Instructor, pacing the front of the room, stroking chin, looks quizzically at January, who is lening back nonchalantly and chewing on a straw because that crap is addictive and almost therapeutic. All of the questions he doesn't voice are there in his eyes; "Why? How? WHAT IS THE ANSWER?"
And then she speaks.
January: Sleep deprivation + waking up at the a$$ crack of dawn + not enough coffee = cranky January that will claw your eyes out of you look at her wrong. Simple enough, Karate Kid. Is that the best you got? Bring it on. BRING. IT. ON. I am ALMOST fluent in 3 languages, one of them being English, mother trucker. Throw all your punches at me; I'm the ninja of time and space. I had a chocolate chi8p muffin for lunch. Yes, that is an 8. No, I will NOT change it. THIS IS SPARTAAA!
Instructor: I see! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!
January: Yeah. Duh. Are there any glittery things around here? I'm tired. Maybe a string? Popsicle? Napkin? Mustache? Seriously, throw me a frickin bone.
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