7. You, my friend, are not Christopher Reeve.

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                    7. THE BOMB-DOT-COM

Ever met one of those people that just sauntered into your classroom thirty minutes late like they owned the entire school building and just decided not to walk into the classroom on time when really they had the chance to be early?

I have.

It was so annoying, the way he acted. He'd just come in with pants low enough to display his superman boxers, after two-thirds of the period had already gone by, and ask the stupid question, “Did I miss anything?”

To which no one dared to reply, “Yeah, how about half the school year?”, although I really wanted someone to say that.

And then he'd be really disruptive in class, annoying both the teacher and his classmates while we all stared at him in extreme irritation.

This guy was ridiculous. I mean he didn't just think he was the bomb-dot-com; he thought he was freaking superman.

So one day I said to this guy, named Hubro, “Well, I got news for you, mister. You can't just make a mistake and then fly really fast around the earth to reverse time and fix it; this ain't a movie. And I know this because if it was, you'd be better looking and I'd be rich.”

. . . Okay, I did not say that. I didn't say anything even remotely close to that. Here's what really happened:

“Sorry I'm late,” Hubro said, strolling casually into the classroom. “Not.” He handed the teacher a late slip and plopped down into the seat next to me.

I stared hard at my pencil, thinking about how incredibly rude this boy was. If he even bothers to talk to me I'm going to shove this pencil so far up his—

“Hey,” whispered a voice on my left.

Oh, he better not ask me for a pen.

“Can I borrow a pencil?”

My grip on the pencil in my hand hardened. You want the pencil? Oh, I'll give you the pencil. Which way sounds more appealing? Stabbed inside your hand or jammed up your nose? Or, maybe you'd rather—

“Sure,” I said.

And then I handed him the pencil.

So yeah, totally defeats the purpose of most of the rant written before this statement, but still. You get the gist.

Anyway, this guy Hubro also thought he was hilarious.

We all know the difference between someone who’s actually funny and someone who’s just trying way too hard.

I can’t stress it enough . . . if no one is laughing at your jokes, you should stop trying to force them to. Maybe the jokes are funny to you, but to others? Not so much. Why don’t you just . . . think the jokes inside your head . . . and laugh to yourself . . . ?

Okay, that’s probably not the best idea. But I’d say people thinking I was mentally insane because I was laughing for no reason was better than people staring at me blankly because my joke didn’t even sound like words in the English language.

. . . That’s totally B.S. Don’t you ever laugh to yourself when you’re on public transportation. It won’t end well.

Because let’s say you’re on a train. The cart is full of people and they’re all happily minding their business. And all of a sudden you’re all, “Haha . . . ahahahahaha . . . HAHAHAHA . . . AHA!”

And then suddenly your cart is completely empty and you have no idea where everyone went.

This has totally happened before. Not even joking.

Don't do it, people. Don't.  Do it.

Well, now that that's covered . . . how did I get from Hubro to uncomfortable train situations?

You know, I would say that I'm losing my mind, but I'm not entirely sure I've ever had any sane thoughts running through my mind in the first place so instead I'm just going to change the subject.

Wanna know where I came up with the name Hubro?

. . . No? Too bad.

So I got the name Hubro from the Greek word, hubris, which means "excessive pride". I think it fits well, don't you?

I know right? I should listen in class more often. Who knew listening to your teachers could actually make you smart?

But anyway, let's get back to discussing Hubro. Hubros out in the world, I have a piece of advice for you.

Not really. I just want to say, you shouldn’t ask me to borrow any writing utensils. 'Cuz next time, you'll face the wrath of my awesomeness.

. . . Which we all know apparently just consists of me giving you whatever you asked for.

Sigh. Clearly, I am in need of some guidance.

Well, there's only one thing to do now.


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Side note: If any of you don’t know what “the bomb-dot-com” means, it’s basically like saying you’re the most amazing thing that has ever happened to mankind.

Guess who's back back back! :3

Anyway! So I decided to upload. I decided to continue on with this story, but don’t expect the updates to be frequent. They won’t be; believe me. With the amount of homework I get, it’s a wonder I still remember to breathe when I wake up.

Although I could totally see myself somehow forgetting one day . . . Like the reflex just escapes my mind and I sit there trying to figure out what I'm forgetting.

Anyway. I’d like to know, you guys. Are you a Hubro? Comment below! :) By the way, go check out my story, INSIDE. It's about romance and it's going to have some humor in there somewhere, so go read le first chapter.


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