I would like to make an apology. Apparently, a few people were offended because I used the “s” word five times in last issue’s “Guess What . . . Shut up!” article. It was not very polite – though I figured that most of you would have realized by now that I am not very polite. So anyways, I assure you that I will no longer use those filthy, filthy words – even though when I walk down the hall I hear things much worse coming from all these people that are supposedly going to be offended by me. So since taking away the “s” word cuts my article down to about half of what it normally is, I’ll have to fill up the empty spaces with things that make no sense. Surprise, surprise.
Speaking of flowers (Nice way to start an article, huh?), don’t order anything from Bachman’s. I sent some flowers to someone (Yes, it was a girl. Smart-alecks), and Bachman’s did a pretty pitiful job. They delivered the flowers in a cardboard box (Purple, that is!) stuffed with crumpled and shredded newspaper. It was delivered by a lady, not in the (Purple, that is!) Bachman’s truck, but in a regular car. Well, this certain person (Girl, that is!) then thought it was a Jehovah’s witness (No kidding – this is a true story) and hid in her basement. So basically, they took my flowers and teddy bear, gift wrapped them both in the Sunday comics, stuffed it all into a cardboard (Purple, that is!) box, and had it delivered by someone who wasn’t even in her purple that is uniform. What a crock. Worst $3 I ever spent.
I can’t believe how many smart people there are in this world. You know, Bachman’s people, car salesmen– and especially people who flash their brights while driving. The new Grand Am that my parents bought has daytime running lights on it. So whenever I’m driving, there’s always at least a few people who believe that it is positively, absolutely, without a doubt their job to make sure people have their lights on and off at the right time of day. Fe, fi, fo, fum, I see someone really dumb. So they flash their brights, even if they have their lights on too. Fe, fi, fo, fum, I can’t walk and chew my gum. Flashing your brights only makes me more angry, so that I have to follow you home and…CENSORED. Don’t flash your brights. It’s pointless. It’s like my grandpa trying to play Twister with Gumby. It’s like having a staaring contest with Stevie Wonder. It’s like driving all the way to Burger King to eat, because you think their Pepsi tastes better than McDonalds’. It’s like a one-legged man in – no. No, wait. Let’s end it there.
