An intense anger sparkles and pops throughout the room, muted only by the prevailing vacuous depression.

I look down and find that I have another pad of raw meat in my hands. It cooks quickly, nearly the perfect grey-brown. I shrug my shoulders and gleefully begin another feast amidst the eerie silence of a limp, deflated academia.

“Yum!”

It is at this moment that the star pupil pompously walks by, his nose raised the required angle into the air, fully dressed in an awkwardly fitted bee costume. He is meant to look smart in this, his very own bonnet. And indeed, throughout the room, there lingers an understanding that his vestments are something of an honor.

“Ha ha ha ha! Ah He Ho Ahhhhhhh! Ha ha ha Aughhhhhhhhhhhh!”

I start laughing maniacally…uncontrollably, a cackle somewhere between Mark Hamil’s Joker and Johnny Knoxville. With a mouth full of meat, I chance to view his reaction and laugh harder still, spittling meat bits into the air as I am forced to the floor by this painfully orgasmic fit of hysterics.

Holmes is not amused…further…but he is hopeless…facing the reality of the battle lost.

Taking for granted that class will be ended early for the day, I duck outside for a minute to wash the meat from my hands and I find my father set up with a grill in the hallway.

“You want some scrambled eggs, kid?”

The most sensible proposition I’ve heard all day…

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