’d get around to telling her being out by 1200 is the good life, and ask her what she does with all that free time.
She’ll look at me funny, and i’ll say i’m just preparing her to me asking if she wants to go out with me.
She’ll stare blankly for a second, and i’ll stick my tongue out at her, looking like a moron,
making her laugh.
 
Making her laugh will always have been such a rewarding process.
 
Of course she’ll go out with me.
I’ll get excited over music. She’ll like that, though she’ll find the actual music difficult.
A few hours later we’ll be discussing something and shell say something is ‘charming’ again,
and i’ll look at her with wide eyes and tell her she’s unbearable.
she’ll ask why and i’ll kiss her on the forehead.
She’l be confused, smiling vividly without looking away.
 
She’ll utter a puzzled ‘what?..’, and i’ll say it’s nothing relevant and move on.
 
We’ll both be spread on our backs, naked, and i’ll tell her she’s pretty cute in uniform,
but seeing her in her civvies is an entirely different experience.
Considering she’s even more attractive without those said civvies, i’ll explain in a well-versed and educated science channel voice,
logic and the scientific method’s principal of continuity that if i was some day to skin her, she would look even better.
 
She’ll giggle, and i’ll feel childish again.
Such a rewarding process.
 
I’ll tell her this is me being retarded all over again, and my science channel monotone will drill away at the idea being that when she sees i’m going at it like that, she’s to get me to shut up by any means neccessary, and that-..
‘Shut up’, she’ll say,
and i’ll go ‘yep, that’s one way to do it.’
 
She won’t smile.
 
This page is to be torn and disposed of, the fantasy contained herein to go with it.
I don’t know you.
Who’s soul is it that i attach to all these innocent bystanders?
Would they be honored, had they known?..

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