Senior Year is Amazing
Everyone needs to know this.
It's been a secret for too long.
Senior year is the best year of your life. Your whole life. It's better than the last year, where you're so close to death you spend most your time watching the Price is Right and tripping on DMT. It's better than the first year of marriage, when you basically have a lot of sex and burn out all the emotional currency you've been given to last a lifetime. It's better than the age of four, which, as I recall, involves shameless nose-picking, awesome cartoons, and soccer as it was truly meant to be played. Senior year is better than all of these.
I'll be honest. The best part is the sex. Think of the most dispicable fantasy you've ever had. Now multiply it by two and add in a tub of rubber gloves. It's that good. Basically as a senior you can walk down the hall, point your finger at any underclassman, do the tiniest of pelvis jabs, and you've got someone to objectify for as long as you fancy. It's that easy. And the best part is how the absolute casualness of sex makes it really meaningful. There's no more of that grimy emotional babble leading up to it. Sex is just sex. Imagine eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. How sweet is that? It's like sex, practically. Now imagine eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made out of paper. That's sex in a relationship. Paper is for writing. Sandwiches are for eating. I don't know what I'm talking about. I lick toasters.
This afternoon I took a nap and had a dream about the night sky suddenly flickering and turning off, and then the giant image of a black woman's face with a earpiece stretched across the entire black expanse, like an impossibly large television monitor. "Wow, um, sorry about this," she said. "I'll turn down the lights and, uh, thicken the atmosphere, I guess. Don't worry." Then she disappeared. Dark fog spread over the empty place where the sky had been. She didn't want us to see what had been behind there. Everyone panicked. I sensed this although I was alone on a deserted island somewhere due south of Japan. Then the monitor in the sky turned on again and I could see the face of a young white man. He made me think of Emperor Augustus. "Hello everbody," he said. "Just stay calm. This will all be over in a minute--" then he stopped. The voice of an old man came from off screen and the young man's eyes grew wide. The old man was saying, "Sir, our scanners indicate a person on the Isle." The young man spoke up again in a soothing voice, speaking only to me. "Please stay right where you are. This is a delicate situation. Near you should be an old wooden chest and a metal sphere. Please do not touch either. I need the chest for my own purposes. It's one of the originals. I, uh...carved it...myself. Just stay there." Then he stood up and the screen went blank. I walked over to the sphere. I had the sudden urge to destroy it. I lifted it. It was heavy. I carried it over to the chest, dropped it, and opened up the lid. It started to vibrate and tick. I was scared. I put the sphere inside and shut the lid, then lifted the chest over my head and hurled it into the ocean. Just as I did I saw lights coming over the horizon. Then everything went white.
Did you know rabbit meat has been known to cause hallucinations? The finest rabit meat comes from the Southwest United states. The rabbits there like to feed on peyote seeds. I found this out. I found it out a while ago.
