WEP: Red Runs Deep

No one at this wretched place will ever appreciate the little details. They will never appreciate all the work I put into this grass, the halls, even the toilets where their nasty backsides sit. They will continue being completely immune to it. Lost in selfies and participation medals. Disgusting. But today they will pay for their unawareness. And pay they will.

Look at that. Two ripe harlots posting doctored images of a nerd. I'll give them something to take images of and post. In my day you had to face someone to be a bully. The joys of stuffing Teeny Tony in a locker. How I long for such freedom again. I bet Teeny Tony does too. Last I heard he was locked in the nuthouse. Sweet victory. And I'll be damned if I am going to weed one more piece of grass while some scrawny, pimply-face, two-bit nerd beats my track record.

None of this would be necessary if these stadium dwellers had booed. But oh no, they had to cheer for participation medals. Like those should be a thing. Yeah, you're kid is great for showing up. Hell, my turds can float down river and show up. And don't you people work? Living off the system with five kids you hardly know how to look after. And you say I'm the one to be looked down upon. Filth. Maybe I should have made it bigger.

Look at them. Lining up on the once great track of this once great school. It used to take skill to run it. Now all it takes is a few social justice warrior nutjobs whining about it being too long for their little babies. A maggot could run the distance in record time at this length. Little maggots are all they are. I know what to do with maggots.

Kissing them good luck. Hugging. Kissing again. On the lips. Really? Don't you get enough at home and with your side dishes? What is this? Did Disney take over the world and force kids to stay latched at the tit from birth to adulthood? I am so glad I didn't create any spawn. Not that a woman would have me. I do physical labor. I am looked down upon. I can't get a job with a spiffy suit and kiss backside for ten hours a day.

Damn, when did I become so isolated? I ruled this school. My name is on the wall. They look happy. Maybe as happy as I once was. If only they knew what real life had in store. But should they know? I didn't. Is that the point? The real world Santa Claus. Maybe it is the ultimate present that they are given even if they are a bunch of cocky, useless, tit suckers. Can I ruin that? Should I ruin that? Would that make me as bad as the whiners and social justice nutballs? Probably. Damn it.

The gun fired. The race is on. I have to make it. Damn, I'm fast. This is how it is done, tit suckers. I still have it. Look at their faces. Confusion. They finally see me. I will be remembered as a hero. And I may still keep my record. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Well old girl, you have been a good tool for many years. I hope somebody fixes you and gives you a good coat of red paint. Actually, I may be doing the red part in three...two...one...

...look...at...them...scatter...Am I...floating? I'm...I'm going up. I must be getting rewarded. Hero racer saves school from bomb hidden in wheelbarrow. That's a headline they'll never forgot.

Words: 609

I looked at the pic and that is what came to me. Looks like it could be some university or school lawn. Thoughts? Yeah, rather touchy subject in many a way, but it came on out so away I went.

Enjoy life, forget the strife.