BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP.
SMASH!! SLICE!! ....... KABOOOOMMM!!
If you couldn't tell by the various onomatopoeia, that was my alarm. Though the slicing and smashing were just me destroying it with the knife that I keep under my pillow and the various C4 ( cordite explosives) that I have around the house. Before you say anything, it's ok, I threw it out the window before it exploded. See? Safety is my top priority when it comes to objects of hazard. And in my case it's alarms that go off at f***ing 6 :00 in the morning on a Sunday. Well this sucks. Anyway.... I guess I should introduce myself. My name is uureaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggggaahhhh *pain*. Yup that's right, my name is literally an agonised groan and my last name doesn't even count as an actual word but more a special effect ( y'know, like in comics). This makes life a bit of an inconvenience as I'm sure you'll find out. Anyway I'm 15 and so far I've become an expert in ballistics and explosives ( I'm sure they're the same thing though), knife techniques and sword throwing as well as high level physics and classic literature. So as you can see I'm not your average high school student.
But these techniques, although handy, are frowned upon by modern society ( for some strange reason) so I have to limit use to basically my backyard and bedroom (all accept physics and literature, that is). so back to the story..... its 6:00 am and I'm pretty sure that my clock radio is not going to recover from its latest adventure out of the window. I sigh. this is going to be a long, long, day. I lean out of the window and wince as I see where my clock landed. it had flown about five metres and then crash-landed, exploded and set fire to the tree outside my window. I grab the fire extinguisher from beside my bed, pull on a coat( of sorts) and jump out of the same window from which I had just thrown my demon of an alarm, clock, radio, thing. sliding down the inclined roof of the floor below me, I jump to the ground and race toward the tree that was engulfed, now, entirely in flames. gracefully ( although not really) I dance through the air in a gust of spirals and carbonated foam as I extinguish the flames and salvage the remains of my disintegrated wake up machine.
This was, unfortunately, quite an average morning for me. Realising that I was in an odd combination of pyjamas and a slick black overcoat and blue socks; I decide that maybe it's time for breakfast. I walk back to my house, climb back onto the roof and through my bedroom window. now I had to decide what to wear. today was a Saturday and that meant that I had to work. I pull on my standard, work grade, grey jumpsuit and heavy, paint covered, steel capped boots. I then return the overcoat to my shoulders and walk down the stairs at the end of my hallway.
Grabbing banana from fruit bowl, keys from basket and bag from hook; my journey to the front door ends and I descend the stairs in a most graceful of fallings. Ok so landing on my arse is not exactly graceful but hey, I made it to the bottom right? ( see what I did there? Bottom. Hahaha!! I slay me.) now, work. Let's get one thing straight; my job is legal, it's just not acknowledge as such.
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My name is *pain*
RandomMy name is *pain* . But my full name is uureaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggggaahhhh *pain*. I think mum was under a little pressure when she was asked to name me. Well at least it's simple to pronounce I guess; you just groan a bit and then wince like you've be...
