At the end of the day, I was finishing up in the bathroom before heading home, when Kenny Rogers comes in and blocks of the door, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “What do you want, Kenny?” I demand. Whenever Kenny does this to somebody, it’s bad news. And if I was the one he wanted to corner this time, then I was seriously in trouble. “Oh, it doesn’t matter anyway. See you tomorrow.” I tried to walk out the door, but he just pushed me back into the bathroom. He walked in, and closed the door behind him. Now I was getting worried. This was bad. “Not so fast Stephens. You see, you made a fool of me today. And I don’t like being made a fool of.” “I’m not sure what’s wrong with that Kenny. You are a fool.” Kenny’s face was turning red. He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I wouldn’t be so loose with your mouth if I was you. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, Stephens.” With that Kenny rushed forward and put me in a headlock. His cigarette was still hanging out of his mouth and smelling absolutely horrible, and no matter how hard I tried to get out, I couldn’t escape his grip. Let’s face it, I’m five and a half feet tall, 120 pounds, completely average guy. I was going up against a bull that didn’t know anything but brute force. I was doomed. I was scared, but above all, I was mad. Really, really mad! At the top of my lungs, I yelled out “Let go of me!” and it happened again. This should have been my second clue, but I was too scared to realize it. The cigarette in Kenny’s mouth flared up and burst into flame. The fire went straight into his face, and Kenny let me go, screaming in agony as his face burned. He let the burning cigarette drop to the floor, and started backing away. “You’ll pay for this, Stephens,” he said as he opened the door. “Mark my words, one of these days, you’ll regret this.” He opened the door and left. ? I was alone in the bathroom, confused and bewildered. I don’t know what came over me then, but I felt a sudden euphoria at this, and an urge to take a drag on his cigarette, just to prove to myself that I was stronger. I reached down, grabbed the cigarette, took a drag, and was pleasantly surprised: I felt nothing. People often described to me that their first drag on a cigarette felt like somebody was drawing a knife up their throat, but I felt nothing? What was going on? Something, I knew that much, but as to the specifics, I was left with no answers but the drip of the leaky faucet.
Whatever was happening, I had to start finding out. I decided to stay at school and use the computers in the library for some incognito research, trying to find out what on earth had just happened. I wasn’t going to do this at home; my parents used monitoring software to track the websites I went to, because they didn’t want me looking at pornography. I didn’t know what the problem was with it; most fifteen and sixteen year olds had seen that kind of stuff. But for whatever reason, they checked every website I’d gone to that day before going to bed, just in case. I went over to a computer, and opened up my e-mail. Mr. Samson had sent me an e-mail, asking me if I was okay and apologizing for what had happened in class today. He also told me that if Kenny did anything else to me to send him an e-mail. I wasn’t going to tell him about what had just happened; the details were too sketchy and I didn’t understand it myself. Instead, I deleted the message and sat down to research. Of course, first I had to figure out what exactly I had been doing, if I’d done anything at all. I started looking up ‘resistance to burns’, but all I got off Google and every other search engine was stuff about video games and fire-eaters. I kept up my search, but everywhere I looked came up a dead end. I didn’t know what to call today’s events, so after an hour of fruitless searching, I packed up my stuff and started walking home. If only I had waited just a few more minutes.
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At the end of the day, I was finishing up in the bathroom before heading home, when Kenny Rogers comes in and blocks of the door, cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“What do you want, Kenny?” I demand. Whenever Kenny does this to somebody, it’s bad news. And if I was the one he wanted to corner this time, then I was seriously in trouble. “Oh, it doesn’t matter anyway. See you tomorrow.”
I tried to walk out the door, but he just pushed me back into the bathroom. He walked in, and closed the door behind him. Now I was getting worried. This was bad.
“Not so fast Stephens. You see, you made a fool of me today. And I don’t like being made a fool of.”
“I’m not sure what’s wrong with that Kenny. You are a fool.”
Kenny’s face was turning red. He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I wouldn’t be so loose with your mouth if I was you. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, Stephens.”
With that Kenny rushed forward and put me in a headlock. His cigarette was still hanging out of his mouth and smelling absolutely horrible, and no matter how hard I tried to get out, I couldn’t escape his grip. Let’s face it, I’m five and a half feet tall, 120 pounds, completely average guy. I was going up against a bull that didn’t know anything but brute force. I was doomed. I was scared, but above all, I was mad. Really, really mad!
At the top of my lungs, I yelled out “Let go of me!” and it happened again. This should have been my second clue, but I was too scared to realize it.
The cigarette in Kenny’s mouth flared up and burst into flame. The fire went straight into his face, and Kenny let me go, screaming in agony as his face burned. He let the burning cigarette drop to the floor, and started backing away.
“You’ll pay for this, Stephens,” he said as he opened the door. “Mark my words, one of these days, you’ll regret this.” He opened the door and left. ? I was alone in the bathroom, confused and bewildered. I don’t know what came over me then, but I felt a sudden euphoria at this, and an urge to take a drag on his cigarette, just to prove to myself that I was stronger. I reached down, grabbed the cigarette, took a drag, and was pleasantly surprised: I felt nothing. People often described to me that their first drag on a cigarette felt like somebody was drawing a knife up their throat, but I felt nothing? What was going on? Something, I knew that much, but as to the specifics, I was left with no answers but the drip of the leaky faucet.
Whatever was happening, I had to start finding out. I decided to stay at school and use the computers in the library for some incognito research, trying to find out what on earth had just happened. I wasn’t going to do this at home; my parents used monitoring software to track the websites I went to, because they didn’t want me looking at pornography. I didn’t know what the problem was with it; most fifteen and sixteen year olds had seen that kind of stuff. But for whatever reason, they checked every website I’d gone to that day before going to bed, just in case.
I went over to a computer, and opened up my e-mail. Mr. Samson had sent me an e-mail, asking me if I was okay and apologizing for what had happened in class today. He also told me that if Kenny did anything else to me to send him an e-mail. I wasn’t going to tell him about what had just happened; the details were too sketchy and I didn’t understand it myself. Instead, I deleted the message and sat down to research.
Of course, first I had to figure out what exactly I had been doing, if I’d done anything at all. I started looking up ‘resistance to burns’, but all I got off Google and every other search engine was stuff about video games and fire-eaters. I kept up my search, but everywhere I looked came up a dead end. I didn’t know what to call today’s events, so after an hour of fruitless searching, I packed up my stuff and started walking home.
If only I had waited just a few more minutes.
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