 Wowza!
I am definitely upset. More than upset, actually. Furious. Fuming. Beyond words. Absolutely angry. I think those words are the perfect description of the way I feel right now.
If for some stupid reason I happen to see the face of Rapunzel Ariel Black within a ten mile radius right now, I’m going to chuck something at her. A chair, maybe. And you better be sure that if it wasn’t because I’m much too lazy to go all the way to my dormitory and get my heavy trunk, I’d gladly chuck that at her, instead.
But now that I think about it, doing that would be just too mean—for my trunk, that is. Imagine having to make contact with Rapunzel’s head. How mean with that be, eh?
Then again, getting hit by a trunk may be exactly what the obviously mentally ill Hufflepuff needs. A pretty heavy trunk smashing against her head could maybe wake up her obviously dead brain cells. That’s assuming she actually has a brain, of course. I don’t think she does. And if she does, it doesn’t work properly.
But really, I won’t chuck my trunk at her. A chair, maybe, but not my precious trunk. She’d probably end up getting pretty hurt, and I’m sure that Professor Lainey wouldn’t like that. I’ll probably get yell that, and that’s something I do not want. Not because of hitting Rapunzel’s head, at least.
Oh, but you cannot fathom how much I detest that girl. Worse than that idiotic Sherlock, that one is.
How dare she call me different only because I’m a beater? And what on earth was she thinking when she called me anti-social? I have plenty of friends, and the fact that I do not like her unlike half of the school, doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with me. Half of the school is wrong for liking her, not me. And honestly, that is not a surprise, considering that half of the school if moping over the boys. Ridiculous.
Almost as ridiculous as Rapunzel Black is. Ridiculous blonde.
So Rapunzel thinks I’m different, eh? I’ll show her what different is. I’ll give her different—an entire different kind of pain is what that girl is going to feel once one of my bludgers connect with one of her arms. She’s going to regret of every single word that came out of her incoherent mouth. And really, who cares if Ryan gets mad because I hit his girlfriend? I think I can deal with his possible wrath. Is not my fault that she happens to be playing on the team we’ll be playing against for the championship game. And it is definitely not my fault that I do not like her in the slightest, either.
And you know what? She thinks I’m different? I’m not the one that is bipolar and/or mentally unstable. Unlike her, of course.
Rant over. I’m out of here.
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Last edited by Angie; 08-28-2008 at 02:51 AM.
Reason: Because Angie can't spell. xD
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