Why God Should Have Never Created Phsychiatrists or Cheap Candy

For the next hour, I listened to the horrible music pouring out of the mouths of Burrito and counselor Dr. Sing-Sing (A psychiatrist. Personally, she frightens me. She always smiles from ear-to-ear and patrols the hallways and hands out cheap dollar-store candy if she sees you out of class.)

I nodded whenever they stopped talking, parents came and talked, and so on. Finally, after the constant stream of words going in one ear and coming out the other ended, I left with a piece of disgusting candy from Dr. Sing-Sing which promptly left my hand to visit its good friend, Senor Trash Can.

By now, it was time for the Anatomy quiz I was planning on studying for in the library. I walked in, failed the quiz miserably, stared at the clock for half-an-hour while everyone else finished their quizzes, and shot out the door faster then a light particle the millisecond the bell rang.

I was walking towards my locker when I saw Michelle, who froze when she saw me and ran around the corner.

Of course, I ran after her.

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