The Art of Ahhhhhhhh

[Boogus Epirus Aurelius]

Having just made a fantastic discussion point that shaped the entire lesson in my lit class, I was in a pretty chipper mood. Nine o clock came and we all shuffled out into the hallway where another queue of blank eyed  students were waiting to file in. A few pushes and minor shoves past and I was out and walking towards the commons and more importantly, my car. See, I only have one class on mondays and thatââ,¬â,,¢s in the morning (hence me being out of there by nine).

The sidewalks were crowded and not bumping into someone was already becoming a hassle, one thatââ,¬â,,¢s easily dealt with.

You have the people that see you coming from a block away, but somehow manage to end up face to face with you in the middle, unsure which direction the other one is going to go so you both decide to go right but that only leads to more potential head on headaches.

You have the texters, absorbed in their phones, unaware of their surroundings and the dirty glares of the straight walkers.

You have the three person horizontals, which are usually comprised of females who take up their half of the walk and more, forcing the singles on your side to form a straight line or abandon reserve and walk into the grass or a flowerbed or a game of football.

And then there was ââ,¬Å"butchââ,¬Â�, a special case and an individual I named specifically for our run in. See, butch is an anomaly in a sea of potential anomalies struggling along for a college degree and some stories to tell. I only saw her for the cumulative amount of time of a few minutes, but she was something else.

Letââ,¬â,,¢s see what Butch looks like, hmm?

Butch is a pudgy female with a traditional lesbian crew-cut with a little flair on the back, and by flair I mean a mullet-y rat-tail-ish sort of wispy blond marvel. She was wearing some odd rose tinted lennon-esque shades as well before the accident.

So thatââ,¬â,,¢s her.

So back to me walking, right? Iââ,¬â,,¢m mulling along, thinking about what to do with the rest of my day which includes compiling and putting a few touches on my speech for tomorrow when I hear a gas motor somewhere behind me and some yelling.  Naturally I look over my shoulder and I happen to see several of my peers veer off the sidewalk in alarm. Someoneââ,¬â,,¢s riding some kind of gas powered mini-bike down the middle of the largely crowded sidewalk. Itââ,¬â,,¢s butch (who Iââ,¬â,,¢ve already described and explained) and sheââ,¬â,,¢s not going slow either. Her yelling is largely comprised of ââ,¬Å"fuck youââ,¬â,,¢sââ,¬Â� and the other language that usually flows from someone who is ultimately unnessesarily angry with the world.

Someone grabs the back of my coat and I step back into the road. And then, as this thing comes driving past me on the sidewalk, shouting at everyone it can, something fantastic happens. The bike is wobbling. She canââ,¬â,,¢t control it. It veers off to the right slightly off the sidewalk into the grass. The front tire hits the root laden base of a tree and the handlebars go completely sideways. She is thrown off the side of the bike onto the grass. She dedicates her future insults to the bike and the roots.

Anger often gets you nowhere very very fast.

And itââ,¬â,,¢ll flip you over the front of your handlebars occasionally.

[YPrrrr]

Butch must be Italian

But yeah I've made it my goal this year to not get upset by things and so far I've gotten a much more positive reaction

[rdl]

All I can say is cool story bro, and I don't mean that in a bad way.

Keep em coming

[strongbad]

That was a really enjoyable read. I remember these from IFCA and I loved them then too.
Never stop.

[applesauce]

Cook.