What’s up, diary?
Now I’ve been back at school for two days. Isn’t it time for a vacation yet?
The first day everything was good. We laughed and had fun. The second day nothing was good. We argued and got a head ache. I don’t want to go to school any more. It feels like I already know everything. I’m grown up now, and on my way to being a real man. My teacher told me so. You see, a clumsy girl in our class had been dumb enough to stand in the way of a snowball that an intelligent, stylish gentleman had accidentally tossed onto the back of her head. Our teacher interrogated the class.
“Who threw the snowball at Tina?” she asked.
The intelligent, stylish gentleman was quick to confess.
“I am responsible for that unfortunate, little accident,” I said.
“Good, Ned,” our teacher said. “It’s obvious that you’re beginning to grow up when you’re willing to stand up and admit your guilt.”
But it wasn’t really true. Because I was sitting down.
And now on to our bets on how much weight our teacher gained over the break. My guess was 6.7 pounds. Benny’s was 8 pounds and Arnold’s a gentillion.
“How much is that?” the class wanted to know.
“It’s a one and six-hundred zeros. It’s the highest number in the world,” Arnold answered and looked smart.
“If she’d gained that much weight, she would’ve had to have eaten every Christmas dinner on the planet,” I said. “And she didn’t touch mine.”
Arnold thought for a minute, then he said:
“Ok, then my bet is that she’s only gone up a half gentillion.”
So yesterday we watched our teacher super carefully. We noted a little extra flab under her arms. We were going to go up to her and ask. But nobody dared. The class decided that the bet ended in a sudden-death over-time tie.
Now I’m going to go over to Nadia’s and tickle her until she tells me if she still loves me.