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Tales of a Moron Part 2


Tales of a Moron will be an ongoing story that will be given in pieces in the form of short stories. It will be updated as the web-page is updated. Enjoy!

I sleep pretty well and then get up in the morning to go jog. Of course first I have to stretch, I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to wrap my leg around the back of my head. Now some would ask why do I do this. Well my answer is that jogging helps me to think and to relax.

Whenever I jog around this campus I am able to think. To think about how I wish I wasn't jogging and how I wonder how much longer I can go before I keel over and throw up, or pass out, or even both at the same time. I wonder how people would feel to find me in my state of unconsciousness laying in a pool of my own vomit. Would they even care? And if they did care would they care enough to walk me over to Crawford, the health center on campus. I certainly hope so because that is what is about to happen. I'm waiting come on now I can feel it. Just give up Todd just give up. Let your body fall, ok? Hey dork, do you hear me? You're talking to yourself. Fall down. I can't, despite the voice I heard telling me to do so. I'm so close to the finish line only a few more steps to go. Closer and closer. Ah! Finally I reached the finish line.

Upon reaching the finish line I take off my shirt and start walking around to loosen myself up. I say myself because as far as I can tell I don't have any muscles be relaxed. I start walking towards my room amidst the usual calls of "Hey jerk put your shirt back on," and "I don't need to wake up to this," and of course, "I'm going blind!" This doesn't bother me. I know I'm pale and bony. Yes I even scare myself looking in the mirror at this pale monstrosity, but I don't care what the others think I'm hot and that's all that matters… which is why I start putting my shirt back on of course.

I finally make it to my dorm, which is an eight-floor monstrosity, that somewhere around half of the guys on campus call home. It's dirty, there's trash on the floors, and the bathrooms are disgusting. In short it's a guy's dorm. I walk along the hall to get to the stairwell, noticing that somebody has decided to beat the mud off of their shoes by banging them against the walls, how delightful. I make it to the staircase and mount my way up the stairs, all the while avoiding broken beer bottles, and bits and pieces of food that have been there for the last few weeks and have gained a sentience of their own.

After this dangerous trek I go to my room and get some clothes, a towel, soap, washcloth, and my bag of bathroom type stuff, these will all be needed for the bathroom. Upon entering the bathroom I duck a bug's flying attack, while simultaneously blocking a blow aimed for my neck. I turn to see who the owner of this blow is, but realize it's just my roommate. He mumbles a curse and something about "foiled again." I shake my head at the lame attempt and place my stuff on the bathroom counter. I then take my toothbrush and toothpaste out of my bathroom bag and begin to brush my teeth.

Since I was a little kid my teeth have always been discolored, I don't know why. Though, if I did know there would just be all sorts of new problems and questions created by that little bit of knowledge. That's how all knowledge is after all. I mean when people started realizing that yellow teeth aren't attractive they had to find out about toothpaste, and then when they found out about toothpaste, well they had to find a way to apply it to the teeth, which of course led to the toothbrush, but wait the toothbrush doesn't get to all part of the teeth so make a better toothbrush and start using floss, oh wait now the toothpaste could be better so let's make some more and so on and so forth. I ask you are white teeth really that important, when in the end we're all going to die? I mean it's not like you're going to go to Heaven and God's not going to want to look at you while pronouncing judgement just because you're teeth are yellow or in some cases not even there. I mean you get a new body in Heaven and in hell well you have a lot more important things to worry about then don't you?

I finish brushing my teeth and begin flossing. I remember when I had to get braces that my gums started bleeding and the pain hurt quite a bit so I started to cry just a bit. The dentist assistant told me to stop because none of the other children were crying. The other children were at least ten years younger than I and they were also gassed up so as to not feel the pain I was feeling. I asked why my gums were bleeding and she told me it was because I didn't floss, which I didn't, but nonetheless now that I do floss I've come to notice very little difference between then and now. My gums still hurt, but now they no longer bleed, perhaps eventually my gums will be as hard as steel, but for now they are as hard as gums that have not been properly flossed in the last 18 years of my life. Ah well that's enough of that, time to take a shower.

Showers, surprisingly enough, can lead to disease. Wait sorry college showers can lead to diseases. No, no my dormitory's showers can lead to disease. I know that sounds weird, but hey it's a bunch of nasty guys held up in one building doing who knows what in who knows where. So we all have to wear flip flops in the showers while we bathe ourselves, so we don't want to catch any funky diseases like athlete's foot and so on. Also in our showers are bugs. I don't say insects because occasionally spiders take up residence as well. Either way it makes for an interesting shower experience. Usually they won't mess with you, but they crawl into the weirdest places and you're in the nude so it's kinda weird because you are not in bug smashing mode at all when you're naked. Oh well, that's just one aspect of showering here. I think showers are time warps as well.

No, really, they are. How do I know? Well ok I spend what in normal spaces would be twenty or thirty minutes in the shower, but whenever I get out of the shower and I get dressed the clock says I have only been in there ten minutes. I wonder how it works sometimes. I mean were they designed to be that way. Are the shower makers well payed for putting in the time warp? Oh well, shower's over and of course it only took ten minutes. Yeah right I know better.

I've never been able to dress myself. Not like I can't put pants on or pull a shirt over my head or, you know, the basics. What I can't do is match colors. I don't understand that green and orange don't go together. I have never completely understood why sun yellow and a drab brown can't mix. They look fine to me, but alas I was apparently not given the talent for fashion or even it's most basic form, that of being able to match things by color codes. Because of this fact I usually just wear blue jean-shorts with a T-shirt of some sort. My favorite T-shirt has a bar of soap with the word Zao carved into it, which is an obvious rip-off of the incredible movie and book by Chuck Palahnuk, Fight Club. I leave the bathroom and finish getting dressed in my room. After I get dressed I head down to breakfast.

On to Part 3 of Tales of a Moron

Back to Part 1 of Tales of a Moron

Back to the Short Stories
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