I Don't Mean To Brag

I have been to 12 continents, I have swam 12 seas and I have stayed up past 12 am. I can shoot a man with an unloaded gun, I can win Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun, and I can go online without asking my parents for permission. But I don't mean to brag.

At the age of 13, I gave my parents a 9 o’clock bed time, at the age of 7, I bought my 3rd car and at the age of 17, I did an awesome blog assignment. The Rock has to get bigger to play me, Chuck Norris has to make Dirk Puge jokes and my dad has to drive me to school.  When I'm bored, I walk on the Sun, when I'm thirsty, I drink the Ocean and when I'm angry, I slam the door. But I don't mean to brag. I speak Latin in Greenlandic Norse, I squat 750 with a shower rod and  I write prize winning cards to my grandparents. But I don't mean to brag.

The Forbidden City gave me a key, the U.N calls me for advice and the school calls my house when I'm sick. After the Americans kicked the British out, I kicked them out. After the 2004 tsunami happened, I beat up the ocean. After dark, I usually head home. In Britain, I made a royal guard smile, In Middle Earth, I see Sauron, and In your school, I will excel in life.

DIRK PUGE



 

The Exam

 

 

In that moment of cerebral clarity, it occured to me I had lapsed a very crucial part of the exam process. I forgot to study for it. I found it hard to walk those last few steps past those gates which would decide what end of 20% I would be on. The sound of absolute silence distilled this cathedral devoted to language with a sense of eerie compliance and subjugation. As I lowered myself to the closest seat, my legs nearly stopped working. Darting from side to side, my eyes took in this monolithic act of conformity. Children were all placated nicely to simply sit and stare, stonefaced, acutely aware that the slightest shadow of a whisper of a word to a friend may be reprimaded with a instant loss of 20% and, possibly, their University application. The constant change of odour of every person became glaringly present as I tried to focus on the clock. I could almost taste the vile reek of 40 different smeels of 40 different kids as I simply try to complete the incomprehensible task of waiting for a exam I had given no thought of until this very hour. The teacher began to stir. Roaring from the darkness like a bat out of hell, the room seem to explode in anticipation. My eyes could not track all of the jittery movements or anxious glances. Unaffected, the teacher began to mozy about, handing papers this way and that. Finally reaching me, the swell of nervessnous rose to my shoulder, anticipating the disillusioned face of parents as they recieved my marks. Quickly, I snatched the paper from the hand of the teacher. It was for grade 10 science. "Oh sh..." I began, and with a flurry of motion, I was sprinting up flight after flight of stairs, knowing if I had taken the time to study, I would never had had such a grotesque amount of anxiety as to forget to not go to science for a english exam.