We were just a few unwanted, unloved, outcasts who happened to listen to music religiously. We didn’t bother people, and people didn’t bother us. Until last week that is.
Someone decided that it would be funny to practice their artistic talent. On our lockers. With spray paint. Personally,I thought it was pretty funny, but apparently James and Freya did not. So James, being James, decided to revenge the amateur artists. He spent about three days muttering to himself, constantly writing in his little black notebook. He finally came up to us on Thursday with an elaborate plan involving tanks, paint bombs, heat-seeking missles. Quite frankly, I thought it was a bit over the top.And where are you going to get a such a missle in a town populated by 1200 rednecks who can’t shoot a BB gun without hitting themselves? We had to spend all of 6th period explaining to him that we are not, under any circumstances, killing and or maiming the artists. Instead we came up with a seemingly simple plan. No explosives required.