Texting out of the basement of High School drivers ed class on a rainy afternoon:
Me: My voice leaves my mouth and takes a left turn into the vacuum of space. Their flat eyes tell me that it's Friday; That I don't really exist.
Carl: I can hear you crying into the void.
Me: Thanks, babe.
Mike: You teachers are all the same.
Bethany: Obviously you are subbing at Orwell High today.
Me: It could be Soylent Green High and they would still show up religiously to do nothing but lodge their complaints about the service. I think I'm over this subbing thing.
Bethany: I always thought you'd be a good lion tamer.
Me: Or an alpaca stylist. Or maybe I could bead-dazzle things for a living.
Bethany: I think you could change the world by bringing the Flowbee into the world of alpaca styling. And I'm not just saying that.
I'll totally turn the whole farm show scene on it's ear. You'll see.
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