As I walked to Williams Hall from Schroeder Hall, I saw a group of children. I saw the children all crowded around a woman (whom I assumed to be their teacher) looking at piece of paper. I saw the children as they looked at the tree. I expected they were supposed to indentify all the different kinds of trees on the quad. I saw a little boy dressed in a puffy blue jacket and a red hat. I saw the little boy put a leaf in his pocket that he had picked up. How wonderful! As I continued to walk, I saw an ipod zombie as he walked slowly to what I assume would be his next class, with a blank stare and his mouth half-way open as if he was going to say something along the lines of, “Hey man, check out that cloud. It’s so white and puffy and like, way up there. In the sky.” I made my way up the stairs and entered Williams. I struggled to open the big, heavy doors. I walked to the left and saw my fellow peers lined up along the left and right sides of the hallway. I saw them discussing the homework and what we read over the weekend and the previous night. I saw Gabe as he strolled down the hallway towards our class. I saw Gabe as he opened the door and I saw everyone else follow suit as they followed him into the classroom. I saw everyone sit in the same general area. I sat down near the window and the awful, annoying, atrocious, absurd heater. The heater began to make noise. I saw the looks on my peers faces as they began to grow annoyed. I decided to solve the problem. I got up and took out my rocket launcher (which I kept safely in my back pocket) and shot the irritating, infuriating, irksome heater. It blew a hole clean through it, and it stopped making that maddening clamor. I saw how everyone applauded. I sat back down, and class started. By Erica Steinhauser
