He came out of the kitchen with a live lobster, threw it on the table and shouted "You think my fish is not fresh? Look how fresh this is!"

Keith and I meet in art class after I jokingly stab him with a number two pencil and then actually stab him with a number two pencil. He’s the only ginger I have seen at school and we’ve become the best of friends. We are both dating hot goth/indie chicks who wear fake Marilyn Monroe birthmarks, pink wigs, and knee-high high heeled vinyl boots. We skip first period study hall every morning to smoke cigarettes outside the faculty parking lot. We make pipes out of kazoos and tin foil and get high during lunch. We smoke so much that when the security guard finally notices us we’re laughing too hard to answer. We both get jobs at Perkin’s bussing tables and flirting with college girls. They like Keith because he doesn’t give a shit. They like me because I don’t say much. We all get high in the walk-in refrigerator and the walk-in freezer. Aisha and Corrine, robust twin waitresses want us. Keith and I both wear ponytails and Don Juan mustaches. We do this all of junior year. On the rare occasion we work day shift one of us is always dishwashing while the other is bussing. Because of this we are quite profane. Sue, a twenty year veteran, inevitably squirts whipped cream into her mouth and then screams after several hours of holding her tongue.