What important things have I learned after finishing two of my four years at an alternative high school?

Since I just finished my sophomore year a week ago, I figure now is a good point to make a list of all the important and amazing things I learned at my lovely institution of learning.

• Shoes are optional. However, there must be a layer between your feet and the ground. Duct taping the school newspaper to the bottoms of your feet is sufficient.
• You do not go to a good school unless it has swings in the front and you use them after school, between classes and whenever class gets out early.
• Telling the hall-monitor-type-person all about how your family likes to make pot brownies and the hilarity that ensues after is acceptable. He will make fun of you for a while afterwards, though.
• Writing 'SEX—now that I have your attention,' on a poster telling you to submit to the school's literary magazine is not only funny, but effective.
• It is normal for your teacher(s?) to draw a smiley face on the board, label it with your name and then hit it with a yard stick. 
• Or instead of a smiley face, a tree labeled 'The Mighty Pipsqueak'.
• No one really looks twice when you see a teacher and a student racing down the hall on a cart full of laptops and a scooter, respectively.
• Watching anime during your free block is fun. Especially when three people walk over to you, ask what you're watching and recognize it and/or join in watching.
• A pizzarito is a mostly acceptable form of snack for forum. (Pizzarito: see the disfigured and disgusting cross between a pizza crust and a burrito filling. So much sour cream.)
• It is entertaining to pillage my classmates by running around in a longboat that we made at nine in the evening with my fellow vikings.
• Quidditch matches draw the attention of the entire school.
• If the theater director tells you to put the pot next to the beer and then screw in the pot, you do not question him.
• Haribo, a kiwi and chocolate are an acceptable lunch.
• People walking down the hall in a bear suit are often praised.
• Lady Gaga wins the talent show every time.
• Singing a two or more part song from Dr. Horrible is often met with people joining in the other parts and harmonizing.

This post somehow turned into a scary story that I heard in second grade.

I have been listening to Lady Gaga non-stop for the past three days. At least when I can get my hands on music.

 The days left of summer are slowly dripping by, like those last drops that just don't want to come off of the faucet. They drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Slower and slower with each drop.

With each drip. Drop. Drip. Drop, I lose more and more of my focus. Focus that, up until I lost it, helped me write and read and BLOG.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Have you noticed how my posts have been getting shorter and shorter? It's  because my attention span is leaking. Drip. Drop. I'm trying, though, to mop it up and drink back up my attention. I'll need it for school. If I want to be a good student like I promise myself at the beginning of every year. I'll make a list of things that I fail to keep as promises to myself tomorrow.

Now it's time for a scary story since the drippy metaphor/simile (who freaking cares, they both are comparative) has reminded me. I hope you read the title and know that I was told this in second grade. I was freaked out by it and then soon after, I was telling it to my little brother and back-door neighbor.

It's called DRIP DRIP DRIP.

So there's this little girl, she's seven. I don't know what her name is, but her parents leave her home alone like, all the time. And she's totally cool with it and junk. And there's this police man guy who checks in on her every once in a while. (Guys, this is a scary story, pretend that this could actually happen.)
So one night she's sitting at home watching TV. She's a little freaked out, so when she's freaked out, she sticks her hand under her couch where her dog sleeps, and he licks her hand. About a half hour later, she hears this weird dripping noise. Drip. Drip. Drip. She checks the kitchen and the bathroom faucets. They're not dripping. She shrugs it off and goes back to watching TV. She's a little freaked out again, so she sticks her hand under her couch and her dog licks her hand.
Right then, on TV, a SPECIAL BULLITEN pops up. Apparently, there's a lunatic murder on the loose. She's freaked out again, so she sticks her hand under her couch and her dog licks her hand.
The SPECIAL BULLITEN tells her to board up all doors and windows if you live in a certain area. Turns out, she lived in that area. So the seven-year-old somehow manages to board up the doors and windows.
She sticks her hand under her couch and her dog licks her hand when she's finished. She goes back to watching TV.
She hears the drip. Drip. Drip. Drip again. She checks the bathtub, the toilet, the washing machine, anything that could be making that noise. Nothing.
She goes back to watching TV again and she sticks her hand under her couch and her dog licks her hand.
There's a pounding at the door and she hears the familiar voice of the police man guy yelling for her to unboard the door because he needs to talk to her. She does as she is told and he comes inside and tells her to sit on the couch. She sticks her hand under her couch and her dog licks her hand. She asks the police man guy what's happening and he tells her that he thinks that he found the murderer.
There's a scurrying sound from behind the couch and he runs off yelling that she shouldn't look up. Being a seven-year-old girl, she's curious. So she looks up and her dog is hanging from the ceiling fan, blood falling, going... Drip. Drip. Drip.

THE END!

I hope you all enjoyed that.


And I hope you all know that I just typed that up at closed to three in the morning so even though I've gotten over my fear of that story in the third grade, it's starting to freak me out a bit. So that was for you. If I have nightmares tonight and if I can't get to sleep, I blame the people who read this.