Waltzing, Seed Pod Flicking, And Various Other Fascinating Activities

And, once again, the J.G. states her fantastic knack for getting into trouble. And her complete and utter lack of proper respect for authority. And her tendency to speak in the third person. And her talent for sitting still for long periods of time. Sorry, am I confusing you?

All right. Here's the method to my madness. Of course, the method merely qualifies as more madness, so that's not exactly the best explanation, but you get the idea. After a rousing game of soccer and then a slightly less rousing game of Sports Trivia in P.E., I sat down to flunch with Dakota, David, and Spencer. Yes, flunch, that was not a typo. We have lunch during F Period, hence, flunch. (Another ripe debate about whether or not it's a word, I suppose.) After barely surviving several Ace Ventura enactments, my lunch and sanity were comfortably disposed of, and I moved tables, minus lunch tray and trash, to chat with James and Max.

Let's take stock of the situation. We have me, or rather, us, if you include Erika and Ely, who are being more assertive than usual lately and want health insurance, who is a Phantom, specifically of a Junior High, and is therefore possibly delusional. We have Max, who is - actually, 'nuff said. We have Max. And we have James, who has a level of paranoia in regard to communism relatively close to Joseph McCarthey's. This was quite obviously going to develop into something a little scary, but then you include seed pods, which there were certainly enough of lying around on the table, from the garantuan tree up above us. Sorry about garantuan - Quentin Tarantino moment. Anyway.

The seed pods. James was talking away, and the J.G. kids you not, about the conspiracy of the Chinese communists with the Killer Squirrels and the MLB to control the world. Of course, Max just had to mention, "You know, I was a communist for two weeks." And the war began.

We were fighting for domination of the lunch table. James was the bright shining light of American democracy, Max was Socialism, and I was representing The Ambigous People In This For The Excitement. We battled for world domination, or lunch table domination, by flicking seed pods at each other.

Just then, out of the darkness and the smoke, out of the abyss, came the Lord of Darkness, otherwise known as Mr. M. He greeted us politely with, "Do you want to clean up this lunch table, or go visit Dean Sherman?" Only faster, sort of, and punchier, if you know what I mean. Which you don't. But I don't really care. To proceed. "Do you want to clean up this lunch table, or go visit Dean Sherman? You have five seconds to decide."

Label me confused and send me to the Paris Opera House, Mr. M. What? I did my best to explain that I hadn't eaten here, because I thought he meant food, and well, it just went downhill from there. Damn my stupid, stupid, Erik-ish pride.

To make a long story short, I ended up in the prinicipal's office, after having given Mr. M. plenty of opportunities to refer to me as "girl" but look at me as if I were a bug, and finally, ended up in Mr. R.D.'s office, having a slightly tubby man with a lisp scolding me for I'm still not sure what.

And that's it for the Saga of the Seep Pods.

As far as waltzing goes, I'm now writing a series of one-shot short stories which all have Erik waltzing with someone. So far I've finished Erik and Luciana's, and started Erik and Christine's. I'm very pleased with Erik and Luciana's. For any (humph) under educated non-phans, Luciana is from Susan Kay's Phantom. Erik worked for her father, Giovanni, a stone mason, during his time in Rome, in his adolescence. And, as adolescents are wont to do, Erik and Luciana developed a bit of a mutual thing for each other. Sweet at first, but it ended badly.

And now for some Erik like logic.

Ben, you have to tell me who you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is, because you said I told you. If I told you I already know, therefore I've merely forgotten and it is common courtesy for you to remind me. Besides, I already know who he is, and I just want to know if you know. Max, you have to tell me because I'm curious as to what you think about this whole business. (If you guess correctly who he is, I must inform you that he is immune to being Punjabbed by anyone but me.)

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.