Quotes by the Human Race for the Human Race

How Things Go Wrong

Chiyuki Kageyama rolled over beneath her covers and sighed contentedly, drifting towards wakefullness. She felt warm and peaceful, and she opened her eyes, blinking lazily at the digital clock on her bedside table.

She stared at it for an entire five seconds before it registered in her brain that it read 8:30 A.M.

"No! I'm late!" the girl fell out of bed and bumped her elbow on the floor, "Owww..."

Chiyuki rubbed her elbow gingerly and ran a hand through her ebony hair. She scrambled to her feet, clutching her arm as she ran to throw on clothes. Yelling a goodbye to her groggy father (who had the day off work and had just woken up) and shoving a piece of toast in her mouth, she ran out the door with her backpack hanging off her shoulder. She dashed through the streets, the wind cutting through her black jacket as she ran to school.

She burst into her first period class, disheveled and breathless, with her books in her arms.

"Ah, Ms. Chay-yon-keh?"

Chiyuki looked up to see a substitute teacher- sitting at Mr. Lah's desk in his place- with grey hair pulled in a tight bun and wearing a brown pant suit.

"Sorry?" Chiyuki asked, puzzled.

"Ms. Chay-yon-keh Kat-eh-gee-mah? You're late," the substitute said, looking at Chiyuki expectantly. Her name was apparenly Mrs. Hahfbaked, at least that was the name written on the board. Her classmates snickered, and it took Chiyuki a couple seconds to realize Mrs. Hahfbaked was talking to her.

"It's Chee-yoo-key Kah-gay-yah-mah," she spoke slowly, "And yes, I am late. Here's my pass."

She handed the yellow slip of paper she had obtained from the office on the way to class, and sat down, face reddening.

"Thank you, Ms. Kat-eh-gee-mah," Mrs. Hahfbaked said and continued with the lesson while Chiyuki shook with anger and embarrassment in her seat. Was it really that hard to pronounce her name? She spent the remainder of the class period wondering if Mrs. Hahfbaked had done it on purpose out of spite because she had been late or not.

The day wore on with mishap after mishap. Aside from the substitute teacher mispronouncing her name, she had forgotten to do her geography homework. She spilled yellow paint all over her clothes and hair in art class, and spent the rest of the day looking like an obnoxious crayon. How she hated the color yellow. She fell asleep in Algebra and had to be woken up by the teacher. In Band, she knocked over the cymbals and nearly broke the drums.

When Chiyuki arrived home, she found her father had attempted to cook lunch for himself, and had failed miserably. Chiyuki had done the cooking since her mother had died a few years ago, and occasionally her father attempted to cook for himself and it always ended in disaster. The kitchen (even it had been hours since lunch) was a wreck. All matter of substances covered the cabinets and stove, and various dirtied pots and pans were scattered across the floor and counter-tops. Her father sat in the middle of it, mourning his defeat with a carton of ice cream.

Chiyuki sighed. Another day where everything went wrong.

Here's a fun short story I wrote.