Wednesday, March 16th, 2:40 P.M.
People at school started hearing
back from the colleges the applied to today.
Some people were disappointed with the replies they received. Some were pleased, not getting exactly what
they wanted but at least something good.
Others were nearly orgasmic. I
wish I was kidding. There were loud
screams of pure joy, people jumping around like a supercharged jumping bean,
and even people hyperventilating to the point that they passed out. And that was among the men.
One of the people who received news
today was Cam Sobe. This is the
offensive lineman who is as big as a refrigerator, has a head the size of a
cantaloupe that ate another cantaloupe, and who’s notable academic accomplishment
is one term getting a report card that spelt the word “FACBIFF”, if in fact
that is a word. Today Cam got word that
he was accepted to Dolore University, an accomplishment he couldn’t put into
words. Literally. He’s that fucking stupid.
This gave me hope for my application to Dolore
University. I mean, if a fat dumb
verbrecher like Cam can get it, surely I can, right? So, once school let out, I went straight home
and checked the mail. Among the junk
mail, credit card applications, bills, and lingerie catalogues Mom receives was
a letter from Dolore University. I tore
open the envelope and started reading the letter inside.
Dear Mr.
Shurtleff
It is out
unfortunate duty to tell you…
I didn’t read much further past
that. I don’t understand this. I have near perfect grades, participate in
several school clubs, and have as perfect of attendance as you can get. How did I not get in? How did I not get into Dolore and Cam did?
Still, I haven’t heard back from
Vierdestad or Moenia Prima yet, so there’s still hope. Hell, even if I don’t get into college, I can
still make a pretty penny writing term papers for Cam. I’m pretty sure he can’t play football if his
grades spell out the word “FFFFFFF”.
Later.
Hato Shurtleff
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