--Come with me if you want to live--
It's the changing of classes. I have four minutes to do whatever I want. I walk down the hallway fully alert to what opportunities could be presented. Just then, the elevator doors open and out hobbles some cripple. As the doors close, I jump in and prepare for launch. I ride it from the basement to the top and back down a few times. As with all good things, the end has come. I hit the button for the main hallway and wait. The doors open and I move to walk out. I raise my head and see the Celluch standing infront of the doors. I jump back and calmly press the close door button. The doors close just as he turns around. I let out a sigh of relief just a bit too soon. A metallic blade slides between the door and then melts into two handle things that open the doors. He's face meets the end of my shotgun as I unload a slug into his skull. It splits open and he recoils, this allows the doors to slowly close. His liquid metal head slides back into its original shape and he continues to search for missing ID tags. I took the stairs the rest of the day.

--It's funny because he has no power--
We walk cautiously down the hallway. The smell of death is in the air. With every turn of the corner, we tempt fate. Finally, our luck runs out. The Celluch is at the end of the hallway and notices my lack of ID. I freeze, knowing his remaining vision is based on movement. It does no good, he can smell my fear. Taylor comes to my aid. He sees the dire straits I'm in and thinks fast. He steps out from the doorway in which he was hiding and fires up a flare. Celluch sees the movement and his focus changes. Tails slides the flare side to side. Then he spells "poop" in the air. He throws it down the hall as Celluch trots down the hallway with the ususal dead, blank expression on his face. We both know he's fallen prey. After it passes, Tails and I run down the hall to the closest bathroom and dive in. I scratch ZM+AC on one stall, who knows what crazy acts of vandalismt he commits one stall down. The bell rings and we calmly walk to 4th period

--Like stealing candy from a dirty old man--
The rumble in my tumble convinces me that it's candy time. I look to my right and ask Mark if he wants anything, I'm pullin a candy run. He wants a 2 kit kats. The professor is facing the board, talking about something or other, I think. I walk up and get a tissue and scope the scene. I look back at and see smirks. They know whats goin down. The order rises, 4 kit kats, 2 twix's and a krackle. The old man at the front slowly turns around, after about an hour, I'm almost in his field of vision. I duck behind the desk and wait for the ok from Mark. He gives it and I tip toe around the other side of the desk and slowly open the bottom drawer. Jackpot. I can feel the tension, I've been down for too long. I look next to me and see the backs of his feet start to shuffle around. I covertly close the drawer and slide under the desk instead of around it. I pop up on the other side and camly walk back to my seat, passing out candy along the way. I love chemistry, I might become a chemist.

--I love the smell of paper in the morning--
Its out of my hands now. I've done what I can. The pressure has been applied, my other hand in place. Now, I just wait for the page to rip with that beautiful harmony of perfection. A bead of sweat rolls down my face as I increase the amount of force ever so slightly. The perferation holds, I get greedy. I try to use my telekinesis to guide the separation. Still nothing, I can't hold on much longer. I let the paper go and my hand flys off as a gust of breath escapes my lungs. I crack my neck, close my eyes and meditate for 3 seconds. Then as my Chi returns to me, I suddenly awake and grab hold of the paper and tug in one swift movement. A movement that proves to be too swift as the tear flys off the perferation and travels sideways along the page. My hand has too much momentum to stop, I watch in horror as a once perfect page is destroyed. Finally, the carnage stops. I rip out what's left and crumble it into a ball. I look to the left, look to the right, make sure no teacher is in sight, then I hurl it in the direction of his skull. Direct Hit! We have taken friendly fire. I look down at the next piece as he turns around, searching for his sniper. I keep a straight face and I am in the clear. I look back at the blackboard, seemingly interested. The teacher looks at me, I look it right back in the face. My confidence holds out and it turns back around. Success, Zack has no idea where it came from. I put one hand on the opposite page for support. I apply pressure, it's out of my hands now...