“I thought your paper was on Milton?”
“Yeah it is … I’m totally sweating , I didn’t understand any of it.” I was sweating to .It was hot , I’d been up all night typing the thing.The mini thins, coffee, and no doze regimen of the previous evening had left me a twitching damp jittery miserable mess.
“Then why,”said Alan,” did you write a paper about a trailer park.”
“What the Hell are you talking about? I spent all damn night writing this thing after a week of slogging through incomprehensible verse that I had been lead to believe was English! Where the hell are you getting a trailer park? Why are you being such a dick if you don’t want to look it over for me just say so ! Class is starting now!” My anxiety was physical it was so intense.As I began to lay into Alan again he spared me the agony and spoke up.
“Right there on the cover. It Says ‘Paradise Lots’, like the rv park on route 3. I pass that sign every day on my way to work.”
Crap…