Shoes and Ducks

Hello! I'm back! Did you miss me? Don't answer that question, I know you didn't. What an interesting few days I've had. You would think that days spent going on strike would be lazy, BUT THEY'RE NOT! I have gone to revision classes, leveled up by two levels in Rusty Hearts, scanned in a page of 'Future Talk' and murdered a shoe.
   I will talk about the shoe here. In one of my classes, there was a fire alarm that went off while I was in the middle of work. And by work, I mean me messing about on the computer. So naturally, we followed the procedure of wandering into a giant field filled with killer fog. (It's a killer because it eats buses and people when we are not looking. How else does the human population stay down?) This field was wet and muddy, so it was expected that something would happen to people's shoes. It just happened to be mine.
   At the end of class, I walked up to the front of the class to return my laptop when I noticed something iffy with my shoe. I looked down to realize that half of it was torn off (I'm telling you, the killer fog got me!).
   I went up to the teacher with a rather blank face and asked for staples for my shoe.
   Knowing that I was going to staple it right through some seriously good leather, he decided to use superglue instead. He also knew that I did not have the patience to press down on the shoe for very long and I would probably go to the blow torch to speed things up. (We do actually have one in the department to bend metal.) So it was that he told me that, to hold the shoe in place, he would stick my shoe in a vice for ten minutes.
   This normally would be just fine, except that the colour of my socks was the complete opposite of my shoe colour. Plus, there were people in my class.
   I just whistled and took a seat in the front of my class and put my feet on the table, talking to these people. Heck, I found their odd looks funny and I would give them vague answers to their questions about my missing shoe. (Naturally, this led to one question being answered but left many more to breed. Yes, questions breed.)
   Eventually, after ten minutes, I went to collect my shoe and then my lunch before going upstairs and spreading the word to my friends.
   Also, why were people quacking in the corridor? What's up with ducks? They realise that some people with a lower IQ than most will think they are ducks in disguise and start tossing bread at them. Better yet, bored people (like me) will take out a rifle and start shooting them saying:
   "IT'S DUCK SEASON!!!" Before hunting them throughout the school separating the smart and the dead. Run, duckies, run! I've been given a gun!

Signing off!
Rinrei