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06/02/03: Guess what? I actually dated "Mary" for a week, but fortunately for me, it was a complete disaster. If you're still not sure who these people are, I will provide you with two hints: 1) The top line in the Men Without Hats lyric was, until now, garbled due to a mistake with "Find and Replace" back in 2000. 2) I use Alt + 0235 to type "Melissa's" name.

12/24/00: I never thought I'd have to drag this article back up out of the bilge again. Apparently three of the people in the Prom limo party mentioned below are expressing extreme displeasure at their inclusion and portrayal in this essay. (Funny that they're only getting wind of it a year and a half after the fact, but anyway...) The names "Mary", "Paul", and "Melissa" are not real; they replace the full names of the real people I discuss here. "Mary" and "Melissa" are especially mad, especially since "Mary" read the article to "Melissa".

And can I say something here? Is it too much to say someone got cranky or abused a limo service? My God, these people are touchy. In fact, "Mary" wanted me to take down the entire article at one point, a demand that I feel to be completely out of line. Further to this - since she asked me so nicely - they're all getting only a token apology.

While I'm here violating my journalistic principles, I should also add that Devon was upset that I said Mike Truzac dumped her off at Safe Grad. I apologize (from the heart) to Devon and Mike for my insensitivity in this matter. The real situation was that she wanted to dance all night, while Mike preferred to hang around out on the verandah. Nothing wrong with that. I should also applaud Devon for not threatening legal action.

Sleeping in the Solarium

Perhaps I should say something about Crosswinds, since this is my first essay written for my new location. It rules. Best free hosting you can get on the web for free. I mean, look I use like six layers of subdirectories, I have unlimited space here, and best of all... NO ADS!! They're just great!

(This essay is very much open architecture, so if I remember something or receive a fantastic suggestion, I'll be sure to put it in here someplace.)

Chapter I - Prologue
Chapter II - Pre-Prom
Chapter III - Prom
Chapter IV - Safe Grad
Chapter V - Boring Grad
Chapter VI - Grade 10 & 11 Grad
Chapter VII - Post-Grad
Chapter VIII - Thank God This Essay Is Almost Over

Chapter I - Prologue

            Let's see now... $68, $28, $108, $30, $23... well that comes to $257. Not too bad considering it was for... wait, I forgot the tickets... $20, $4... that makes it $281. $281 is all Prom Night cost me in terms of money, which pales when compared to the emotional toll it took out on me. There was however, a Highlight to the Evening, which I will describe for you as time permits.
            I guess the best and funniest way to go over it for you is chronologically. The whole thing started way way way back in December when we had the Semi-Formal Dance. I was there like I always was for dances this year, to my suprise I found I rather enjoyed the things. Anyway, I happened to run into Devon Day just when it was over, and given that: a) She was looking as beautiful as ever and b) I was so hyper I was suspected of being under the influence of sodium pentothal, I remarked rather loudly that I would have asked her out if I wasn't there helping out. Needless to say, she was at a loss for words and I'm glad she didn't actually say much of anything that was on her mind, because if she did, I would be so guilty I wouldn't ever say anything again.
            Anyway, over the next six seconds I began to entertain the thought of asking her out to the Prom (Why not? She's only six rungs up the social ladder from you!), and thus began an entertaining three months in which I made 32,768 attempts to talk to her, most of them ending up with me darting away at speeds approaching that of the Pronghorn.
            I'm sure glad I wasn't born here, because if I was, this could have gone on for four years or more. Mike Truzac finally put a stop to the insanity for me by asking her out around the end bit of March. To make things more ridiculous, Tyson H. informed me of his intentions days before, and to top it all off Mike told me to go ahead and ask her if I was the least bit interested the morning of the day he asked her.
The following paragraph has been adjusted for the 640X480 species.
            Of course I did make one final pitiful attempt to ask her out, which came hazardously close
to the point where I might have actually said "HiDevon,areyouinterestedingettingadatetotheProm?
Imean" THUD, I collapse due to lack of oxygen. The only element that kept me from asking her was the Idiot Squad, commonly referred to as "Christina McDonald's friends":

            ME: So... uh, hi Devon! How are... uh, things?
            DEVON: Oh fine! I-
            MIKE MCPHERSON: So hey Will, what do you think of Devon? Would you bonk her?

            And so on. I had to leave. And at the end of the day, it was too late. I cried for seven minutes and almost missed my bus.
            Enter Plan 'B': Ask someone I don't have a desperate crush on. My first choice had plans to visit her grandmother. The next six's parents forbade it. One was scheduled for reconstructive jaw surgery.
            And just when it seemed hopeless, I uncovered Plan 'C': Ask anyone with the one quality I desire most in a woman: (she's breathing)

            ME: Hi, I'm desperate for a date to the Prom! Are you interested in going?
            SARAH: Uh... I'm in grade 3, sir.

            Ha-ha! Just kidding! I hope! But eventually I did find a date. And then we agreed that I should go with Melissa as her jaw surgery got rescheduled. Fairly plain and simple, Crystal has a boyfriend and her parents... boy, is this going to suprise you or what? ...wouldn't let her go to Safe Grad. So now I had a date. And thanks to Mary and Paul , limo and dinner reservations even fell into my lap! The stage was set for... utter and total disappointment.
For the record "Sarah" is quite fictional, I made her up.

Chapter II - Pre-Prom

            I had a nightmare early on in exam week. It's hard to explain, but basically it was about me being more annoying to others than ever before, and finally Melissa rolled her eyes and told me that I just liked to hear myself talk and I was obsessed with my own thoughts. Then she and almost everyone she was acquainted with began ignoring me. At one point, they were all standing in a circle over the curb of the Concrete Yard / Parking Lot and there was someone dead in the center. I tried to ask what was wrong, but I was quickly accused of being an insensitive jerk, but somehow I don't even think they actually said anything to me, maybe it was what they were feeling. And I felt like an insensitive jerk. This trend continued somehow, and I lost all my friends, not to mention my Prom date.
            I told Melissa about this the next time I was talking to her and she told me she had a nightmare that same night! In her nightmare, we were at the Prom itself, and everyone was attempting to attack us. Melissa responded with "Buffy"-style fighting. I don't think she told me whether we got out alive or not, I didn't ask. Well, can you say 'bad omen'? At least I put most of it out of my mind, if I went to the Prom expecting bad things to happen, bad things invariably would happen.
            On to positive items now. I don't think anyone could ask for a better date than Melissa "Alt+0235" . For one thing, she's pretty funny, and for another, she got me a 'guilt gift' after I paid for everything. I think my Aunt, Grandparents Matheson, Grandparents Johnston, and my stepdad Paul deserve it more, as they helped fork up that $281 if you gather what I mean here.
            Next year I'm going to have a job.
            Luckily, I was able to pick up my tux from Scotia Tuxedo the day before. Now let me tell you something: If you're ever in the market for formal wear, go to Scotia Tuxedo on Sackville Drive. I came in the tuesday before and just said "I need a tux and I'm quite clueless as to how that stuff works" or something to that effect, and I got exactly the kind of outfit I wished for. The staff were helpful, friendly, and had a great sense of humor. I'd recommend the place in a blink.
            Anyway, Mom and I got the '88 Wagoneer Limited cleaned up and out, and before I knew it we were off to pick up Melissa for dinner reservations of 4:45. We drove up Highway 102 to Exit 5 and... well I'm not going to tell you where she lives, but I will tell you, by way of a hint, that she lives so far out in the sticks that they can't use 'TimHortenses' as a reliable and accurate measure of distance. We pulled in her driveway and we went inside. I'll skip the obvious stuff, but Melissa's mother and I really hit it off. She teaches English for summer school and she told me that she really liked teaching writers such as myself, but there were none for her class this year. I guess us writers usually pass English. We exchanged flowers, and Melissa really really liked her orchid. I really liked my boutiner too, it fit with my tux nicely. My tux was hurting for adornment, let me tell you. Without the red flower there, I looked like Shamrock Joe. Not that that is a bad thing! Any Irishmen out there can rest assured that I am Irish and am very authorized to make cracks like that, despite the fact that I'm a Matheson, we had the regional reunion at my house in PEI several years back and the Chief and his entourage attended, and that I sometimes wear a Matheson tie, I am very very Irish! Oy vey! Wait, that's Yittish... I mean, uh, I kissed the stone and got Blarney Fungus! Sayonara! You can put away your stampeding goats now.
            Now that my heritage is down Patrick, I'll continue with my story: We finally got underway again and we headed out of Fall River back into Nova Scotia. The 4:45 reservations were at Chinatown. We strolled in and met our dinner party, which consisted of a lot of people whose names I won't tell you. (unless you e-mail me and ask nice)
            Dinner was kind of bland and boring. The atmosphere was nice, though. Especially the jellyfish we saw in the water when the six of us in the party who were sharing a limo were out standing on the dock. There were like five per cubic meter at least! Crazy!
            At last the limo showed up. Let me tell you, the Wagoneer was much nicer and next year when I go to the Prom (I'm gonna be a returning grad ya know) I'm going to drive my date around in it. This is assuming of course, that my mother does not destroy it like she did with Paul's '87 Nisan King Cab 4X4. Of course it wasn't her fault or anything, she was driving on that fun twisty road out by the Airport that takes you out to East Hants (motto: "We're east of the 102!") on a day it was covered with black ice. It's a good thing she wasn't as far out in the sticks as Melissa's house is, or else she would still be rolled over in that ditch. Well, to get to the point here, the limo hadn't been cleaned out for a while. A "New Kids on the Block" tape was jammed in the cassette deck, if that's any indication. (j/k)
            Anyway, we started off for Paper Mill, all the while Mary complaining that we have to go out to Melissa's house to pick up her stuff and my stuff. To save valuable time, we took a simple, direct route to Paul's house:

The journey to Paul's house...
where we had a lot of pictures taken on the freshly sprinkled lawn. Melissa's feet got wet. That's one of the things in life that make it great to be a man, we get to wear practical clothing. =) Anyway, after meeting Paul's folks, we then journeyed to Mary's house:
The journey to Mary's house...
... so at that point we were a little more pressed for time, as you might imagine. We got out, had more picture time, then the four of us whom we shall identify as the People not Living in the Paper Mill Area wanted to get the hell back in the limo and on to Melissa's house where Melissa's mom had dessert waiting for us. However, this was not possible as Mary was too busy rounding up complete strangers off the streets and getting even more pictures taken.
            Eventually we started yelling at them and we got underway again. However, I had to do a little convincing to the driver that it wouldn't take that long to get to Melissa's house and tried to tell him the directions. So he was complaining and Mary was complaining and we had to keep pulling Julie back off the roof of the limo so it was a very stressful environment as you might imagine.
            When we got up to Melissa's, we could not stay for long, because by then it must have been nearly 8:30 and we were running really late. (Hint: Never plan an evening with Mary ...) Melissa and I grabbed our things and raced right back outside again. Now would be a good time to note that, among other items, I packed TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES FOR SAFE GRAD. I will be mentioning this regularly from now on because it makes me sound so cool.
            The next bit would have been kind of boring, so we'll skip it. Let's leave it at that one member of our party exhibited an uncanny ability to judge... uh, certain sizes of certain feminine things, if you gather what I mean here. Stimulating conversation ensued. Oh, and we passed the place where Ms. O'Leary was planning to hold her wedding reception. Nice to see that her and Craig Brown are finally tying the knot.

Chapter III - Prom

            Finally, we all arrived at CPA. Thirty-five minutes later, we actually went inside and I brought my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES FOR SAFE GRAD into the coat check. I got #13. Another omen. =)
            The Prom itself was a real sleeper. I think I might have spent like ten minutes inside the actual gym, mostly because the music selections stank and it was so hot that lead would have been a convenient liquid to use in a thermometer.
            To pass the time, we stuck with Adam Kidson, and his date Kristi, and another friend of mine who set them up, Edgar Sullivan. We had fun, really. We passed a lot of time just looking for each other. I also found another fun way to pass time: Why can't me and Melissa be Prom King and Queen? We didn't win, that's why. Scott Fraser and his date won. Instead of campaigning, I should have been dancing. I take those sort of things too personal.
            Speaking of dancing, I danced a grand total of two times. The first dance (my second ever) was with - boy, you're not even going to guess this! - my date. I don't even think I actually came close to a smooth, relaxed dance form, I was more in the neighborhood of "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto... Mata ah-oo hima de...". I think my back wrenched halfway through the song. (It wasn't "Mr. Roboto", by the way, it was a really really weeny slow song.)
            My second dance was even weirder. I was just standing around, like one does when one wanders into a crowd only to discover that everyone else is slow dancing and one realizes that one is very very much an idiot, when Brianna Courneya walks up and asks me if I'd like to dance. Of course I said 'yes'. And so there we are dancing, and I happen to see Beth MacQuarrie who I had been wanting to dance with for, say, the last four months or so, dancing with Brian Haas. And of course Brian and Brianna are really really good friends, so I suggested that we switch. Beth laughed nervously at that suggestion, so we kept things going the way they were...

            I will remember you...
            Will you remember me? ...
            I will remember you...
            Will you remember me? ...
            I will remember you...
            Will you quit this damn droning? ...

            And suddenly, BOOM! it was all over. The DJ was packing up. No balloons even! (Angela Stewart ate them all, in what I would consider a very close second to the biggest Highlight of the Evening, which I will tell you about if space permits.) Everyone stood around looking confused for several moments.

            "That was the last song??"
            "That was the song they picked??"
            "Why wasn't I dancing with my date??"
            "Someone get this broomstick outta here!"

            Ha-ha! Well, it sure was an anticlimax, to be sure! So Melissa and I walked downstairs and grabbed our things, including my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES. Hey! Joseph MacMillan showed up for Safe Grad! Yeaahh! Lucky him, he didn't have to change out of a tux or anything like the rest of us guys have to do in the washroom here... HOLY GUACAMOLE WOULD YOU SEE THE SIZE OF THE CROWD IN HERE!! This is like trying to change in a prison washroom except that prison washrooms tend to be somewhat cleaner! Well, I don't like trying to change in front of several Baltic Republics, so I went upstairs instead. And it took me so long to change out of my tux into one of my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES that I came within ten or fifteen minutes of missing the bus to...

Chapter IV - Safe Grad

            Boy, talk about adrenaline drop-off! I was the only one with any energy! Some people started singing heartwarming 'bus songs' like "The Wheels on the Bus":

            The wheels on the bus go round and round
            round and round
            round and round
            The wheels on the bus go round and round
            all the way to school

            The wheels on the child molester's car following the bus go round and round...

            ... so I decided to contribute my own Personal Favorite: "Ten Decillion Bottles of Beer on the Wall". It goes something like this:

            (p p p pop)

            Johnny and Jenny had a crazy dream,
            See their pictures in a magazine.
            Every little boy needs a girl.
            Pop Goes The World...

            Ha-ha! No, that is not what I meant! Here is the real song:

            Ten decillion bottles of beer on the wall
            Ten decillion bottles of beh-eeerr
            And take one down and pass it around
            Nine decillion, nine hundred ninety-nine nonillion, nine hundred ninety-nine octillion, nine hundred ninety-nine septillion, nine hundred ninety-nine sextillion, nine hundred ninety-nine quintillion, nine hundred ninety-nine quadrillion, nine hundred ninety-nine trillion, nine hundred ninety-nine billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall ... gasp!!

            People began clapping which was really mortifying. That's how you know you really annoyed them, they don't even bother with "SHUT THE F*** UP, WILL!!" anymore.
            And something much much more horrifying happened around then too, perhaps while I was changing. It became clear to me that I was dating two women over the course of the evening: Melissa and Cranky Melissa. I think Melissa went home to bed after the Prom was over, and left me with Cranky Melissa, who was about as enthused as a limp dish rag. There was nothing for me to do but hold onto my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES and enjoy the breeze coming in the window. I also dreamed of what it would be like at Safe Grad when we got there. The words 'Yacht Club' inspired me to think of a casual, yet elegant place with a pavilion, gazebos, a big lawn, and a dock that you could run out and sit on and look at the stars. There would be Karaoke, hey maybe even a campfire and of course that fun water gun fight that we would have outdoors. And the lawn would have large boulders in random spots that you could hide behind, and... well let me just say my imagination was drawing something like this:

Ahh... I could get to like this...
and so my expectations were getting higher and higher as we rolled down Trunk 7 (also known as 'God Help Us All If There's A Fire' Hill) into Dartmouth.
            The first sign for me that I would be slightly let down was that there were no Yachts to be seen anywhere. And it wasn't exactly the kind of neighborhood I was expecting either, I would feel more comfortable and at home in an off-track betting parlor. The buildings were built on such a low budget that all you saw for lettering was "BCC", "DCC", "NSTC", "NCAA", or "DC". And there were no Yachts. I felt like hitting myself on the head for even thinking that we would be going to an actual Yacht club as we pulled into the handy parking lot right next to a sewage outflow. We all got off, crossed a bridge, and went around the back, only to find... well I think the best mental image is 15,000 people trying to get into my grandmother's old house through the porch entry. It was not pretty, not pretty at all.
            Eventually I went in (one of the last), me and my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES and picked up my funny money. The lady just kept on giving me more as long as I was standing there... I must have got like 50. I gave it (the money) to Melissa and wondered when the Karaoke was going to be set up.
The real dirt.
            I don't know how much more text I need to subject you too after you looked at that. =) So let's be concise:

- 1/20,000th of a second after the festivities commenced, Mike Truzac dumped his date, Devon Day, to her own devices for the rest of the evening as she absolutely refused to leave the dance area, even unto the point where Amy had to bodily drag her out at 6:30am when it was time to leave.
- For some reason, the Karaoke was never set up.
- And the music that was being played was CHEESY... cheesier than the Prom music was... which was strange because it was the same comatose DJ we had back there. But it's just as well... Devon must have felt special having "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" played 32,000 times over.
- Due to the extreme lines, I didn't bother trying to eat anything until like 2... which would have been a great time to 'liven things up' a little with my awesome game idea: we got the party, the deck, and the water... let's play Weekend at Bernie's! Ya know, I think Mr. Farrow would have made a good 'Bernie'.
- After I told that 'joke' fifteen times, Greg Baker's headache remarked that it was 'old'. Whatever! I'm hyper, leave me alone!
- Two things made me un-hyper...
- The first was being constantly nailed by 'squirt and run' attacks... which was most annoying. I was not kidding when I wrote in 'arseholes with water guns'. I am not saying that there weren't people who were responsible with their guns... notably Ryan Loomis (who DOUSED Jeremy Strong and another person... more on that in a minute) and Nathan Craig who both fought viciously but honorably.
- The other thing was that all the male preps had gotten together on the deck under a... (dang, I don't know what they're called... but in a corner that was not illustrated on my comprehensive map because I forgot to put it in, I drew the thing in ink, and I was not about to do a second draft) well anyway, they were there belting out:

            Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'DOOBIES']

            Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'INTERSECTION']
            Got me going in the right direction...

            Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'REGINA']
            [I DON'T WANT TO KNOW]

... and I was like "those IDIOTS!!!" and they're not even drunk!! (more on that in another chapter) The sheer magnitude of their... stupidity was maddening.
- Anyhow, at some point I decided to join the water fight. Hey, I knew I was asking for it, but I had nothing else to do, and TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES. And boy, I had my few minutes of fun with my standard-issue Super Soaker 50 they lent me, and it was really fairly powerful if you knew what you were doing. I got a few people down on the battleground with 'douse-and-run' tactics... but, sadly, I ended up getting into a squirt fight with Beth MacQuarrie... not exactly what I wanted to have happen, but hey... And I ended up getting quite soaked myself, largely due to Ryan Loomis who had brought along one of the more advanced Super Soaker models that could be classified as Fire Department-issue if you gather what I mean here. BLLAAAMM!! I think he really enjoyed himself. Later, he told me that he got Mr. LeRoux really really bad. The vice-principal was harassing a few unfortunate people with the Super Soaker 25-sized guns (but unlike the real SS25, these guns had a distance of three feet and had a tendency to leak a lot) with his Super Osaka 50... just dousing them again and again and laughing his head off, so Ryan sneaks up behind him with his Super Osaka 500 filled with hot water, aims for the small of Mr. LeRoux's back, and... BLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!! parts of his shirt were on the Air Mountain.
- Now if only people like Ryan or Nathan or Kendra Bergman (whom I, sadly, was not fighting at the same time with, I think we would have happily given each other a bad case of hypothermia) had the guns, bad things wouldn't happen much. But something bad happened to Julie Brownell, whom you may recall I referred to her in essays #1, #2, and #12-A as having one lone kernel of candy corn for a brain. (Yet another line ripped from Dave Barry...) I was of course kidding, and I wouldn't make bad jokes like that about anyone now, especially enemies-turned-friends! Well, someone who really does have candy corn for brains decided that someone sitting way off away from the traffic perhaps trying to sleep was a Fair Target and BLAM! I don't know what she did to him, if anything, but I hope it was something bad.
- All these people getting soaked gave me quite a few special conversational opportunities: "Say, you're pretty soaked? Did you bring a change of clothes?" And they'd say 'no', then I'd say "Well I came prepared for everything, I brought along TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES!", and I'd say it like I was the smartest person in the Known Universe. That was fun, but nowhere nearly as fun as the Highlight of the Evening, which I will discuss as soon as space permits.
- Mr. Burke came along eventually and started a sing-along in the corner mentioned earlier. Still, it was no substitute for the Karaoke as Mr. Burke did not know Our Favorite Classics such as "Mr. Roboto" or "Safety Dance". But he did have an incredible repertoire of music, and he saved Safe Grad from being a total bummer. He also refused to play stupid songs like "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" or the "[INTERSECTION] Song".
- On the subject of total bummer, let me also mention that we weren't allowed to go swimming! (Except for Colin MacDonald and Craig Brown who are above the laws that affect us mere mortals...) I wouldn't have gone in of course, if only for the simple fact that I did not want my Final Graduation Memories to include having 'sweet tits!' shouted at me Once Again. But I would have liked to watch other people (translation: hot girls) swim and that opportunity sadly did not present itself.
- At some point, it was time to leave. On the bus out, I remarked to Ryan Mee that it would be very funny if someone got left behind after all the Administration's efforts to count heads, and he disagreed with me. Also, Nancy Corbett laughed at something funny I said but out of context, I can't remember what it was.
- You can tell I'm really pulling at straws trying to finish this chapter.
- Breakfast was really neat. We got to serve ourselves, and there were bagels, croissants, fruits, juices, you name it! I sat with Ed, Adam, Kristi, and Melissa (who left again... still quite cranky), and we told jokes to each other and everything. So I guess we had fun.
- MISSY: He won it fair and square!
- MS. DOMPIERRE: Now, if you'd care to sit for just a few more moments-
  (sound of chairs being moved - everyone leaves)
- I suppose I should tell you about the Highlight of the Evening. Well, I had a nice chat with Ryan about water guns, and with Cassandra about why everything was so disappointing.
- Then mom came and took me and Melissa home.
- And when she took me home, she expected me to drive out to Sackville to drop off my tux myself. I wasn't able to until like 6:00, resulting in a long argument over the phone.
- All this paves the way for the next chapter...

Chapter V - Boring Grad

            I missed the grad rehearsal, and if it wasn't for Greg Baker informing on the stuff I missed, I would have been quite the ignorant yahoo. As it was, I was just the yahoo.
            So as not to spoil sales of the ceremony video, I won't tell you anything else except it was boring. And the singers had guts. Especially Jill Matthews. Oh, and according to the program, I was receiving High Honours and a French Immersion Certificate. Ha-ha! Wouldn't that have been funny?
            Speaking of funny, I have to wonder why Ms. Quinlan limited her response to people not being there to 'in absentia'. Why couldn't she be a bit more creative... "well looks like she got wasted last night..."? And those stupid hats itched like crazy and it was hot, and... well, you get the idea here.
            One thing that made this day Unforgettable: "Weird Al" Yankovic's Running With Scissors came out!! This album is sooo cool!!

Chapter VI - Grade 10 & 11 Grad

            Yeahhh! This was more fun! We were all stuffed into the gym, chatting amongst ourselves, et cetera, and once in a while someone near us would get up, go to the front and come back, and all the while we'd be clapping. Of course some people, like Alexander Munck, had the audacity to go back to their own countries and miss picking up their awards, which made it embarrassing when I yelled "Yeah, Alex!!" very very loudly. Of course we were all so hyper that we were prepared to cheer for Tupperware cake transporters, so I wasn't really upset. This essay has been going on for waayyy too long.
            I also said something incredibly superly funny as a response to something one of the teachers was saying, and everyone in the vicinity laughed really really hard but I forget what it was now!

Chapter VII - Post-Grad

            Loneliness. Well, I did entertain the notion of going to Will Brayley's party, so I phoned him up at six and had the following conversation before even 6pm:

            ME: Hello? Is Will Brayley there?
           MARK LOUCH: Hey, who is this?
           ME: Will Matheson.
           MARK: Oh, hi! (Begins to explain party details.)
           TYSON H. (in the background): Uhhjj... who is that??
           MARK: It's Will!
           TYSON: But Will's right here... uaggghhh!
            (Sound of glass breaking.)
           MARK: Hey, you wanna talk to Will?
           ME: Sure!
           WILL: Who is it?
           MARK: Will Matheson!
           WILL: Who??
           MARK: Will Matheson!!
           WILL: Oh... (picks up phone)
           BRIAN HAAS: Who was that again... erghh...
            (Sounds of whooping and screaming.)
           WILL: Hey Will! You're more than welcome to come over! Do you know where my house is?
           ME: Well up to Exit 5 on the 102, sort of. Towards (name of teacher)'s?
           WILL: Exactly! Oh, you do know this is a drinking party, right?
           ME: Of course! Oh, anything you need me to bring?
           WILL: Are you drinking?
           ME (in a tone I would use if accused of being a serial killer): No, of course not!
           WILL: Okay, then just bring yourself-
            (Loud thumping noises.)
           TYSON: Hey, who is that on the ph- Blearggghhhh!
           WILL: WILL MATHESON!!
           DEVON: Hey put this on!
            (Sound of "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" playing at 107689278657db)
           ME: Uh... okay. I might go, but-
            (Sound of approaching sirens.)
           ME: - I dunno. Thanks anyway.
           WILL (hurredly): Sure. Bye!

... so, not wanting my First Party Experience to be imperfect, I opted not to attend. Instead, I drove into downtown Bedford and picked up some DQ stuff for myself, my mom, and my stepbrother ("$40! Wow, I could almost buy three Blizzards for that!"), and all in all I think I was happy with my decision until Amy Kikuchi told me she got drunk, which I think would be something to see. I think she wouldn't need to take in as much as, say, Devon Day.

Chapter VIII - Thank God This Essay Is Almost Over

            Well, I think that's it for my CPA essays. (This one may be revised numerous times as I remember things to add.) Aside from the completion of "Sages of Time", I think I'm going to leave this site to history now. The next big thing you'll likely see from me is something I'd dub as a "Contemporary Fantasy Novel", loosely based on that Nintendo novel I was writing in grade 10 and 11. Or maybe I'll finish that... if I can find it again! =) Or maybe I'll get that dream job working for a tabloid newspaper. Who knows what the future holds?
            Thanks to everyone for visiting and reading. When I make up a new literary site for non-CPA things, rest assured it will be close at hand to http://surf.to/will. Have a nice day!

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