GAROTE's High School Day:

You are dreaming of the house again. The dim corridors wind into forever. The windows always show a land that is eternally caught between night and dawn. Forms that exist, yet do not exist drift through you in the cold stairwells. Twisted gravestones are thrown in eerie red releif. Frightened shrouds pursue each other through fog over damp grass. Insane cackles echo behind your vision, just beyond hearing, just beyond audible form. Fantastic caverns loom overhead, luminescent growths beckon, swaying decayed forms reach for you and one another. The air is thick with spores and the hot breath of rotting reality. Ripping sheets of cartilege, reminiscent of tearing skin, blowing in the damned breeze, coming from nowhere to guide you onward. The dim light resolves to a knocking, there is a creak....
Your alarm clock is going off.
> Sleep.

You cannot, your alarm clock is going off.
> Kill alarm clock.

You cannot, for then you would be late.
> Turn off alarm clock.

You fumble blindly with your right arm and manage to shut it off.
> Get up.

Too late, sleep has claimed you again. Intense smashing rythmic thuds, of rock against rock. Searing hot lava burns channels through the stone, falling into a glowing pool. The pool bubbles, pushes, rears itself up. The mess resolves itself into a glowing female form and the heat engulfs you, searing. Great pain, then the promise of rest eternal as the burning fades, along with everything else...
You wake up.
> Get up.

This time you manage to get up.
> look clock

Oh shit. The clock reads 7:16.
> Get dressed.

In your haste, you momentarily forget how to put on your pants.
Minutes pass as you figure it out.
You put on your shoes, then your socks. You wear your underwear like a hat. Your shirt is on backwards and inside out.
> Grab wallet, keys, notepad.

You snatch up all three and jam them into the wrong pockets, respectfully.
> Eat.

In your haste to consume a box of cheerios SANS sugar, SANS milk, you lodge a peice of glue-coated cardboard in your throat. Minutes pass as your saliva breaks it down enough to swallow.
> Hop in car.

You run outside and leap into the little blue weenymobeele.
> Start car.

Minutes pass while you locate your keys. You start the car.
> Turn on radio.

George Michael fades in, screaming about faith.
> Turn off radio.

Minutes pass before you recover enough IQ points to turn off the radio.
> Drive to school

You shoot down the freeway at a smooth 75, and arrive in the school parking lot. You are forced to park downstairs again.
> Go to graphic arts.

You attend your graphic arts class. You explain to Robie that you woke up late and he mumbles "cool" and messes with the roll sheet. Andy is not here.
Crude rap assails your eardrums as you produce a royal-purple rocky-the-rooster t-shirt for your delinquent buddy zog-the-flog's next jail-visitation date. The bell rings.
> do homework in library with Tara.

You cannot. You left your backpack at home.
> scream. drive home for backpack.

"aaaahhh sshIIIIIIITTT!!!"
You race home at a passable 70mph and apprehend your backpack.
You make it back to school and manage to nab an upstairs parking space.
> do homework in library with Tara.

You go to the library but Tara has already left.
Your day looks a bit gloomier.
You manage to scrawl out tomorrows' analysis homework.
> Go to analysis.

No, stupid, this is an A day. You have Spanish 4 next.
> Okay, dammit, then go there!

Mr. Pagano is absent AGAIN. A substitute teacher who cannot speak spanish tries fitfully to make the students work, but they will have none of it. You and Phil play a game of chess, at which he beats you soundly. Phil pulls out an interesting set of cards, and describes a game called "magic." So you play a few games of "magic", and beat him soundly, three times in a row. Phil accuses you of stacking the deck, and you threaten to report his secret anti-republican ritual activities to the police.
This shuts him up.
The lunch bell rings.
> Drive to weinerdood. Consume. Drive back.

You do this, and make it back just in time to hear the bell ring.
> stroll calmly to economics.

Mr.Dunlap teaches the class (which, without you, would have a collective IQ less than the total attendance) the same material seven times in a row, while you take a nap.
Soon the bell rings.
> race to library.

Shouldn't you use car?
> no duh, ASSHOLE.

Just making sure...
You race to the library at a fine 78mph. A daredevil tries to pass you but you repeatedly block him, pissing him off quite nicely. He flashes his lights, so you slow down to a cool 40mph before taking your exit.
You make it to the library.
> put on walkman.

You press the big red button and your car stereo transforms itself into a portable handheld model complete with waistclip. (read: you unplug your walkman from the crummy car amplifier) You slap in a tape of tchaikovsky.
> enter library.

Barbara is here, checking out books. She asks you how the SAT went.
> lie to appear normal.

"Well, yeah, I was nervous." Barbara looks satisfied, and returns to work.
There are some books here, on a cart.
> count books

There are too many to count.
> shelve some books.

You accidentally place a western in the fiction section.
You accidentally place a large-print mystery in with the normal mysteries.
You accidentally place a charged book on the shelves.
You accidentally place a book with a "new" sticker in with the normal fiction.
You accidentally place a juvenile oversize in the adult oversize section.
You accidentally place a romance paperback in the science fiction section.
The same number of books is on the cart.
> shelve some books.

You have trouble jamming a huge but still non-oversize categorized book into the shelves of normal non-fiction.
You have trouble placing a book because someone reversed the order of a section of over 30 books as a practical joke.
You have trouble re-distributing books between two shelves and jam in the final books with brute force, to the melodious sound of shredding paper.
The same number of books is still on the cart.
> go insane.

Don't tempt me.
> ponder death.

Don't tempt me.
> shelve books.

You continue shelving until the library closes.
> drive home.

Your car slowly creeps up your road and into the driveway.
> get out of car. eat.

You exit your car and walk inside. Everyone else has already eaten, but you find some left-over spaghetti in the 'fridge.
> bbs.

You read about your delinquent friend zog-the-flog's successful attempt at jailbreak. Seems he is reaching the internet from a terminal in the basement of a swedish sex shop in Iraq.
> shower.

The days' troubles melt away in the soothing hot spray... NOT.
> go to bed.

Woops, you didn't set your alarm.
Crackling embers in the great stone fireplace. Gentle rain on the windows.
Suddenly the floor begins to move. Metal spikes spring from the walls. A gleaming mettalic jungle grows from the earth. The hot sun makes you sweat, but the bars are cool. Hand over hand you journey out over the alien lanscape far below. Blue-tinted forests in fantastic colors beckon below the clouds. Your hands continue their moving, but you make little progress. The bars stretch into blue nothingness...

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