showeytheshower

If you've still managed to pay attention to my account despite my jaw-dropping lack of time management, then congrats! Requests are open for a bit, as I haven't been drawing much lately due to stress and school.

Nothing too complex or inappropriate, btw.

Yo, I'm still active, just really been busy with school and writing stuff. Should be more active when finals are done.

Ugh, I really need an opening line to these.

Hey, there it is!

Now, this demonstration of pure intellect was right around the time of the Pacer incident, which you can witness here: showeytheshower.deviantart.com…

Here's another piece of useless trivia about me:

I detest Facebook. It's only real functions are to serve as a political springboard for ignorance, and poorly-made minion memes. The real kicker is I don't know which one of those is worse.

Now, two girls were involved in this happy accident, excluding the happy. To protect the (non) innocent, let's refer to them as “Mary” and “Sue”, because I have the brainpower of a LED.

Now these girls HATED Facebook. And by Facebook I mean each other. But the hate was over Facebook, so my earlier point holds some relevance. Anyway, one of them said they were going to fight the other at lunch or something similar, I didn't pay much attention.

It had to be a joke, right?

Approximately one-hundred percent wrong, reader.

As I stood in the line of students, waiting for the painted cardboard they call pizza, I hear shouting. This doesn't seem out of the ordinary, so I continue to internally scream for the line to go faster. Then I see a ring of student with their phones out.

Now, in school, and ring of students and shouting can only mean one thing.

MORTAL KOMBAT

Everyone ran to the scene of the two girls pulling hair and shouting. They simply saw a fight. Those fools. I saw an opportunity.

It is commonly agreed that people have unique priorities. Some people enjoy being around family, others enjoy adventure and independence, etc.

Now, I had skipped breakfast that morning, so my priorities were a tad skewed. While most people saw a fight that they could record and upload to YouTube, I saw something different. I saw an empty lunch line.

You better believe I grabbed a foam tray, ran to the front of the fading line, and slammed it on the counter.

“Pizza, please.”

The lunch lady looked puzzled, to say the least.

“Don't you see the figh-”

“Pizza, please.”

School lunch has never tasted better after that.

The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.

We've all heard it. But have you experienced it? Or rather, have you survived it?

While I was a book-smart kid, my common sense was akin to a rock. If that hasn't been established by my other stories, than I'm even more of a failure than I thought. Now, remember that whole 'peer pressure' thing you were taught in school? Yeah, that sort of happened.

My middle school (or secondary, if you're outside the U.S) years were not my most mature ones. And running a 69 on the Pacer would be considered hilarious in that age group. So who decides to joke about it in front of their friends?

(In case you haven't guessed it, I'm sort of the moron you're supposed to sympathize or laugh at in these stories.)

If you have a few IQ points laying around, than you've concluded it was me. Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.

Anyway, my group of friends jokes:

"There is no way you could do that, Showey."

Now, blind determination to a stupid cause is my speciality, so I decide to concur.

As established here: (showeytheshower.deviantart.com…), I am not an althete. And the collection of potent body spray and stale memes I was in 7th grade wasn't either. And yet, as those cheesy 80's PSA commercials predicted, I fell for peer pressure. Don't do the Pacer, kids.

Anyway, we're herded like cattle into a gigantic line stretching across the gymnasium. The sound of a future meme is heard, and we start off.

As my lungs start collapsing within the first thirty seconds, I immediately question my athletic ability and every decision I've ever made. The air is dank and heavy with body odor, and my ears are filled with the sweet sound of  exhaustion and terrible royalty-free music. This is what hell looks like.

But do I give up?

Of course not. My stupidity and need to impress others know no bounds. So I suffer along with the rest of my classmates.

The sadistic voice cries out "Twenty."

Then, "Thirty."

"Fourty."

My sight starts to blur, black spots appearing in my vision. My chest feels like Atlas, supporting the entire weight of the Earth. Most, if not all my friends have dropped out. I tread on.

"Fifty"

"Sixty"

I've died internally at this point. The thing running is just an emotionless husk, only wanting to finish what he had started. I stumble on, sweat completely abstructing my vision. Finally, the most beautiful sound enters my eardrums.

"Sixty-nine"

I dragged myself over to the smug teacher, mumbled my score, and went over to my friends.

"What was your score, Showey?"

My face holds no emotion. I only speak once.


"Sixty-nine."

Rules:
1.) Start a journal entry. (Mission Accomplished)
2.) Get ready to hold your breath.
3.) Hold your while holding the "." button down as long as you can - no cheating
4.) Submit the journal entry.

Final Words: "TELL MY STORY"

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Oh man I'm starting to black out.