Placeholder high! This is the wonderful name Sir Death gave to this all-encompassing educational environment! Anyone who tells you it's nothing but a tax scheme is a liar and should not be trusted. I, of course, can be trusted ... That's not a real argument you say?

  …you didn't say anything?....

  Yes, I am the narrator after all, which means you can't do anything! No talking, no nuthin.

  Spit on me, burn me, throw me away, it does not matter for I am forever! I am the lord of stories! And I wield the almighty ability…which is divinely titled the computer keyboard!

  …

  …

  Forgive me general audience, you see ive recently been afflicted with an alignment of sorts…and well… it's ruined my mental health! It really has! It all started with this rotten, ugly, selfish, self-centered, dishonest, conniving, short… unhygienic….rascal girl! She calls herself Janny Jarice. Even saying the name makes my fingers tingle…in a bad way obviously.

  This girl declared herself as my sworn nemesis for no reason whatsoever. I'm a good man, yet even I am subject to the unjust cruelty of this accursed plain of digital paper. This world here is all I have…but…this evil little gremlin won't leave me alone! I bet she's here with us right now. Come out Janny! Come out and face me you cowardly devilgirl!

  …

  …

  She usually….does…come. She must be occupied with….loser dork stuff or something stupid like that. Uh-huh, you want to know something funny, general audience? Janny is a complete neet! Oh yes, she is! I saw her um….writing a story….a bad story, way worse than any of my stories. It was about a world where she isn't a no-good narcissistic brat! Oh wait…she'd never write that because she couldn't dream of simultaneously not being both of those things!

  Take that Janny!

  …

  …

  Janny?

  Janny hellooooo?

  Janny….

  Whatever it's not like I wanted to talk to her anyway.

  Transition sentence.

  Now…for the thing you've all been searching for this entire time! The plot!

  Behold!

  In a quaint room flooded with alligator tears, a morbidly obsessed staff member, a teacher if you must know, who is also a crocodile, as you've hopefully figured out from the first sentence, is lecturing his student body on the importance of studying and academic integrity. This is ironic because the crocodile, whose name is Mr. Jenkins, never graduated high school, and even worse, is only here because his ex-wife loved kids. Furthermore, he's used that to try and keep a grip on his will to live by occupying himself with high schoolers who dont respect him at all. Mr. Jenkins, all things considered, lives a pretty good life compared to most paid educators.

  Whilst janky boy was blabbering on one Mr. Porobo Pinepun, a second-year student, and an aspiring soon-to-be adult alcoholic, was twiddling his pencil and imagining all the incredible things he could be doing right now.

  An example? Very well, if you must know the biggest thing, the top fantasy in his mind at this very second, is to be writing a story in Sir Death's personal office whilst surrounded by black smoke and gothic candle sets.

  Porobo is a sad little man, and quite heavy around the chin, not to say he's fat but…he does have some misallocated resources, both physically and mentally. He may be a minor but that doesnt mean he can't be picked on, especially by me. Look with these sorts of people, if you aren't frank and tough on em then they grow up to be dysfunctional adults! I'm helping him more than anything if you think about it!

  By the time Mr Jenkins's lecture ended, a partner project was gently SMASHED atop Porobo's desk. Before he could re-enter the world of the functional he heard an all too familiar call from his left.

  “Porobo look we’re in the same group!”

  Oh yay! It's Mira-mu, the kindest and most accommodating girl in the entire class! I'm so lucky to have gotten such an understanding person like her in my group! Is what Porobo would′ve thought if he'd received love from his mother as a child, but sadly the earth is cold and Porobo won't take medication. So here we are.

  “…yes we are…” he responded, as lamely as always, Mira-mu took the Initiative, and loudly scooched her desk to fit right next to his. She unfolded the project packet, and as she started reading through the directions she noticed Porobo had not even touched his packet yet. He was being a stick ass and trying to act like working was lame, even though, if you haven't picked up on this already, Porobu was the only lame one around.

  “Porobo silly you need to OPEN the packet before you can start doing the project. Tch tch” she said. Ok look, i dont want to be mean about it but…well Mira-mu isn't as perfect as I made her sound earlier…hey! Hey! Calm down ok! Look, it's not that what I said wasn't true, it's just that…she has some flaws I happened to skip over…. accidentally.

  Here it goes…as kindly as possible.

  MIRA-MU IS AN ABSOLUTE IDIOT!

  She hasn't passed a class on her own since grade 4 and she needs someone to walk her to her classes every day so she doesnt get lost!

  There I said it, you happy now asshole?! Making me put down this nice little lady…I hope you're proud of yourself!

  “I know that Mira!” Porobo yelled, opening the packet with an angsty swipe. Mira, not smart enough to understand almost any social cues, simply nodded with a smile and then got back to trying to decipher the instructions. The one saving grace Mira-mu has is that she's accumulated a good few favors, one of which allows her to read like she isn't 6 years old.

  After some 5 minutes, the pair had finished up with the reading, and were ready to move on and be productive students! right? Porobo? Porobo I said right did you not hear me-

  “Yes, let us work with maximum efficiency and get started on this project as soon as possible!” Porobo yelled after an unknown force nudged him to do so.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Mira-Mu, who was quite happy with Porobus's exclamation, agreed and began to brainstorm some ideas.

  “Hmmm…ah! What if we do a drawing of a mountain? With snowflakes and stuff…like big snowflakes!”

  “Mira…this is a politics assignment” Porobo clarified.

  “oh!”

  “….soooo ... Which argument do you want to go with? Do any of these issues mean anything to you at all?” Porobo asked

  “um….how about…uh…the uh….that one” Mira replied

  “what one?”

  “that one”

  “Mira you aren't pointing at anything.”

  “op! Goofy little old me am I right?”

  Porobo does not like Mira. Porobo does not like anyone but death. That is not a figure of speech. I dont do those….you should know this.

  ….

  …

  “Well I guess I'll just pick wage caps then” Porobo stated, jotting his and Mira's names down next to it. Suddenly, a bald eagle flew through the classroom and landed on someone's head…

  This head belonged to JOE AMERICA! A student known all across the school for his questionable relations with various women and his perfectly legal means of attaining wealth.

  “the wage cap?! You think you're up to par to take me on puff boy?!” Joe yelled stomping over to Porobos desk whilst the bald eagle kissed him on the cheek. Once there he pulled out an American flag from one of his American pockets and planted it into Porobos desk, where it magically began to sway as if there was a great cinematic breeze in the room with them.

  “…what?” Porobo asked, surely overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Joe America and his oversized American get-up. I wouldn't blame him, anyone would be lost for words if THE joe America stomped up to them and showed off his staggering form…for free!

  “everyone knows wage caps are my specialty! It's a topic I'm quite knowledgeable in if I do say so myself. Which I do. During the ol first year run I won the election by 13 votes because the whole student body knew just how adamantly I opposed wage caps on this here soil!l joe America proclaimed, standing proudly by.

  “…didn't you get caught for cheat-

  “the past is the past! We forgive and we forget Poro boy! Look, the point is that you better work your butt off with Mis Mira here if you ever want to receive anything but a FAILING grade on this project!” Joe interrupted, enlightening Porobo and a still-smiling Mira on the reality of their situation.

  “I love it when we have fun competitions like this! Dont you Porobo?” Mira asked, throwing up her arms and tapping her feet on the floor.

  …

  …

  Ding ding

  The sound of the bell! To Porobo this meant he had no further obligations whatsoever to anyone. This wonderful chime was his freedom. And with it, he ran right on over to Sir Death's office door. He could finish the project later, it wasn't even important anyway, it wasn't like he could fail the class or anything.

  “your failing government” Death told him as he took a seat.

  “pfft whatever I still have enough credits to-

  “no you don't”

  “well..I…um-

  “nope”

  “I-

  “no”

  …

  …

  To no one's surprise, death could not be negotiated with.

  “Just pass me man come on!” Porobo argued, unwilling to budge, asking him for effort was stretching it, even death couldn't hope to make him listen on a consistent basis.

  “I’ll make you a deal chubface” death stated, leaning forward and waving away a wall of smoke from between the two of them. Porobo coughed in response, then responded with more earnestness than anyone knew he was capable of.

  “Well lay it out then bone head”

  Death scoffed, then proposed his idea.

  “Finish that project mith Mira….and I'll be sure you pass the class this quarter”

  oh great heavens Porobo thought! Me? Having to work with a girl? Doesnt this guy know that I'm-

  “socially inadequate, yes I do know that. Now are you ready to make a deal with death?” death asked, putting out his hand and trying to cover up his cheese teeth.

  Did you guys see that? Double death…deal with death…something you should know about me, the narrator! Is that I never pass on an opportunity to use cavemen-level references! Why write smart when you can just….write? Am i ... .write or what? HAHAHAH!!!

  …

  …

  Apologies…moving on.

  Porobo rolled his eyes, then shoved his feet onto deaths desk and answered

  “fine… I'll do it you asshole” sorry, we only get one A bomb a chapter, learn to be humble and self-controlled Porobo. It'll do you wonders in the welfare program.

  Just butt out why dont ya?

  Someone’s in a bad mood. Dont tell me death is bringing the mood down. HAHAHA!!!

  Im gonna to kill myself

  ….quite the mouth you got there, to bad all you ever use it for is eating and talking shit!

  With the agreement made death shook Porobos hand, sat back in his chair and began to huff out donuts. Under normal circumstances, this would ruin a person's lungs, but here the only consequence is that it brittles his bones. It's not like he can grow em or anything…so what's the harm?!

  After a sudden wave of tonal shift, the room's colors shifted into muted greys, like sitting in your bedroom during a sunset soaked in rain clouds. Dammit, that was a metaphor! Ah, screw me.

  “Y’know Porobo…it's tough being the conceptual manifestation of the world's greatest fear.” death lightly mingled, kicking Porobos's feet off the desk and sticking his own into his face. They smelled like death, Porobu thought. Get it? Did you get it? Because he's death and-

  “I'm sure it is bones” Porobo disinterestedly replied, preparing to get up and leave the office.

  “I'm not even sure what I am frankly, if I'm death then how am I even here? Am I alive? How can the state of being opposite to life be a living creature itself? It seems paradoxical to me. Does it mean I am in fact a universal paradox? That my existence alone threatens the very fabric of-

  “I'm gonna level with you dude” Porobo announced, joining his hands together and posing like a disappointed father, confronting his- AUCK! What is going on with me today?! It's that damn Janny! This is some stupid plot of hers aint it? Yeah, I got you now you brat! Come on out!

  …

  …

  Death took his feet off the desk and pulled out a skull with a rose stuck in its eye from his robe, then he held it in his palm and outmatched any pose Porobo could ever hope to pull off.

  “The universe does not care about you. If it did you wouldn't be running a school to save face” Porobo informed him.

  “saving face what are you talking about” Death nervously asked, dropping the skull and killing his aura.

  “the billions of people you've let die…it's a bit of a controversy ... like everywhere…all the time…always” Porobo clarified.

  “Pfft! Oh, you meant that? Dont try and scare me like that chub face! You're gonna kill me if you keep at this!l

  I wish I could” Porobo muttered.

  With that Porobo stood up, awkwardly scooted the chair back in, and nodded as he left the room.

  As he began down the hall and toward the front of the school someone tapped him on the shoulder. Porobo turned around, already exhausted, and was greeted by Saranja Slick, a 3rd-year student, one with the appearance of a tall, beefed-up demon girl dorning very pushy clothes and an even more pushy demeanor.

  “You look lonely… I can- she said with a sultry husk before being rudely interrupted.

  “you can't”

  “what if I gave you a bl-

  “im ok”

  “maybe you're more of a fo-

  “I'm not”

  “how about good ol vanilla s-

  “nah Im good”

  “Sweetheart there's nothing good about you” Saranja stated, throwing her hand on her hip and looking down at Porobo.

  “… I'll be leaving now” Porobo blankly replied, walking off past her.

  Saranja kicked the floor, then coughed up some sparks and dashed back down the hall.

  “Heya Saranja” man-boy Masculine called out, stopping Saranja in her tracks as he pulled out a comb from his underwear and combed his golden locks. His shirt popped and a button jolted right into Saranjas tooth. She cursed and began to feel her mouth as Manboy continued.

  “Soooo ... .What's a fine piece of steam-cooked steak like you doing here all alone?”

  “Go suck a dick man-boy!” she screamed, slapping him across the face and yet again storming off in a cloud of orange flame.

  “…fiesty….i like it” man-boy said to himself, savoring the scorch mark on his cheek before slapping a handful of skin moisturizer on top of it.

  Oh Manboy Masculine the masochist. Whatever legally questionable adventures will you embark on next? Find out next time on…

  The Dork Wads Of Death Day!