Owned for Life

I'm lucky enough to go to a nice little New England prep school, and when I say 'lucky' I mean because, no matter how much we might bitch and moan, we don't have to do anything. I have almost half the class periods free, plus we have half days (done by 11:something) every Wednesday and Saturday. Ok, so we have school on Saturdays, so maybe we do have work...that's not important though because the only reason I brought it up was to say that the homeslices* and I were free this afternoon. I was persudaded (by the promise of free pizza from the local Best Pizza Place Ever) to go downtown with them (the homeslices) for lunch. Us guys proceeded to impress (or was it disgust) the one girl who was there with the amount of pizza we sucked down (we're pros when it comes to that, and luckily all athletes who burn enough calories to not be morbidly obese by now).

You have be wondering how a girl happened to be around the homeslices (especialy considering that one of them is Old School Klingon, who is obviously a loser). Its true that I have very few homeslices of the female persuasion, but this particular girl, as nice (and Canadian) as she is, is not a homeslice, she's actualy the girlfriend of a homeslice (Dr. K, not the Klingon). But no one minds her being there, because we're all friends (not the same as homeslice, mind you) and they're pretty un-couple-y. Just ask the Klingon, he knows a ton about couples because he's the ultimate third wheel, and apparently the target of derision today....hmm.

Anyways, we were gorging on pizza, and it came down to the last piece. Koopon and OSK...

Ok, stop. You know how I refuse to use people's real names or those ultra-dorky blog-abbreviations (i.e. refering to people solely by the first letter of their name, like "K and L and I went to the store on Tuesday"). I realize that using vague pronouns for everyone I ever mention won't work, so I've decided to use weird pseudonames (which conviniently coincide with blogger identities) instead. Just wanted to clear things up so you don't think I actualy call anyone "Dr. Koopon".

Back to the story, there was only one piece of 'za left, and Koops and Kahless** had decided they could eat no more. Where I'm from (bizarroland) we don't leave any pizza behind, so I knew I had to tackle this last slice despite the copious amount I had already eaten. I wasn't confident though, so I approached it cautiously, cutting off parts of it (not half, that didn't work out). We were left with the tip of the slice, probably 4 square inches (very little) but I could eat no more. Then an ingenius solution struck me: let's have it wrapped up. Keep in mind that this "slice" was an insignifigant amount of food, only a few bites and hardly worthy of note. So when I asked our waiter to wrap it up he asked me "are you serious?", to which I replied, amidst the giggles of my underclassman homeslices, yes. He brings back this tiny little thing in a plastic box that probably could've fit twenty of them while we all laughed and rejoiced at being young and as rebellious as prep school kids get. On the walk back, we got really close to this little guy, and I named him 'junior'. He has a little home in my car now, though that probably won't work out in the long run. Maybe I'll post baby-pictures.

*I know theres no picture of me here, but trust me; I'm very white

**Please tell me you got that...