LITERARY ECSTASY

STOMP. Descending, crashing feet molest the silence of the school. STOMP. The inferior teachers quiver and writhe in fear. SATAN, SATAN, SATAN. The mighty swords defend the words which we speak. Perched upon a precarious desk top, the battle cries leave our lips at staggering times. Taming the English Lit class is like seeking to hold the wind in a net. The tumultuous cheers crescendo into a raging joy. Stomping through the hallways, terrorizing the tedious classes, the pride within us may not be diminished. We rage against the dying of the light! For Lit is the light, it is the light which illuminates the corpses of what once was, of the times which have almost been forgotten, that are remembered through the writing of the visionaries of each era. Searcy's energy reverberates against the dull walls, her coffee craving lips bring us to action. Insanity. Chaos. Anarchy. The most powerful and raw concepts to incorporate. Great waves of hot chocolate spilling and tumbling to the floor. Mad laughter echoes from each of us, random statements in a whirlwind, there is no order, but for Searcy's passionate command. There is no force to tame us, as a wandering bark is fixed toward the north star, we are fixed upon Searcy. Any other authority collapses feebly under the mighty, swarming Lit class. Mr. Hogg, our esteemed enemy who prods fun at the pride of literature, is under attack- sneak attack.  Stealth mode and cunning maneuvers are executed without a flaw. His conviction for his crime is inevitable, as the unfaithful shall be vanquished. Never resist the Lit Class, for we cannot be resisted. No salvation awaits our victims, no escape from our clever wrath. It is with unconquerable pride that the English Lit 12 class dominates the universe with insurmountable force, and I- I thank what ever gods may be for my own unconquerable soul.