Three Options

‘Veggiesaurus or meatysaurus? That’s the choice.’
As far as I could see, I actually had three options, none of which were particularly appealing. I was being held upside down by the ankles, by brutal Bobby Jones over the toilet bowl. The third option being, having my head dipped in said toilet bowl.
‘A’right, a’right,’ I screamed. ‘I’ll choose, I’ll choose.’
There was a giggle from Bobby’s mates, as I was lowered unceremoniously on to the cold, toilet floor. One particularly distrusting individual gripped tightly on to my ankle.
Two beakers (apparently borrowed from the science lab) were placed unceremoniously in front of me. The left hand one contained a deep blue liquid that smelled suspiciously like bleach. The other, was pinky red in colour and smelled like nothing on earth.
‘Come on’ urged Bobby impatiently.
Neither of the options particularly appealed. The toilet bowl beckoned.
‘Which one is which?’
Bobby rolled his eyes. His patience was fast running out.
‘The pink one is the meatysaurus and the blue, the veggiesaurus one.’
I don’t know why I had asked. It’s not like either one would turn me into a dinosaur. Best case scenario would be that I would end up very ill in hospital.
‘Alright, I’ll have the blue one.’ I wasn’t going to chance the consequences, should I choose the pink.
I picked up the blue one and swirled it round, trying not to think about what I was about to do. All eyes in the boys’ toilets were fixed on me. I closed my eyes and drank…
A bizarre sensation shuddered down my spine and I could feel the liquid burning down my throat and into my stomach. It was so intense, that my eyes began to stream. So this is what dying felt like.
My fellow toilet frequenters scattered like cockroaches. Horror etched on their faces. They obviously hadn’t expected me to drink it.
Fear welled up inside me, but another sensation overpowered it. I felt incredibly bloated, as though my insides were pushing against my skin in an attempt to escape.
Was I going to explode?
Suddenly the toilets were getting smaller and smaller. I seemed to be racing upwards at an uncompromising pace. I banged my head on the ceiling, then the ceiling gave way as my head broke through into the Maths class being held above.
‘So 3 multiplied by 12 …….. Good God it’s a diplodocus’ exclaimed Mr Peters.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay long in Mr Peter’s class, as my head was crashing through into Mrs May’s foundation year on the floor above. As my head appeared, Mrs May promptly dived for cover under her desk, leaving her pupils to fend for themselves.
Poor Millie Seymour peed her pants.
But I was headed for higher things, literally, as I eventually cracked through the roof tiles and out into the fresh air, sending tiles clattering down on to the pavement below. I must admit to being a little disappointed. It was raining heavily. Why is the weather always awful when awesome things happen?


~ by envisioningutopia on September 27, 2012.

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