School Days, Fool Days, Here We Break The Rules Days

 

              There I was.  I had walked by, down the street, and you called me ‘A Dope.’   I feel like I’m the one you hate most.   Lately you’ve taken my money and you sure have taken my hope.  I’m afraid that soon you will kill me.  And that’s one of the ways how you chill me.

              Your actions are now beyond diatomic frictional garbage heightened ionic Jupiters, who keep killing lizards mounted on nucleic  objects while putting their own qualitatively radioactivity strongly together as they keep envisioning watery x-rays as yearly zoos.

              At our last fifth grade class you stood up from your desk and asked me, “What does Comet Sutra mean?”

              The teacher glared as I asked, “Is that the Curse of the Demon or  One of the Cures of the Demand?”

              The teacher asked the rest of the class, “Are they Deep Mud Eyes?”

              The kid in the desk in back of me asked the teacher, “And which Demon Nation are you in?”

              I smirked and said, “I’m in the Witch Demon Tune.”

              While the teacher asked me, “Did you just tune in or are you tuna?”

              And you pointed at me and asked loudly, “Will you ever find Solutions or just Salute Ions?”

              I said, “There sure is Tons of Fish.”

              The teacher then said, “You all have to stay after class because this ‘Re So Lute’ keeps going on and on and ons.”

              The kid in back of me said. “We are becoming overloaded with Ions.”

              To which the teacher pointed her ruler and said, “Demand Solar Tubes.”

              Someone I couldn’t see squeaked, “Don’t tony me!”

              I stood up and asked, “Me tea or Your Pride?”

              The principal walked in and asked, “Are you giving us another ride?”  Then he walked out the door and slammed it.  All of us in the class heard him singing in the hall way:

 

                             “You said cicada, I said luna.

                               You’ll say Maple. I’ll say Death Head.

                               ‘Cicada’, ‘Luna’, ‘Maple’, ‘Death Head’.

                               We need to call this whole thing a Moth.”

 

              That caused the teacher to chalk up on the blackboard, “Mothra Moth sure Try Cocoon Suits. Ya!”

              I raised my hand and asked when I was called on, “Is that an Insecticide or are their just Insects Inside?”

              The kid that started this argument with me yelled, “My Insect Just Died!”

              And that other kid in back of me said, “Well, My Injected Insect has only Just Dieted.”

              The teacher said, “There is nothing ‘Just’ about any one of you.”

              I got out of my seat and ran out the door, shouting, “You can’t go by me, but you sure can go bury me.  Some Say Moan Play Buried Haze.  Hay, Hay, Holy Grass it all, Ya All, Will Haul, In the Mall!”

              The kid that argued with me shouted, “The Plunge Will Find Their Way!”

              And there was the principal with the school’s nurse.  The nurse asked me, “Are you a Film Maker or do you Just Fill Marks with Hurt?”

              I said, “Nope, I am just Fudged Odor.”

              The principal said, “The Older you get The More in the same class You’ll look.”

              I ran home and my father told me, “I heard on the phone that Jack’s son leans.  Your school is Losing all your  old blue jeans.”

              My mother then pointed at me and said, “Those Magnetics sure are the prism on his vest.”

              That was when we noticed that ours was the dirtiest and cleanest street of this city.  It is the one made of mud and boiled in a microwave.  I thought, “So should I say ‘Good Bye?’”  But I knew I could not say ‘Good Buy!’ I decided that I’ll just turn the corner.  I’ll turn the corn when it is popped over.  That corn is so corny that it pops all the time.  So, at home we are in a time machine.  I sure am having my time smashed in.  It must be my intrude duction.  What ducks are you in?  Father’s here and his feather there, ‘Father’ ‘Feather’ I heard everywhere.  And that caused me to confusedly ask myself, “So where is that herd of ducks?  I am a nerd without luck.  Lucky, Lucky, Puch Change.”

 

              I then heard my Dad singing:

 

                             “Oh beer, who can my master be?

                               Seven empty bottles are falling all over me.

                               I must drive, so where on the street should I be?

                               Nobody knows I take dares.”

 

              And my mother asked, “Have I voted or am I vetoed?”

              My father pointed to me and replied, “I voted to veto you.  You had me feel like boated and life exploded.  That’s what I told Ed. Ed the Educator.”

              Then he told me, all the school’s recording said over the phone was:

 

                             “Burning Bush,

                              Plenty of Push,

                              Making Mighty,

                              Nickel Nush”

 

              That’s the way life was then.  That’s still the way life is now.  I realize that If you sneeze once I’ll sneeze twice.  If you die once, I’ll die twice.  We are just a couple of dice.  Nope, you certainly are a mice.  Is that your advice?  I guess I’ll take a splice.  I have a bunch of lice.

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