Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Star of the Class Pt. II

So, the poetry class still goes on and Randall from Monsters, Inc. has not ceased to be creepy and confusing.  Although, we (and by we I mean my entire class who seems to have united under the basis of finding Randall from Monster's Inc. both amusing and frightening) may have found the cause.

I entered the classroom on that fateful day, instantly cold (this was not for dramatic effect, it's actually very cold in that room), my nose peaking at a familiar and infamous smell. Is it my imagination or do I smell a bit of Mary Jane, I wonder as I prepare for class.  I look up to see the kid across from me staring at Randall from Monsters, Inc. who looks doleful. Kid across from me glances to his friend and does the universal pantomime for smoking a doobie.  Friend nods and mouths: that explains a lot. I find myself sighing. First of all, I'm not so innocent that I was mistaken in my thought that I had smelled pot and secondly, thank you, baby Jesus, he's not just like that in real life. OF COURSE he's blazed all the time. Beautiful/intelligent/black-frame-glasses-wearing professor walks in, his nose peaking at the odor that has permeated the class.  I wonder if he'll say anything, already picturing in my mind how that would play out.  He doesn't say anything and begins class, ignoring the REALLY noticeable stench of pot in the air.

A few other tales to tell:

His last poem began with the line (or maybe this was the title, I couldn't tell): I think she may have fucked a glittery dolphin once or twice. I think that's all that needs to be said about that.

He's taken to giggling in class... all throughout class. When it gets particularly bad, Laughs-at-my-jokes-professor will nod at him and say, "oh yeah?" as if trying to figure out what the fuck is so funny.

He's moved on from saying "I like the words in this poem," and has taken to saying "This poem is hilarious" regardless of whether the poem is about gay anal sex (oh yeah, it happened), or a really butch chick who you've described as trollish, much to the poet's offense (I think she may have been dating this butch girl).

Most frighteningly however was when he chased a group of us down after class yelling "HHEEEYYY!" we all turned to see his black curly locks bouncing in the wind, his face lit up in that crook smile.  Our eyes collectively widened in horror. He closed the distance between us, and looked directly into one of my classmate's eyes inquiring, "do you have a lighter man?" I marvel at his urgency.

Perfect Professor is ordering pizza for our final class. When asked who wouldn't eat pizza, Randall from Monsters, Inc.'s hand shot up instantly.  His was the only one. Typical. I am now wondering if he will bring pot to share. Sweet/lovely/I-will-miss-him-forever-professor did say that we could bring something if we so choose.

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