Under the Radar by D. Urgon (feel good books TXT) ๐
- Author: D. Urgon
Book online ยซUnder the Radar by D. Urgon (feel good books TXT) ๐ยป. Author D. Urgon
This is the story of the average middle school student. The ups, the downs, the over-dramatizations, I get bored easily so I started writing this. As you'll find I'm not popular, but I'm not a complete retard either. This is pretty much what middle school is like. Man, its really hard to make chapters a whole page.
Right now I am sitting bored in my free period, where I used to be able to play computer games, with the other two kids who have a free period right now named Grace and Annie. Grace is one of my fiends though it is not, and never will be, romantic, that comment is specifically pointed at my friend Randy, as he thinks we should go out together. Katie just moved back here, after five years, so I don't know her very well. Today I decided to start writing this. I have math soon, it's Valentines Day today, so I've pretty much spent the day cheering my friends Jim and Andy up from their previous break-ups. The homework this week has definitely packed a punch this week. I hate this place.
Two of my friends, Andy and Matt went to Vegas. I'm pretty sure Matt is going to end up passed out in a roadside ditch, but we'll see. Other than that nothing has happened this week really. I really could use the weekend though.
At lunch today our table seemed a little short on people. Grace told me that friends fall over when hit multiple times with an ax, and I promised to do so to her sometime in the future. Flynn was eating a cupcake and continuing to whimper about his break-up with Carly, when Josh got sick of him and shoved the cupcake in his face. He spent the next minute or so with pink icing smashed against his left cheek, then finally wiped it off, leaving pink coloring on his lips that made him look gay.
I have amazing friends, don't I?
Among the inappropriate jokes and random cussing, I watched as an orange peel, formerly belonging to myself, being thrown back and forth across the table by Grace, Ben, Flynn, Josh, and myself.
At recess, everyone disappeared except for Randy. Randy and I attempted to entertain ourselves on the small play structure. The school has only had it for a half a year or so, its almost completely broken. We got bored in seconds and spent most of the time avoiding freezing our butts off, as I continued the "shorts all year" program. This week has seemed longer than most weeks, I can't wait for it to end. I have had way more homework than usual for some reason and haven't been able to go to Nordic Skiing training at all this week. I am not doing anything this weekend, I really could use some rest. I've watched six James Bond movies in the last week, so I clearly have been bored a lot.
So President's Day, a holiday I really needed, I'm sick of school right now so yeah, I needed it. I went Cross-Country Skiing today and had an allergic reaction. I broke out in hives and my throat closed up, I started to wheeze. I solved this problem by taking an ice-cold baking soda bath. I took a Benadryl and fell asleep at 7:00. I woke up the next morning to go to school and I took another Benadryl. I could not stay awake and almost fell asleep in class multiple times.
Grace says I should be more descriptive when writing this. Should I? I'm not a very descriptive person. I had woodshop today, no one did any work, I just sat and talked with a couple of kids.
I plan to make this a TV show this summer just to put on Youtube. I'm going to try to cast every one as themselves, but that I'll probably cut some characters and change a lot of what happens and create an actual plot.
As you can probably tell nothing much happened this week. So I decided to put the next one in the same chapter.
I'm kind of starting to fall behind on my schoolwork I've noticed. I had another Alergic reaction and we still don't know what its from.
Text: David U.
Images: Hannah G.
Editing: Hannah G.
Publication Date: 02-14-2013
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
To myself, to use as a TV show script.
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