“The
Grocery Store”
Do you want to travel to new places? Do you want to meet
interesting people? Do you
want
to waste half of your money on stuff you don’t need? Then go to your local
grocery store!
When you arrive at your store, we always make sure that you
take the personal tour of the outside of the building. In other words, looking
for a parking spot for fifteen minutes.
Once you finally find a spot at the back and hike uphill to
the store, your fellow shoppers will leave a special cart for your convenience.
The one with the broken wheel.
After you stop trying to fix the wheel for another fifteen
minutes, you can enjoy all of the wonderful products your store has to offer.
Such as the Produce Section, where you’re never sure if anything is ripe.
Perhaps you’re even brave enough to try the International Section. We recommend
you taste the flavors of the world at your own home. Our bathrooms are
disgusting enough.
When you’re finished shopping, you can use
self-checkout—arguing with the machine—or try to make conversation with a
stranger at the regular checkout.
After you find that your total is $210, you can pull out of
the parking lot and wait for the bad driver in front of you to get out of the
way.
Finally, when you get home we are certain that you will feel
the same as if you got home from a vacation. Comfortable, relaxed, and too
exhausted to unpack.
“Gives
Slashers A Prize”
By
Karoleigh Hummer
I was sitting down with my family to watch some horror
movies. I’m an adrenaline junkie, so this stuff gives me an all time high. As
I’m watching, though, I can’t help but think, “Man, I wish I could give Michael
Myers a medal for dealing with all of this idiocy!”
Now, it may seem like I’m biased. I am. I’ve always liked
villains more, with their cool outfits and witty comebacks. But people in
horror movies are just so utterly dumb, it makes me think they live in a world
where horror movies aren’t a thing! It drives me up a grave!
What irritates me most is when the protagonist is looking
behind them while they’re being chased. Hello? You don’t need to see the
danger, you can hear it sprinting towards you! That’s why you ran, right? You
don’t stop running until you encounter a group of civilians, a gas station, or,
better yet, a police station!
Another thing that irks me is when the protagonist is
beating the killer into the ground- disappointing, but okay- and they stop.
Why? Beat them like a cockroach! You don’t stop until their vital organs are
damaged beyond repair, don’t pause for the angst!
And another thing; don’t, and I beg of this, don’t split up!
Just no! The killer will kill you off one by one, you air-headed fools! This is
why I’m a Pennywise cheerleader, because of you and your club, Billy!
“The
Lunchroom”
By
Rylee Soles
There are many different things that
happen in a High School lunchroom. Trust me, I one-hundred percent know what
I’m talking about. I have been sitting in the lunchroom for about eight months,
and I've seen some stuff. Everywhere you look is something different to see.
You have people having breakdowns, people studying, people sharing gossip, and
people laughing and sharing jokes. Out of all of these different groups of
people, there is always one person that goes from group to group trying to make
people laugh. Usually, this person thinks that they are the funniest person to
walk the planet, but they are not funny at all. They tell outdated and overused
jokes, and they die laughing, but you just smile and hope that they will
finally leave you alone. They never leave you alone, they love bothering you
with their terrible jokes. One day I started to get my hopes up. I thought
“Hopefully today they might actually have a good joke.” Then my hopes got
crushed, because they asked me “Why did the chicken cross the road.”
By
Ava Jenkins
“Rj , could you please shut up. That
old athletic piece of crap doesn't even know who you are. And the stuff you're
saying aren't even good things, you're literally criticizing him!”
“He may not know who I am but I
surely know who he is. He is the most chocolate, most athletic, most handsome
basketball player there is. One day I am going to take his wife’s place, and
it’s going to be the best day of my life.’
Hi, my name is Anyla and as you can
tell, my brother is obsessed with an old man. He doesn't stop talking about
him, and if you haven’t figured it out by now, he is talking about LeBron
Raymone James Sr. Yes, I know his full government name, and what about it? Who
wouldn't know his whole name when your eight-year old brother’s a fein for him.
Anyways, that beside the point, my brother is also a meme demigod. He loves
memes and when he learns one he doesn’t stop saying it.
“Hey Anyla, you heard the storm last
night? The thunder said ‘B-B-Boom’” He said.
“I don't really care!” I told him.
But, yes, you guessed right it's a LeBron meme, but trust it gets worst
Anyways, I love my little brother to
death but he is going to have to stop with the LeBonB– I mean, the LeBron
jokes. Maybe then girls will like him.
“The Streets”
By Austin Smith
Up in Atlanta, GA there are problems with the streets. The
first thing that comes to mind is road rage. Let's say you take too long to
turn. Well, people will get mad and either T bone you or turn you into a
vehicle doing quite a few barrel rolls. Since people get angry really quick I
normally would play with their nerves. Let's say I’m at a stop sign. If I get
there first and someone arrives at the other side right after me I will make
them think I’m letting them go. Normally I'll get a few horns blown at me but
in Atlanta it's a whole different story. If I even wanted to do this in Atlanta
I would have to have bulletproof glass.
Atlanta also has street fights. These fights are basically
free drama and action shows right out your window. Not to mention most of these
fights aren't fair. Not too long ago I was at a red light and looked through my
window and saw yellow tape. Now it looked like some person went on a massacre
but it probably was just a dude who got jumped and fought them off with a box
cutter.
Drug addict quarrels are the funniest. Most of the time the
arguments are about needles. Sometimes they will take action. One time I was driving through Atlanta and
saw one homeless man on cloud nine getting stripped for his clothes.
“Film Bros”
By Ricky Morales
I went to watch ‘Mickey 17’ by Bong Joon Ho in theaters last
week. Now, let me ask when you last went to the cinema? Even for people who
like movies, it feels like centuries ago.
I went out to see this lovely motion picture,
and I left thinking it would be a sure blockbuster hit. Call me an optimist and
then shank me down on the sidewalk.
Seventeen million, seventeen million
was the gross opening. Maybe I'm a cultist, or maybe I'm a crazy stalker fan.
On my grave, I could have sworn the movie had everything going for it.
Of course, I started comparing opening weekends. Color me
shocked when I saw that the “new” (isn’t it all just the same?) Captain America
movie made nearly quintuple the amount of my (I’m very defensive about this)
movie. I’m going to quintuple the amount of holes in my walls. I’m gonna tell
you now; it already ain’t pretty.
I truly believe that all art
deserves to be made, but when a sequel of a pre existing franchise wins over a
new idea, maybe I draw the metaphorical line. I don’t even hate Captain
America!
And when I turn on my phone, I see
“film bros” (cinephiles? It’s all the same to me.) ranting about, “Oh, there
are just no new movies releasing!” Who is to say why they got doxxed? And who
is to say that my simple soul doesn’t die inside just that bit more.
“Fire
Drills”
By
Ian Foskey
Fire drills are always interesting
especially when a lightning strike two days prior fries the circuitry and it
flashbangs us before we say the pledge, and because of it we would never say
the pledge, and before my day has started. No one was expecting it, not even
the wonderful ordatorium lady. Who was about to start the pledge but then the
fire drill, for seemingly no reason at all, decides that now is the time for it
to be heard and starts blaring, loud and proud, and doesn’t end until ten whole
minutes later. I wasn’t ready to learn and I certainly wasn’t ready to have my
ears audibly assaulted by that awful harmony of the fire drill. Then in third
period it starts whining again as if we didn’t hear it the first time and yet
again no one was expecting it, but that time we didn’t even get up from our
seats. Gladly that was the last time it happened, and our days went back to the
normal flow of things. But all that havoc caused by one lightning strike two
days prior which resulted in an aggravated assault by the fire alarm unto me, because
I was assaulted and aggravated because of it.
“Mighty
Eagle”
By
Tyce Garrett
I once heard a story about a bird named George. George was at one point a mighty eagle. I think he really still was, just without any mightiness. Well, anyway George was flying around looking for a spot to build a large nest, and he spotted smoke. He took the fifteen second trek, and he was right over the fire. He smelt all kinds of meat. The smell overpowering his not so mighty will. George fell right out of the sky onto some soft dirt around the fire. He started waddling towards the roasting animals. He couldn’t wait to enlarge his already oversized belly. At the fire, George plucked a small pig off the spit and started chomping down. Once George finished eating the pig, he grabbed a roasting rabbit, and ate it in three bites. George kept eating until there was no food cooking over the fire. George waddled his way to one of the camping chairs and climbed in. He fell asleep within minutes, but he was awoken by the sound of footsteps. Immediately he was scared because he was the one who ate all of the food, so he started flapping his wings to escape. George was so heavy he could barely lift off the ground. The humans spotted him, and knew he had eaten the food because of his enormous size. George was still trying to fly away. They say it took 20 bullets to take him down, but they turned him into a delicious dinner.
“Stickers”
By William Arnold
For those of you who do know what stickers are, it's
important to know where they came from. Stickers are no naturally occurring
thing. The thing about stickers is that they were made in an attempt to make
children wear shoes outside. Ten thousand years ago when cave-men, cave-women,
and cave-children roamed the earth. Sandals were a new concept, and the
cave-adults realized how important it was to wear shoes, but the cave-children
did not. For this reason the evil cave-parents invented stickers. With stickers
everywhere the cave-children would be forced to wear their shoes, and thus the sticker
was born.
“Mr.
Young”
By
Raidan Black
Boy oh boy, where do I begin. “Mr.
Young,” they call him. The meanest, worst, least funny teacher on the
two-thousand hall. He refuses to teach anything, always handing out packets.
All he does is sit at his desk and play Candy Crush on his phone. I can’t think
of a single day that he has ever gotten up to teach the class, or even read a
story to us. Candy Crush can’t be so important that you have to leave your
class to do nothing all day. He’s only on level 300. It can’t take that long to
get there. He can’t even find the time in his day to dress properly. He’s
always in a hoodie and sweatpants with his black Nike slides that you can hear
slapping the ground as he walks. His hair is always outgrown and undone. I
don’t think he’s gotten a haircut this whole year. He doesn’t even care when
his students have their phones in his class. He has no rules against it,
doesn’t have a rolling set of phone pouches, and nobody has ever gotten in
trouble for having their phone around him. Worst of all, he’s never funny. I
don’t think there is a single funny bone in his body. The last time I laughed
in his class must have been years ago. Maybe if he could lay on his stomach
with his feet in the air like a little girl reading her favorite book, that
might be funny.
“Wes Kaczynski: America’s Next Threat”
By Jed Ledbetter
I am almost fully convinced that our
first period English teacher is one psy-op away from mailing bombs to logging
executives. I’m willing to bet he’s already tried his hand at monkeywrenching.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense, and the idea is quite
frightening.
Mr. Young lives out of the way in a
small country home with lots of woods on his property. If he could maintain
secrecy from his family (assuming they aren't in on it too) would give him all
the space he needs for tinkering and manufacturing all sorts of harmful
mechanisms
He is most certainly smart enough.
The last Unabomber was an intellectual and a Harvard graduate. Mr. Young is not
a Harvard graduate, but I’m certain an avid reader such as him would have
studied Ted’s trilogy.
Not only does he have the means, but
he has a motive. He becomes visibly angry at the mention of clear-cuts. When he
told us the story about how his childhood forest got cut down, he had to hold
himself to his desk in order to keep himself from having a breakdown. The whole
thing looked rather painful. He holds it as the equivalent to murder, and all
it would take is a little tweak in his psyche to get him to act upon it.
To whom it may concern: please don’t
be the last straw. The fate of greedy CEOs and unsuspecting professors rely on
you.
“Cats”
By
Lucy Herrington
Cats are the worst pets people can choose, and they will never be better than a good ole dog. I have only ever met one nice cat, Shumunda, and even she has her limits. Cats sit around doing nothing all day then harass people when they walk in the door. People say all the time, “Well she is nice to me.” Maybe I hate cats because I’ve never found one that likes me. Either way, my facts are right. They’re mean, they are fat, and they find joy in tormenting me.
My friend has a cat named Moe. Yes,
as is the old thing that used to terrorize kids online, Mo Mo. This cat acts
nice to get you to pet him, but the second he is tired of you is when he
strikes. Now he knows that I know his tricks, so he does not even try to put on
a nice front. Not to mention, he is huge. This cat weighs as much as my dog,
and he is no little dog. Cats also do not even play fetch. My dog, although not
very good at it, plays fetch. It is the most basic game, and cats just stand
there acting like I’m the stupid one. Just go get the toy. Cats are terrible
pets, and they are far inferior to dogs.
“Cookies”
By Kensley Duffey
When you go to the grocery store you
get what your heart desires, mostly, right? I went the other day and picked up
my favorite chocolate chip cookies, and looked at the nutrition facts. I saw it
said “serving size 4 cookies” when it comes with about 382 serving sizes! Well
I guess some feral people have no self control, not including myself, of
course. Needing the serving size to tell them “woahhh buddy, slow down” I
bought the other things I needed, went home, unpacked, and sat down to eat some
chocolate chip cookies. I realized, only when I went to reach into the box,
there were none left. Maybe I should read the label more often because I guess
idiots like me have no self control. I think I’ll stick to not listening to the
serving size because those double chunk chocolate chip cookies sure did taste
real good.
“The
Project Guy”
By
Zoey Adams
All day as I sit at my desk, I hear “Boom, boom, boom.” This
is odd to me how a regular human named, Lebron, makes high schoolers obsessed
with him. They find a way to include it in every conversation. Maybe this is
being hypocritical as I am literally writing about him at this moment. However,
we did a project over poetry the other day and Lebron somehow managed to find
his way to be the project. Yes, he was literally the project. Let me explain.
We had to do word art about a poem over a castle and king. Somehow, Lebron who
had nothing to do with the poem got twisted into the project. The word art
turned out to be a drawing of Lebron. One thing I absolutely can not forgive
Lebron for is ruining my favorite lullaby. I mean seriously, how do you manage
to ruin a lullaby? Now everytime my mom sings to me, “You Are My Sunshine,” I
sigh and think of Lebron. I will never understand how he is so popular among
adolescents. I guess they just can’t resist a big, middle aged man dribbling a
basketball.
“Wyoming”
By Aaron Warnock
I’m more or less an experienced traveler. I’ve seen most of
the U.S. and London, England or Georgia. One thing I’ve noticed in my travels,
aside from car arrangements, is how similar Wyoming and the south are.
We love hunting; country kids obsess over the deer they
catch.
“I caught a thirteen pointer, how about you?”
People in Wyoming hunt so much that they only count the
points on one antler. We love cowboy hats and country music. Everyone owns a
cowboy hat, but few people wear them, except in Texas. In Wyoming, you will see
a minimum of five guys in cowboy hats at any gas station.
We love gun rights in the south. Whether love for hunting
caused the second amendment obsession or the other way around is still a
mystery. The army recruiter, after no one is interested in the ROTC program,
recruited 20 guys when he mentioned that you can get your concealed carrier
licence early if you join. In Wyoming the gas stations replaced the candy
counter with an ammunition counter. They don’t even lock it up, probably because
any thief would get shot by the clerk while they try to get away. Fancier gas
stations have gun stores instead of gift shops.
Finally Wyoming is
rural. Now imagine if we get several small towns in our area and stretch it
into a state. Then add Warner Robins and turn Dodge County into a giant gas
station. That is Wyoming.
“High
School”
By
Makya Menges
High school is definitely something!
What it isn’t, however, is the absolute horror movie my middle school teachers
set it out to be. They made it seem like there would be prison cells for
students to stand in during class, evil teachers that would make us grovel and
scramble to the floor when answering a question wrong, and a curriculum so
advanced not even a genius with the brain the size of a boulder would
understand! They had me mortified.
However, here I am, almost entirely
through my freshman year. There are no cells in the classrooms, no evil
supervillain teachers, and no curriculum of agony and despair. The only thing
I’ve genuinely had to worry about recently was Mr. Young doing the Irish jig on
his desk. By the way, it wasn’t even 9:00 in the morning. Ironic, isn’t it?
Something I was so terrified of ended up being the most unserious thing in the
world.
Lately, I’ve been convinced my high school life has been a
fever dream. Just last week, a random guy poked my shoulder and asked me if I’d
believe him if he said he was a dog. He then proceeded to get on all fours and
stick his tongue out in the air.
I would’ve never expected these were the situations and
experiences I’d have to go through. I guess not everything is ever as serious
as it’s said to be. High school especially.
“Double-U”
By
Presley Daniel
What idiot with a literal sense of, well, everything, decided to call a “W”, double-u? I mean seriously, we’ve got a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,j,k,l,m,n,o,p,q,r,s,t,u,v,W,x,y, and z. Why did double-u get dubbed with the unoriginal name?
Half the time the letter is written
as two inverted “J’s” or two “V’s”. This would be in handwriting, of course. I
mean, the name “Upside Down M” could be more fitting and less degrading than
double-u.
Come on, it’s one of the biggest
letters and then it gets tagged with its name. A “U” is practically irrelevant
as the rules of the English language (except when using a “q”, of course).
Except, again, in the occasion where it doesn’t follow a “q”. I can’t think of
a specific example for this currently, but I guarantee there is one…it’s the
English language after all.
Anywho, we should all vote to change
double-u’s name. Maybe “Upside Down Mcdonald’s logo” would suffice. Mcdonald’s
is a multi billion dollar company, people. I think double-u and Mcdonal’s
deserve each other. I really do. It’s got a nice ring to it: Upside Down
Mcdonald’s logo, x,y, and z.
“Motivational Speakers”
By Caleb Foskey
As a baseball player, I have always laughed at someone
trying to be a motivational speaker. I get it. They are trying to hype everyone
up. But in reality, they make themselves look stupid and make other people
laugh at them at the same time. For example, our coach played a video talking
about how we should be, “alpha males” on the baseball diamond. Everybody was
trying their best not to laugh because we knew there would be consequences if
we did.
Sadly, it gets worse when your own
teammate tries to motivate the team. It’s like a genetic code or something.
Some people are really good at it, and some people definitely don’t. We all
know that one person who hits your team with the classic, “Guys, coach is
right” phrase. And really the only thing you can do is sit there and try not to
laugh because you do not want to hate on your teammate. It stinks even more
when they don’t know they are sounding stupid and they just keep rambling on.
That’s why they let the coaches speak instead of the players.
I guess the moral of the story is
don’t try to be a motivator unless you know you are good at it. Because in
reality, you are making yourself look dumb in front of the whole team. Just let
the coach do the talking because no one is going to laugh at him when he talks.
“Bad
Spirits in Sports”
By
Edwynn Wallace
One thing I have never understood is watching sports. I
really do not get it. You sit there on a sticky metal stadium seat—the kind
that makes you wonder if weed suddenly became legal worldwide overnight. With a
couple on one side of you talking with just their tongues and a dead-beat dad
on the other with enough Bud-Lite to light up the entire stadium. You know, I
think more alcohol has been drunk by divorced men during baseball games and
football games (both kinds of football for my Belgium readers) than those guys
ever drank during their college years. And that's why most of them are dads in
the first place. You get more out than what you put in, is what I like to say.
But honestly, why does alcohol affect men to make the worst decisions? On
weekdays it makes them get DUI’s, on Saturdays it makes them pay the bill on
dates, and on Sundays it makes them watch ESPN.
By
Layna Davis
Fire drills are always at inconvenient times. Whether it's in the middle of a lesson or when saying the pledge of allegiance. That's what happened today; we heard the alarm and waited. For what, I’m not sure. Maybe to see if there actually was a fire or if we follow instructions and not panic. Heading outside it was chilly as we lined up and faced towards the building. That always perplexed me, why would we look at the burning building? Maybe they wanted us to see the school burn down, then we waited while the alarm went off. It had us wondering if it was an actual fire or someone wanting to get out of class. We later filed back in disappointed to go back inside, but never in Mr. Young's class. In that class it never disappoints, even when writing.
They teach you these drills from a
young age thinking of all the things that might not actually happen. Expecting
us to stay calm and collected when in danger--crazy! Outside goofing off while
a potential fire engulfs the school: what a strange thing! But, ”Life be like
that,” as Mr. Young says. A serious thing could be made funny if at the right
time. In this case it was the pledge of allegiance, how very American of us.
There was afterall a benefit to this drill and that was I had something to
write about for english class.
“Alarming
Awakening”
By
Sydney Bullows
Have you ever seen a classroom
filled with high schoolers in the morning? The majority of the people present
in that room are still half asleep, the only exception being those who are asleep. It can be difficult to fully
wake up on the morning of a school day, so what better than an audial jumpscare
combined with bright flashing lights to wake you up? That’s what happened to
our class just a few days or so ago. There wasn’t a single person — not even
the teacher — who didn’t get frightened by the fire alarm going off at such a
random time.
As for anyone who wasn’t woken up by the audio based
assault, the cold temperatures outside were more than enough to resolve their
problem. Staying out there for even 30 seconds would have been enough to wake
everyone up, yet we were out there for somewhere between five and ten minutes,
which isn’t a lot but it felt like an eternity as we waited for the fire alarm
to end, and for us to be told we could come back into the school. Witnessing
the speed that people were moving into the building as soon as we were allowed
back in, you would have thought a horror movie killer was chasing them, as I
don’t think I’ve ever seen the majority of those people move anywhere near that
fast before.
“You’ve
Got Mail”
By
Stella Greene
When prompted, “What color hair do your parents have?” you
should always reply with, “The same as my own.” Otherwise, the public will
begin to form opinions on your family’s lineage that just isn’t true. Views
that will make you consider calling the mailman “father.” Fortunately, the
mailman is a woman.
Sure, my father displays his Cherokee sun-kissed skin while
my own is white as the pure driven snow, but that’s beside the point. “We have
the same facial features,” I reassure them. Of course, we do not always share
features. Exceptions include, but are not limited to, peers showing me the
videos of my dad on social media platforms. “I’ve never seen that man in my
life,” I reassure them. And of course, they believe it. They always do. It
makes me feel like an evil geneticist or mastermind villain.
No one ever considers the possibility of genetics. Your
family is always labeled by the colored hair you possess. I’ve never understood
it, but occasionally it works in your favor. It's easy being related to someone
when it’s convenient and claiming not to know them when necessary. My parents
are both gingers, except when they aren't.
“A
Jab at Sitcoms (Seinfeld)”
By
Josh Knox
Have you ever noticed how most sitcoms have this one guy? I
mean, no job, no woman, hardly a life, yet somehow he always has the privilege
to take whatever happens to be in your fridge. He could take a sandwich, maybe
even a whole meal; heck, he could even take tomato juice, mistaking it for
milk. He just waltzes in, using the spare key he somehow got a hold of, and
raids your fridge. I mean, people! What you need to do is simply this; next
time he deems himself worthy enough to help himself to the contents of your
fridge, don’t just stand there gawking, wondering, “What’s he doing? Well, I
hope he doesn’t find the spare ribs.” You’ve gotta intervene. If I were you,
I’d start charging him for whatever he takes. “What’s that? You want an omelet?
Well, that’ll be $14.99, my freeloading friend.”
“9th Grade Lit”
By Elliott Austin
Every day I go into Mr. Young’s class I don't know what to
expect. Some days I walk in and he’s outside playing the keyboard, other days
the lights are turned off and we are playing Just Dance. I remember at the
beginning of the year, probably around August, Mr. Young read to my class,
“Casey at the Bat”. This was one of the first things Mr. Young started teaching
us, so I didn't really know what he was gonna do or how he was gonna do it.
Going off of what we had done last year, I honestly just thought he would make
us read it ourself and write a four page summary on what it was about, but I
was wrong. The last thing I expected was for him to grab a giant ruler
(pretending it was a baseball bat), and scream at the top of his lungs- but
that’s what he did. It was definitely an interesting and unforgettable first
impression to him and his class. There’s so many more things I could mention
about his class, like playing bingo, recording things for his podcast, and even
him jumping on his table and starting to dance. Overall I've enjoyed this class
a lot, and it's definitely one I'll
never forget.
“Raidan
and Shot Putting”
By
Mason Graham
The sun beams down on the athletes
as they throw heavy metal balls as far as they physically can. They make
anything a sport at this point. See who throws the ball farther has even been
an olympic game since 1896.
Apparently it's masculine, too. That is if masculine means
big and sweaty men spinning like a ballerina and chucking a ball with an
aggressive moan, just for the ball to fly for three seconds before it
anticlimactically plops down. I suppose they enjoy it, although they may just
be forced to do it.
Raidan Allen Black does, despite all odds, enjoy throwing a
big metal ball. The issue with Raidan though is when he looks all big and
sweaty, spinning like a ballerina, when he chucks the ball, it does not go very
far. Third from last at the last track meet is not very satisfying. I still
love him though. The two ranked behind him must love him too. They probably saw
him throw and decided to not throw so he would not get deadbeat last. Raidan
will get better though… at least I think so.
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