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Diaries of a Little Warrior: A Faithful Martyr

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Dear Diary,

I made it all the way to 6th period without a detention.  I thought the gods were finally giving me a break.

I was almost out the doors when someone tripped me.


I felt obligated to defend myself…or rather, give justice where justice is needed. I snatched the #2 pencil out of my pony tail and stabbed the idiot in the thigh. He howled. I laughed.

His girlfriend screamed louder than him. Should’ve stabbed her too.  Every faculty member in the joint charged me and held me by the arm until Officer “Dumbass” McNew came running like an overweight linebacker with Down’s.

Officer Dumbass stood over me and shook his head like he was SO DISAPPOINTED. But really he wasn’t disappointed or sad at all. He was happy.

He hauled me by my shirt sleeve to the Principal Larry’s office and dumped me in a chair; he held the pencil in his hand like a weapon of mass destruction. He said “Well, I caught one.” You would’ve thought he’d just rescued a burning bus full of pre-schoolers.

I told him he wasn’t even a real cop and that’s why he has to pick on little lambs such as myself.

He didn’t like that very much.  He gave me a pink slip with one whole week’s worth of detentions.

He waited outside for my mom to come pick me up and put his hand on my shoulder like I was a criminal that needed to be restrained.

Mom wasn’t very happy, but Dad laughed. He’s sleeping on the couch tonight.

It’s difficult being misunderstood. It’s hard to be the bearer of truth, to live in the light, but someone’s gotta do it.

Useful quote for the day:  “Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.”

(Saw it on a bumper sticker.)

Your faithful matyr,




July 21, 2010 at 11:05 pm

Diaries of a Little Warrior: A Sheep Among Wolves

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Dear Diary,

Today we read The Lamb. What in God’s name was that guy smoking and where can I find some?

What a massive pile of disingenuous orangutan manure.

Whatever happened to Shel Silverstein and asking questions that really matter like “where the hell does the sidewalk end?” I miss 5th grade. Middle school is a damper to my spirit.

Maybe old William and his wooly little beast can sit on that and spin—very delicately, of course.

In lieu of pointless poems, I wrote a little poem of my own in detention today.

I call it “Little Dog:”

Little Dog,

What spawned thee?

I know- a Daschund and a Corgi.

I love you anyway, Little Dog O’ Mine

Thou art short and stumpy with the speed of a tortoise,

And the heart of a large warrior cat of some sorts—

A Saber-toothed tiger perhaps. Those are bad ass.

Suck it, Blake.


Coach McMillen finally assigned me my own seat in detention, right by the window which is just fine by me.

 He misspelled “detention.” What a dumbass.

 When I corrected him he said not to worry about it, but I am worried that my young mind is being molded by a gym coach with a 4th grade reading comprehension.

That is enough for now; I hear the garage door opening. I’m sure Mom will have make much unnecessary ado over the bad marks on my progress report. Apparantly I suck at following directions, paying attention, staying in my seat, speaking without raising my hand and to top if off I am (allegedly) insubordinate,  disruptive, and quarrelsome.

As predicted, they’ve send me like a sheep in the midst of the wolves.

I’ll report back tomorrow.



Valuable quote for the day: “It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you’re surrounded by turkeys.” -Annonymous


July 21, 2010 at 1:50 pm