The Eggs of Dementia

For the first time in a long time, I was back to being Dark Warrior; that is, kicking ass and kicking more ass and flexing my pecs. The dream had returned and I was in sheer nirvana until I abruptly fell out of the dream, back into my bed and fell from my bed back into Ponyville, in the exact spot I had left off from the previous cutoff. The appropriately epic music that played during my dream battles was replaced with a saxophone ditty and resembled an old crusty supermarket tune. This was appropriate to me, however, because Rarity was in the flesh and looked sexier than ever. The fog was so dense there was only a path from myself to her and SON OF A BITCH!

I woke up. In English class. Again, I had lost track of time, place and reality, and apparently, my bowels, as I had shat myself. Remember the part about wanted to eat a box of bullets more than falling down some steps at an assembly? Well, I take that back times omnifinity, for sure. Some memories had returned, such as how the previous night had seen us feast on a meal of Mexican fare that had adverse effects in… certain areas. I told my parents that I couldn’t eat Mexican, but they wouldn’t listen, as usual. So guess who had to pay? Wally. Wally the Freak.

“Look everyone, Wally the Freak pooped his pants!” exclaimed Chad, a handsome football player.

“Get away from my Gucci sweater, you creep.” said Silvia, a very attractive dame I sat next to per a seating chart recently enacted.

I stood up, took off my pants and punched that whore right in the face. Nice! Next Chad tackled me but I smoked the fucker out by kicking him in the testes. Pretty much everyone in the class surrounded me and was closing in for a beat-down, but I did a triple kick through the air and smashed through the whiteboard into the next class where I shoved King Kong up my ass and ate a sandwich. Wait, what? What the…? Oh no… this was what I was afraid of…