01 | overload

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Has anyone ever died because of crap overload inside their brain?

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Has anyone ever died because of crap overload inside their brain?

If I'm the first one, please make an NFT of my MRI scan and put the money made from it into a trust fund for future shortage of medical grade oxygen. Because I stopped registering what my history teacher is saying about fifteen minutes ago and my head feels like it's about to burst.

Breathing out an evidently disgruntled sigh, I take out a stick of peppermint gum and tear the wrapper noisily.

The crackling sound of the plastic is soft but the sleepy silence in the class amplifies it.

The teacher pauses and stares at me as I place it on my tongue shamelessly and people start to turn around to look at me in the second last row to watch the show.

Honestly, I don't mind the attention. In some ways it makes me feel important.

I continue chewing my gum, and pretend to be oblivious as I run a hand through my thick wavy, black hair.

"I do not allow any student to eat in class, Miss Davis." The history lady says sternly, setting the textbook in her hands onto her desk.

"Phew, thank god I'm good then. I normally don't swallow my gum so you shouldn't have a problem." I retort in a bored tone and a few boys in the front snigger.

"That's enough Miss Davis!" the teacher says in an appalled tone, "Do not force me to throw you out of my class."

She breaks a small piece of the chalk piece in her hand and tosses it towards me. The piece misses me by a few inches because of her terrible aim and rolls near my feet after landing.

Jeez, she really wants to piss me off, doesn't she?

Here I am, simply minding my own business and trying to be courteous enough to stay awake in her class and she really wants to choose this moment to prove a disciplinary example.

Unnerved by the sudden liveliness in her period the teacher glances threateningly at the students sitting under her nose before planting her attention on me again.

"How dare you talk back to me like that, Miss Davis?" she scowls like an ugly harpy, "Spit that gum out right now and stand up and elaborate the change that appeared in art in medieval Europe."

That question isn't even hard and it feels like an absolute joke to me. If she wanted to humiliate me in class, the least she could have done was to ask something that wasn't in a highlighted box in the textbook.

I stand up nevertheless, slinging my bag onto one shoulder and step out of my seat.

"Page seventy four, second paragraph up to the last paragraph on page seventy five." I smile listlessly as I sashay out of the classroom.

Pages rustle behind me as several students check if the answer is on the page numbers I named and a few boys whistle.

"Detention, Miss Davis!" the teacher screamed from the doorway, "And I'll have the headmaster know about your impossibly difficult behaviour in my class. We'll see which school accepts you after that."

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