So I was walking to Math with Marisol today, along with Mr. Badluck (Forilla Bag). As we were advancing slowly, like a herd of cows, we were making fun of each other, as usual. But suddenly the jokes stopped. "Forilla," I heard from behind me. At first I pretended it didn't happen. But the voice repeated itself, louder this time. Finally I turned around, and the overly tall, immature freshmen turned their heads away from my cold glare, which can be deadly if looked at directly, even ask PinkieP. So I, too, turned away and continued to destroy Marisol's self esteem. But, once again, I heard, "Forilla!" Now it was just annoying. I waited for the repetitive question of, "What's Forilla?" But it never came. Instead these little boys just giggled. "That's it, time for some ass whooping," I thought to myself. Marisol, who can read my mind, tried holding me back, but her weak biceps were not strong enough to restrain my flaring nerves. I lunged at the freshmen at full force, knocking down fellow cattlelike students. Soon the boys were eating floor; all three or four of them. In a voice dripping with superiority, I asked them, "Do you even know what Forilla is?" With tears streaming down their acne covered faces they shook their heads no and asked for forgiveness. But I'm not that easy to break. "Lick my boot heels, you scabrous pieces of shit." I ordered. They hesitated, but with a small kick in their sides, they obeyed. I walked away, laughing scornfully. Some say I have an anger problem, but, really, I'm a nice person.