HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SCOTT

Please Note: Before beginning the process of reading this post and giggling to yourself, please read and respond to the real blog; the one about Hamlet. Thanks!

Scott McIntire…In it’s time, that name has inspired both pure exultation and utter terror. However, what I will always associate with Scott is the humble #2 pencil. It’s true that Scott has no great love of pencils. In fact, he’s not fond of them at all…Now that I think about it, he hates pencils with a burning passion. I should have realized it the first time he asked to borrow one of my pencils.

Scott comes up to me, and asks polite as can be, “Dearest Matthew, might I borrow that exquisite pencil perchance,” pointing to my favorite writing stick. “I seem to have misplaced mine own, and am at a loss as to what I shall ever do without it.”
Though his manner was the picture of perfect manners, it was also extremely creepy, and I found myself quite eager to decline his offer and get myself fast away. “Scotto-san, totemo hen desu yo…Oh, sorry, I blurt out Japanese when I’m startled and worried for the sanity of he who has addressed me such as you have done. Anyways, I think the cookies in my EZ-Bake Oven are finished. I’ve really got to go take care of that, so, I’m just going to go,” I said, excusing myself.
Unfortunately, as I turned to depart he rushed in front of me, crying out, “No, please, go not that way my liege, ‘tis a fool’s path you tread if you set foot into the forest!”
Now incredibly confused, I gave him my most puzzled of stares, and said, “You, sir, are insane. I’m not anyone’s “liege,” nor is there any forests around here at all! We’re in school.” Pointing behind him I continued, “Those doors lead to Mrs. Cleavenger’s room, and beyond that is the hallway. I am going to go now, because, you are just acting crazy right now.”
Upon hearing this, Scott dropped to his knees, on the verge of tears, and pleaded, “No, please Matt, please! All I ask is to borrow your pencil, that’s all! Look, I’m done talking in that stupid accent, just let me see your pencil! Please!”
Of course, I had to relent. That was just too much. Also, he did say please. As I handed him the pencil, my most cherished and favorite pencil which had seen me through so many games of tic-tac-toe, something passed across his face; a fleeting expression I could not put my finger on, but sent a chill down my spine. However, I, in the ignorant innocence of my youth, ignored it, and let the pencil fall from my hand.
As soon as it slipped into his fingers, the mood changed as quick and sudden as if someone had flipped some switch. The moisture in Scott’s eye’s vanished, and the down-turned corners of his mouth had morphed into a malicious grin. That sparkle in his eye was no longer that of a tear, but one of cruel mischief. The true Scott had emerged from his shell. With a shout of glee, he lifted my prized pencil above his head, and mustering all the force, animosity, and abhorrence one might possibly have against a pencil, brought it down on the edge of the table, snapping it in twain.
At the earsplitting crackle and crunch of pulverized wood, my vision blurred and, letting a gurgling, throaty wail spill out from my gaping mouth, I began to weep…

Anyway, happy birthday Todd!! I mean Scott. Have a good one!
(Sorry about the excessive length of this post)