Desperate Mouselife

I scurry. That's not all I do but I think it sums it all up rather nicely. I've tried sketching but petrified I skittle away from it, whipped on by demanding teachers. I chain myself to the desk, glue the pencil in my hand and meditate on life, the universe and everything. Coming not even near a vague conclusion I decide to listen to Douglas Adams talk about life, the universe and everything and soon his words soothe my troubled mind. I absent-mindedly tear the pencil from my palm, taking a hefty part of my skin with it. I put it besides the blank paper, think about my assignment due by tomorrow. I think about my birthday which conveniently was only three days ago. I say conveniently because my memory struggles with most things larger than equations of somewhere around three. Thinking of that I realize that I'm behind my schedule on what must be five or six assignments by now (well, my guess is five or six but because of the aforementioned I might be way off). At least in the way that I would have liked to work them out. I'm tired. I slump over my desk spilling ink over the paper on it. Well, I'll just see that as my assignment. Sadly it's no good as a deviation. I am deviant, odd, different, in the way that I don't seem to produce any deviantions. Don't seem to have the time and hardly the ability. Hopefully it will come to me eventually. For now, I think I'll sleep for three or four hours.

tack tack

--Drekafluga músímús--