Entry tags:
I wish I my arm was a solenoid quench gun in *real* life.
While I was eating dinner, the school's secret society (membership about five, apparently) ran in and knocked down a bunch of stuff. Being hardcore, they were all wearing nice custom-made white hoodies decorated with their attractive logo, plus the white masks. They have a KKK theme going on, but the hoods weren't pointy, that being too last season. Though, as advertised, they *were* all husky white guys.
I wasn't looking up when they came in, and was sitting pretty much off in the corner, but the sequence of events seemed to be,
( (cut for diagram and long-winded tactical analysis) )
Though if they had, this might have ended slightly differently, because I was up against the left wall, arming myself like I was apparently fucking Jamie Lee Curtis in the basement or something.
I froze for a few seconds, then started very carefully removing stuff from my tray so I could use it as a weapon - I had some trouble with the cup of orange juice, because I was watching them and not my hands, and I remember thinking that the staff was going to have e-fucking-*nough* to clean up without *me* spilling anything.
As I think we've all noticed by now, when I get angry, my soul becomes one with that of the 'splosion. If anyone had gotten too close to me right then, even Random Bystander #53, I think I would have bashed them over the head with my stupid tray. I was visualizing very clearly a plan involving tangling one of the assholes in a chair and sitting on him until security came. It came complete with cuss words.
But they were already on their way out by the time I was on my feet, so I grabbed my cell phone and called security instead. Then I left because I couldn't handle the fucking noise anymore. The stream of cuss words running through my head that didn't dry up until I was halfway back to the dorm.
My god, I fucking hate those guys.
I wasn't looking up when they came in, and was sitting pretty much off in the corner, but the sequence of events seemed to be,
( (cut for diagram and long-winded tactical analysis) )
Though if they had, this might have ended slightly differently, because I was up against the left wall, arming myself like I was apparently fucking Jamie Lee Curtis in the basement or something.
I froze for a few seconds, then started very carefully removing stuff from my tray so I could use it as a weapon - I had some trouble with the cup of orange juice, because I was watching them and not my hands, and I remember thinking that the staff was going to have e-fucking-*nough* to clean up without *me* spilling anything.
As I think we've all noticed by now, when I get angry, my soul becomes one with that of the 'splosion. If anyone had gotten too close to me right then, even Random Bystander #53, I think I would have bashed them over the head with my stupid tray. I was visualizing very clearly a plan involving tangling one of the assholes in a chair and sitting on him until security came. It came complete with cuss words.
But they were already on their way out by the time I was on my feet, so I grabbed my cell phone and called security instead. Then I left because I couldn't handle the fucking noise anymore. The stream of cuss words running through my head that didn't dry up until I was halfway back to the dorm.
My god, I fucking hate those guys.