Scary Toes

Yesterday was our first day of school, and we are very proud of ourselves for not having a spasm during own second period History class. History is primarily our worst subject, meaning that we have a vague awareness of who George Washington was, only because all our money is in dollar bills. Who the fuck is that guy on the ten, anyway? So, our professor, who we will call Anna Wintour, because she reminds us very much of her, was wearing these stylish sling-back sandals, and she had these really long, boney toes, with red toenails. So the entire time she was lecturing the class on our group assignments and our presentations, we couldn't stop staring at her toes, and thinking about how much they looked like chicken toes. By the end of class, this was seriously beginning to frighten us, even more than the thought of having a group assignment. It was nothing like English, during which we were asked the obligatory "Tell us your name and why you're here and something interesting about yourself". We said "Our name is Thea and we're here because we didn't want to go to high school," only without the creepy Royal We. We never actually got a chance to say something interesting about ourselves, because our professor (who we will call The Empress - because she likes it) and the rest of class started talking very loudly about us and how weird we were last year. It's probably for the better: the only interesting facts we were coming up with went something to the effect of "We want to spend the rest of our life with the criminally insane" (literally) and that would've been more or less a bad move in the social Risk game. And now we have a thirteen page syllabus to read, so goodbye.