Author: uberbudgie





I keep dreaming that I am in high school.

Not any of my old high schools, either, just

these weird places that look more like JC's

and have all of the same droll restrictions

as I had as a minor.



So, there was this giant wood shop, it must

have been about the size of the Costco near

where I live, and mostly unoccupied. No

one was working on projects; there were a

few people that all looked about my age

(early-mid twenties) that were really just

sitting around, socializing, and smoking very

huge bongs made out of metallic lucite.



I was in wood shop, and really wanted to leave,

but the school had hired more security and

I was avoiding my parents for whatever reason.

Perhaps it was more like a boarding school;

you couldn't leave the property at all at the

end of the school day.



I just know that I really didn't want to deal

with my parents, they depressed me.



The teacher was dressed in this judges'

costume, wig and everything, screaming

things that were so obtuse I just tuned him

out... And then he sounded just like the

teacher in the Charlie Brown television special,

and I noticed it was a wood shop teacher

from junior high I especially disliked, and

flipped him off before turning my back and

chatting with the stoners.



There was this one who was very cute,

a very slight blond with long silky hair

down to his waist. He had this elf-like

quality to him, and was a sculptor. I had

no idea what he was doing at high school

either, but didn't feel like asking. We

decided to ditch class and run into the

woods as far as we could so we could

make out with some measure of privacy

and garner inspiration.



(The 'school' was on a hundred acres or

so of wooded land, and surrounded by an

electrified perimeter fence).



We got outside and it was that weird time

of day where the sky seems almost electric,

when the sky just starts to darken but it's

not quite sunset. We run as fast as we can,

past all of these ghost-town looking three

story wooden towers, where the guards

(all middle-aged and toothless in Western

Movie type outfits) are looking at us and

shouting "hey, where do you think YOUR'E

going?" but we run anyways because we

aren't afraid of them and want to do as much

as we can before they catch us and drag us

back to class again.



The woods for some reason had transformed

itself into a sagebrush wasteland during the

time we'd been 'in class', so there was no

real privacy. We fell to the ground about

twenty feet from the fence and began to

tear off each other's clothes. I heard the

guards closing in when I woke up, annoyed

I didn't get much time with that lovely, pale

body.

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