The History

April 1, 2003 - May 31, 2003

April was destined to be a regular month, but there was nothing regular about it. It was fucking INSANE. This month, without a shout of the doubt, was the most important month in TW history, and that's why this page in history will probably be longer than anything I've ever written in History before. I could label this as an era, but I wouldn't know what to call it. Maybe "Wow-what-a-fucked-up-month" Era.

The Hot Babe Shirts

Jeff and I were very anxious to start up a new trend The Warzone has been waiting for so long. A T-Shirt. A simple fucking t-shirt. And for $13, anyone could sport The Warzone's cause: Stupidty.

The first ever t-shirt The Warzone would create (and the last) was the Hot Babe, a shirt design so simple with just a pretty font, and something many people were interested in buying since I brought out the idea sophomore year.

Since I had some previous experience with Team Outfitters, a company located on Texas Avenue, I knew that their prices would be shitty and I would probably want to go somewhere else. So we did.

Gorilla, right off Cedar Bayou Lynchburg near Briarcreek, was our final choice for t-shirts. John, the owner, set us up with a deal to get around fifteen shirts for $170 or so. Yeah, the price was kind of steep, but each shirt was $13, and me and Jeff ended up with a free shirt instead of gaining anything for profit, because we couldn't ever do that.

So several people ordered the shirt. Around school, many people came up to me and told me they liked the idea and liked seeing The Warzone on a lot of different social group members. Everyone from Tim Stuart to Ben Pequeno to Blake Moyer to Rebecca Holmes to Mrs. May, YES, MRS.FUCKING MAY, ordered a t-shirt. You know TW has to be good if a teacher orders a shirt.

Mr. Smith didn't want one, but that's because he knew he wasn't a good teacher and he would jeopardize himself if anyone saw him wearing the shirt.

Gorilla automatically became my choice for t-shirts. Little did I know I'd be going back to them in less than a month, for a tragic cause.

The Realization of Shitty Fucking Classes

In April, I gave up. I totally gave up in Pre-Cal and Physics. Glynis would get in fights with me because of how absolutely ignorant I was in physics, REFUSING TO LEARN at any given cost. And that's when Mrs. McRenyolds found out people were cheating.

And she split us up. And I had to learn physics one day.

And that was the only day.

To anyone who's a sophomore or younger, or to someone who might decide to take Pre-Cal your senior year, do NOT FUCKING DO IT. Jeremy Garrett says it was "the worst decision of his life." I'll just be totally frank - when somebody says that about a class, it HAS TO suck.

So me and Jared Wilson started cheating TERRIBLY on tests. We would use review sheets, we would use whatever the fuck we could to pass. And everyone else followed our lead, except Blake Moyer, who is going to be a calculus professor at some major university.

The plan worked. My grades skyrocketed, Jared and I laughed and laughed during more and more painful classes of Pre-Cal, and I actually got some sleep. I had nothing to worry about except passing Pre-Cal and Physics, and I did.

I'm not really sure why I was just so bad in Pre-Cal. It could definitely be my resiliance to do any work, or it could be that Mr. Smith would put examples of problems on the board and we'd look at him like he was a fucking moron. And the thing was, many people felt that way about him. But I loved him, cause he never caught me cheating.

There were several times though that we couldn't cheat. People would talk during the announcements, and he would punish the whole class with a pop quiz. And guess what? We'd all fail miserably, but he wouldn't count it. If you were anyone in Pre-Cal, you would pass. And he wouldn't fail you unless you had no fucking clue in the galaxy what you were doing.

Many of you might be shocked I'm writing this all on the internet. But, let me be honest with all of you, dishonesty in high school means nothing. If you get caught, you're fucked, but if you don't, it's sorta like this: You'll never have to remember the assignment again until your final exam, and after that, it was down the fucking trash-can. I remember NOTHING from the Pre-Cal I actually did learn, because all of it was bullshit. Every lesson, I would ask Mr. Smith what job profession needed this type of mathematics. And he would say every time, "math teachers" or something really "clever" and try to be funny. We weren't too amused. Jeff and I loved when he made fun of Summer Ruddick though.

It was also hard to concentrate in the class knowing Clair McPherson was there. Clair, hating me with all heart, sat two seats across from me, with Jeff sandwiched in the middle. And she hated him too.

In physics, it was a different story. I was in between all my best friends at the time - Cassie Silva, Jenna Brockman, Nick Reasoner, and Jeff Delmonico. And, to make matters even worse, my girlfriend was sitting diagonally one seat away. And she helped me a lot.

That's something I really haven't talked about - the Glynis factor. In our second month of dating, Glynis Haifley and I would be a combined force of paradox: Glynis always wrote down notes; I always slept. Glynis would always tell me to shut up during lectures, and I'd tell her to shut the hell up for ruining my conversation with classmates. Overall, it was a good relationship.

Physics was even harder to concentrate when Cassie used to leave the room everyday. She claims to this day that she went to the band hall to rest because she didn't have any iron in her body or some shit. But, eyewitness accounts have told me that more than once she's left school right when 7th period started.

And I would get so mother fucking pissed off she did this.

You might ask me what the fuck this has to do with The Warzone. Everything. Everybody involved in every scenario had something to do with TW, because usually I would speak online with all these people about how terrible these classes were. Jared would scan completed review sheets and send them to me online. The review sheets were exactly like the test.

April was a heavy load of assignments. TW in the beginning was very slow in April, and I was fearing that we couldn't do anything as grandioso as before. But, certain ideas came to our heads, and this began the period when I decided to take charge and do what I do best: Spreading comedy, ending stress in school, and totally diss public education in this god-forsaken city as much as I possibly could.

And it worked.

Just a note

On April 13, I attended the Powder Puff game at Sterling Stadium only to see the senior class get jipped of a title for their game. The seniors were so pissed off, and all the girls were going fucking insane. I pissed more of them off by saying that "Cheating is a good thing" because that's what all the senior girls accused them of. There's some pictures on April 15, 2003 Go Digital if you guys want to see. But, this began the c/o 2004 dynasty of being 2-0 at Powder Puff games. Powder Puff, if you're just from another planet, is when the junior girls face the senior girls in football, with usually male football players for the school being their couches of respecting grade level. The males are also the cheerleaders.

The Masticators begins

This is how it began: Jeff and I were feigning for some bacon. For some reason, I had this HUGE obsession with bacon all school year. I just loved it so much. And it was amazing. And nobody can really deny it, except Ayla Casey, on how good bacon really is. So why not take pictures of us WITH bacon, WITH Tommy McMahon, because everything me and Tommy talked about had to do solely with bacon. And that's how it started.

April 16, 2003 turned out to be one of the beginnings of the best TW idea ever. A fuckfest of pictures with food, and us making the food, and us showing the progress of the food.

Once everyone left, and I loaded the pictures onto my computer, I began using clever subtitles without curse words and the awesome pictures to basically depict a weird cooking show of sorts. The pictures were actually extremely funny, and lots of people were IMing me telling me what a great idea this was.

It was then that I came up with the name "The Masticators." It also caught the enthusiasm of Tim Brockman, a sophomore employee for about 8 or 9 months. Tim joined the crew for the next Mastication.

The Bid for Presidency

On the announcements, the anchors (if that's what you want to call them) spoke of the next elections for Student Council. In all three years at Sterling, I never once thought I'd actually want to run for Student Council, but since I was a junior, and I was pretty well-known with classmates of all grades, I decided to show some interest.

In a pure example of me never following teachers orders and doing what I do best, not doing school work, I spoke with Peri Arthur, a semi-good friend of mine for the past two years or so, and we spoke briefly about running jointly for Student Council, her as vice president, and me as president. The idea kind of went over her head, because she had no idea I was actually serious about the bid.

It was Friday, April 18, that I made a bold decision the second I walked into my first period class. I wasn't going to follow the teacher's instructions, and I was going to write a speech: The best speech I've ever fucking wrote in my life. And I was going to model it by listening in my head the best speech George W. Bush ever gave in his life, the one after September 11th, in front of Congress in the House chamber. Although I have never liked George Bush, actually, I hate him, I loved the speech, and I loved how every single second gripped the attention of the listener. And that's what I planned on doing, writing a speech that was interesting from the first paragraph to the last paragraph.

Here's the speech, for beginning to end. The first class that I delivered it was in my United States History AP Class with Mrs. May.

"For over 3 years, the senior class (now current junior) has been ruled by a very odd dictatorship, but a dictatorship none the less. The president of the senior class, Sarah Guest, has had her reign too long, and must be stopped.

"Every April, elections are held for the student body, many who don't vote, because all the candidates are always the same: Gorgeous, ditzy however still with some intelligence, high in class rank, and most importantly - rich. With rich comes snobby, and snobby represents the political party of Preps.

"Every April, the ones who are running are sadly the ones who intimidate all the voters who are actually ignorant and that's how they sell votes. Has any current officer in the council actually campaigned to the point where you know HER views? Notice the emphasis on HER, because there are currently two men in a fifty-five student council, one of which is graduating this year, and one who has so many muscles and is regarded as the prettiest boy in the school. No - there are no male members for the junior class, much less any who are officers at all.

"No one challenges the "mighty" "gorgeous" and "popular" Sarah Guest because of everything she is. She's the junior class icon for organizations. Sarah could win president of an all-boy club sponsoring lesbian woman if she wanted to. Now, I have nothing against Sarah. If you've ever met her, there's no girl as sweet, innocent, and charming. What WONDERFUL qualities for a class of 512! These qualities scare her opponents. That's why since freshman year, she's literally had no competition! And since there's no competition, Sarah always wins without trying. No one dares to challenge her.

"Based on student council rules, only officers (current at president, vice-president, secretary, and 2nd vice president) may run for Student Body. However, there are no rules, regulations, or requirements to run for class president.

"It's at this time I'm going to announce my candidacy for the 2003-2004 school year election for president of the senior class, the most important year of our lives.

"Many of you are shocked, happy, or mad about my current goal in life. Many of you have no idea what the president of a class must do. Actually, neither do I. Why? Because no one discusses it. Sarah doesn't publicly speak like I do in classes, and when she does, it's pretty irrelevant anyway.

"Sarah is so busy. She has cheerleading. She has other clubs. She actually has a very public life. Me? What do I do? Nothing. Wasted leadership down the drain. Many of you know my credentials. Many of you see me as a political figure. Yes, I may be in the wrong state, but nonetheless, I'm still a figure. If I make Student Council, I will attend ALL MEETINGS, unlike many members, and work 1000%, yes, 10 people at once, to make your senior year the most successful year for seniors ever.

"Many of you are calling me a hypocrite under your breath. The Warzone's slogan is Anti School, Anti-Prep, and Anti-Government.

"In regards to school, I hate it. We all do. I'm not running for the school. I'm not going to represent Student Council. I'm going to represent you, members of one society. The stupidity of the school system will not have the honor of having me a board if it wasn't to help you succeed for senior year. I'm running for president.

"In regards to government, because this is a form of government, I'm not against the government unless it's right. Texas has so many countless stupid rules and regulations that Wyoming looks better for the average criminal. In my case, the government will be right, fair, and equal to all, including the preps, and any high society that intervenes with high school elections. I'm running for president.

"In regards to what I just mentioned, preps, I'm not running for a prep office. It was only designated to look as if preps ran the joint of council because no one wants to challenge the party. Only a select few on council aren't preps, snobs, and jerks. Sarah is not any of that, but her followers are, and she gets advice from them. Lets put an anti-prep in office - me. I'm running for president.

"I'm not doing this alone however. One of the most prestige individuals of all of Student Council, the smartest girl in the junior class, and a good friend Peri Arthur, will be my un-official running mate for vice president against Kari Nealy (sp?). With both of us supporting each other, the chances of both of us succeeding to make high office will be closer to reality. In the upcoming week and a half, many of you will see hundreds of fliers, posters, and other advertising devices for me and Peri. Convincing my friends won't be a problem but convincing 512 students will.

"The elections will be on April 23 in the commons. Even if you hate what I just said, vote. Pick the leaders for your senior class, and support the leaders for Student Body. I guarantee you no one else will make a speech like this. I want you to know who I am and what I'm about. Many of you already do.

"Have faith in me, trust in your friends, and vote for Matt Impelluso as your president, and Peri Arthur as your vice-president.

"May there be peace on Earth and May God Bless Sterling High School."

My third period class was cheering. It was the most incredible feeling I've ever had in my life. When I said I was running for council, several people in the room automatically began cheering anyway. The speech, in almost every funny part, was recognized by my diverse class, many of them in every social category at RSS. Brad wrote his favorite quote of the speech on the board: "If I make Student Council, I will attend ALL MEETINGS, unlike many members, and work 1000%, yes, 10 people at once, to make your senior year the most successful year for seniors ever."

The bell rang, everyone laughed, cheered, and everyone told me that they were actually pumped up for a student election. My speech put half of the classes mindset in a 180, and suddenly people actually began to realize that this actually might be important...but only for a second.

With adrenaline running through my body, I went to Pre-Cal, and I showed the speech to many friends. Jared thought it was hysterical and awesome. Lauren Warford gave me this weird look in a way, but I could tell that she was still for the cause. Others read it as I passed it around the room, and I could tell some people really enjoyed it.

My biggest showdown of the afternoon was Mrs. May's 5th period class. There were many different types of students in there, and I was afraid with the already infamous reputation 5th period had in pissing Mrs. May off that they wouldn't give the speech a chance.

I was dead wrong. Before I even began speaking, half the class knew why I was in the room, and word of the speech I wrote spread around the junior class. When I asked how many people were probably going to vote for me BEFORE I EVEN GAVE THE SPEECH, I was absolutely shocked. 90% of the room raised their hands, and I started shaking. This was probably my biggest school moment that wasn't Governor and First Lady. And I loved it, knowing I was a rebel.

I gave the speech. Many things I thought weren't even that funny came out to be fucking hilarious to some people, and with all the cynergy in the air, I had a feeling that after the speech was done, I would have also changed the minds of people in that class as well.

I was totally fucking right. When I was done, the class cheered just like 3rd period, Glynis was beaming and I'm assuming proud of me, and others complemented my excellent writing skills.

Ok, I know I sound like I'm bragging, but shit, I was running for the 4th most powerful office in school, and the most powerful office for the grade levels. I have to be a little bit proud of myself.

Nothing was going to get in my way of this election. Peri told me she was actually excited about having me as a running mate, and at first, our previous conversations struck to her as stupid because she thought I was kidding and that I didn't want to work at all on achieving this very weird goal for me to accomplish. Of all people in the school, I never thought I'd try to represent the people FOR the school, just against it.

6th period was a little bit of a change for me. Many people were gone from Mrs. May's 6th period class, although lots of people in there really enjoyed it. Dottie and Steve told me it was the best speech they've ever heard. That suprised me a whole lot, and it also gave me courage to give my speech in front of people not in AP Classes. So, I did.

I walked into Mrs. Smith's American History Regular class, where Jared Wilson, Keith Wise, Eryn Cotten, and for the first class all day, an opponent, Kari Nealy, were attending - and let me tell you this much - I stirred up a lot of trouble going in that class. The class was almost in a 85-15 split, with 85 laughing and enjoying the speech, and with 15% of it looking at me like I was totally insane. The word prep and snob came out a whole lot to people who were actually in council, and some got offended. But, its not like I was lying. And I never said running for president was going to be a friendly contest.

The only problem I had about the entire situation was who I was running against, because the sad thing was, I actually was alright friends with Sarah Guest. We talked almost every day sophomore year, thanks to some guy that was impersonating her on the internet while I was at one of Jonathan's crazy parties.

I was incredibly excited to begin working on my ad campaign. All weekend, I was making new flyers and showing them to different people. I even made a campaign website so I could use the flyers to direct them to information about me and Peri. It was so professional that I felt like I was almost running for government office.

Peri loved the flyer ideas. I was absolutely ready to begin my campaign Monday morning.

It was in 3rd period that I was immediately brought to a halt.

I know that this was a conspiracy. I'll let everyone know right now that it is. Mrs. Smith knew that me running for president and the very extreme likelyhood of me crushing Sarah Guest was all to real. She knew that I could sway so many votes to my side because everyone has been scared to run against Sarah Guest. Girls just put their name on the ballot and they get absolutely massacred. Sarah Guest was undoubtebly the most popular girl in the entire school almost - and Mrs. Smith loved her.

Mrs. Smith came up to me before 3rd period and called me outside her room to tell me the most terrible thing I've ever heard in my life, even to this day.

If you remember, this is the same year that I recieved OCS for my deal in band almost a year ago. Even though it happened my sophomore year, it was dealt with my junior year. I only recieved one conduct report, which fooled her for Governor and First Lady; She never even checked what the conduct report was for and my actions and it slipped by her.

Because of some bullshit loss of honors rule due to any assignment to OCS or ISS, I was immediately ousted from the Senior Class President election.

I didn't know what to feel. I was so angry. I was so mad. Although my Governor deal was just a joke, I was so serious about this goal I had, and I was not going to let anything get in my way for achieving it. I never thought once about my OCS assignment and loss of honors, because, like I said before, I WAS IN FUCKING GOVERNOR AND FIRST LADY.

To this day, I feel as if this was a huge conspiracy. Mrs. Smith HAD TO have checked up on me just for a special cause, because she wanted me out as fast as possible. She, however, didn't pull a huge bitch move and let me run and win, and then tell me I couldn't do it. She stopped me before I even printed out one flyer to hand out in public.

After spending money for and investing time in creating the web-site, creating the speech, and trying to help Peri become vice-president, I realized that what I did in band ruined my life and set me completely into another path. I was so pissed off about Mr.Clem's actions that I knew I could never EVER listen to his commands again. And I made sure of that.

On April 21, I sent Sarah Guest a resignation letter. I even told her how I had a crush on her sophomore year. It was so sad to write, so very fucking sad. The election was so close, and I wanted my all to run for president. She wrote me back within a day through the school mail, and I read it in my theatre class. She apologized for me not being able to run for president, and she wrote about all the responsibilites and duties it takes to be a president and how its not an easy job. Easy for you to fucking say. You've done it for three fucking years.

On April 23, Sarah Guest crushed Shelby Swint, becoming the Senior Class President. Peri lost to Kari Nealy in the Vice President running, and Allison Page lost to another girl for secretary. The Matt Impelluso team lost by school default - but I didn't lose to some voters. Several people told me that they wrote my name very large on the ballots, and the electors at the table just stared at them.

The day I gave the speech is going to be sadly to say one of the best days of my life. When I came home that day, I had everything I wanted: I was running for class president, I had a girlfriend, I had great friends, and I had a great time running The Warzone.

After I heard I couldn't run, I felt differently about everything. I hated life. I hated the fact that school always fucked me over, no matter what I attempted on doing. This moment made me hate school more than ever, and waking up in the morning was getting harder and harder. I wasn't even a senior yet.


But life goes on, right? Right. So I thought. The next week, I was dreading TAKS. I decided that another Masticaton needed to happen quick, and I would continue updating and I would continue taking as many pictures neccessary to hold up to the demand of having a very funny, informative, up-to-date website for anyone who was bored when they got home from school.

In one of the most funniest Mastications ever, me, Jeff, Tommy, and Tim who just joined the team, create Queso - Velvetta Cheese and Rotel in my microwave.

Once I put it up on the website, the hits were amazing. I woke up the next morning and cheered. My idea was working. The idea was simple: Since Wednesday - Thursday is the middle of the week, usually its the time when most people are at their houses during a school week. Most people are usually on the internet mid-week, doing projects and so forth. And during breaks, people would visit TW. My power-punch Wednesday and Thursdays sent the hits in a crazy direction. The middle of the week would always have more traffic than the weekends. (For future reference, I totally changed that theory in September of 2003, later this year)

Queso, to this day, is the second most popular Mastication we've ever had. And I have to say that it was probably one of my favorites because of how insane it was. We had such a good time doing the Mastications that I didn't want to stop. We already planned a Mastication for next Wednesday called "Apple Pie."

With the weekend coming up, I just wanted to sleep. I was tired of all the commotion this week had caused, and I just wanted to chill the fuck out.

A Terrible Anniversary

And chill the fuck out I did. Sunday, April 27 was me and Glynis's two month anniversary. Yippee-Ki-Fuckin-Yay. Anyway, Glynis and I had breakfast at my house, and then we just hung around the house. After a while, we got bored, and we decided to walk around my neighborhood and through Honda Hills.

While we were in Honda Hills, we both noticed an emergency vehicle, maybe even more than one, speeding down Main Street. We didn't even see it - we only heard it, but we could hear exactly where it was, so we looked through the trees toward Main Street anyway.

At the time, I had no fucking clue where the fire truck was going, nor did I fucking care. Glynis and I walked back to my house and we started to watch a movie.

It was around 5:00 P.M. that I recieved a devestating phone call from one of my best friends at the time, Tommy McMahon. I never expected to hear this from anyone. He told me that Tim Stuart, the same Tim Stuart that rebeled with me in January against our fucktard Computer Science teacher - was in a horrific car accident and was t-boned by a Jeep, and probably wasn't going to make it.

When I got off the phone, I told Glynis was happened. She was shocked as well. When she heard it, I brought her home, and I came back to try and find out the most news I could possibly hear about the incident. I was just trying to make sure the rumor wasn't true, and that my good friend was still alive.

During the day, I talked to Harrison Fama and others. I gathered information that Tim was taken to a hospital in the Medical Center and that doctors were working on trying to keep him alive, at least in this crucial stage. He was in intensive care. Family members rushed to the scene. I wished I could have been there, but I knew it really wasn't my place, even though Tim and I were still really good friends. No one I knew wanted to drive to Houston and bring me to the hospital, so I just sat and waited.

It was late at night that a source I can't think of right now told me about his condition. The source told me that as long as Tim makes it through Monday, he'll probably survive. I was relieved that it would only be a day's time to know if Tim was going to make it - and I knew he had the strength to do it, and I just hoped the doctors would do the best they could to keep him through Monday.

April 28, in my perspective

I woke up in the morning tired as usual. I tried to just not focus on the obvious all day long because I wanted to think of happy things. And the more happy things I thought about, the faster it would come till Tuesday till I knew Tim would probably survive the horrific accident.

Lauren Warford and Shelby Swint stopped me before I even got into my first period class and they asked me if I knew anything. I told them that if he survived today, that he would probably make it. It gave them some encouragement. Still, many people in my classes were very, very quiet. Hutchins said nothing on the announcements about the incident, and I was very happy that he hadn't. The second he would come on would just mean something horrible, and I didn't want to hear it.

The more and more I went on through the day, the more and more I heard conflicting stories. It was during lunch that I was just trying to scramble all my thoughts together and just try to go through the rest of the day. I tried, and I tried, and I tried.

It was in 5th period that I finally heard more news about the accident, and all of it was terrible news. Someone said Tim had passed away, and that he'd been taken off life support.

I sat there, looking at my music stand in Music Theory, trying to comprehend the horrific words. No one this close to me has ever passed away. I knew Tim more than my great-grandmother who passed away in 1996. I didn't know what to do. I finally made a decision, and it was what I do best: Cut class.

I walked out of Theory with several people and I walked to the lunch room. While I was walking, a girl I do not want to name cause she's such a fucking cunt started pissing me off in the hallway, totally oblivious to what I just heard. I was so angry, I yelled, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" as loud as I could into her face, right next to the Star room. People stared at me like I was nuts.

I walked into the lunch room. People were crying. Everywhere, there was mass hysteria. It was as if the entire cafeteria knew Tim. Everywhere I looked, there would be one person crying in some group. People were running out of the cafeteria to the conseulor's office. Some people were crying uncontrolably with their friends, and all holding each other.

I walked up to a table of sophomores at the time. All of them were teary-eyed and silent. I stood at the foot at the table and I began speaking about Tim, and telling them that we will get through this terrible moment that every high school student should never experience: Losing a friend at such an early age. It was almost as if I was preaching to the kids about ways to get up and continue on but never forget Tim and always remember that he will always be with us in our hearts.

It was such an emotional moment, that Tim Brockman, who is clearly a huge Atheist, lead the table in a prayer. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed. The table came together and we all sulked with each other. People told me that my words helped motivate them, but I didn't care. Seeing people crying kills me - and I tried so hard not to myself.

The bell rang, and I hugged many of my friends. Some of them were still crying, some of them were wiping their eyes. I couldn't believe I had to go to the class I sat RIGHT NEXT TO Tim in. It was terrible.

Parker was standing outside the door, and she just said, "We have to pray. We have to pray." Parker was under the impression that Tim was still alive, and when Burnham and I told her of the news we heard, she told us that Jared, her son, was there at the hospital and she hadn't recieved any word that he officially passed away.

That gave us some hope. Class started quietly. Nobody really said anything. Parker didn't teach. We sat around moping the whole period. Burnham and I were just sitting next to each other. Ben was terribly silent. We sat in silence.

And that's when Hutchins came on. Whenever he began the usual speech he gives when a student at RSS passes a way, I almost lost it. People in the room ran out, crying. I stood there shivering. Burnham started tearing up. Parker stood quiet at her desk. It was....something I never, in my life, want to be apart of again. The absolute helplessness I felt in my body was so incredible that I felt as if I was going to burst in a billion pieces. I wished that Tim would just be right next to me, ready to throw ice at a substitute teacher, ready to give me some of his chicken nuggets, and ready to make me laugh with a racist joke.

The bell rang. Burnham went home with his sister. I went up to Physics, hating the fact that I had to go. No one was there though. That day, the juniors were in a SAT seminar, and mostly everyone was gone. Glynis and I were there, and so were a couple of other students. Ironically, we were all friends of Tim. It was then that Mrs. McRenyolds tried to comfort us with her wisdom. She was crying while she was talking, because Tim was one of her students. We stood there, tearyeyed, listening to every word she said. I didn't even go to a conseulor, because what the fuck could they do? But Mrs. McRenyolds knew Tim, and she spoke so foundly of him, as any person would do that knew him. Her words were beautiful, and they made us feel a little bit better. But still, I felt like shit.

TW's immediate interaction

The front page changed immediately to an incredible close up picture of Tim Stuart, with the TW logo in the middle. No person in TW history has ever had a picture on the front cover totally alone besides myself. (and that was in 2004). No person in TW history has ever been dedicated a column except Kaci Fink's death after my freshman year. I hardly knew her though.

The column I wrote for Tim was so very hard, but I wrote it, and I pushed on. I finished the column quickly, and I put it up. Immediately after that, I searched for "Tim" on my computer, and quickly made a Go Digital memorial of Tim. By 3:45, TW already had a Tim Memorial, and I dedicated everything to him.

Instantly, people began IMing me saying the column was beautiful, and that some of them cried when they went to the main page to see Tim's face. I stared at the picture for quite sometime myself. I stared at all the pictures. I laughed when I clicked on the picture of Tim pissing in the urinal. I blasted Nine Inch Nails in my room, making the mood even more sobering for me than I ever imagined.

At about 4:45, Burnham and I started talking online about ways to dedicate ourselves to Tim. After a little bit of talking, we came up with this idea: A shirt in dedication to Tim that everyone can wear in his honor, as soon as possible.

I began working furiously on the design of the shirt. It was quite simple. The front idea wasn't going to change in my standpoint. I wanted Tim's name to be the only thing on the front. On the back, Burnham gave the suggestion of a Ninja, because dear Tim loved Ninjas so much. I found a perfect picture. Some people say it looks like a witch, but it looks like a Ninja to me. I wrote the following words on the back of the shirt:

"Tim, we'll never forget you, or the power of the ninjas you brought upon us. We love you. We'll see you up there soon."

Right under it, I put the link for the website in an arch. I wanted it to be at the bottom of the shirt and to not take up much attention at all, but I still wanted it on there so people could see pictures of Tim, read columns about Tim, and have a chance in the future to order more t-shirts once the shirt was printed.

The Warzone became the internet memorial for Tim Stuart. I wasn't proud of that. I was sad that such a thing would ever have to happen. I felt as if my job title was to make people laugh and inform them about what's going on in Baytown - and I did. I didn't make anyone laugh in the column. It was serious, one of the most serious ones I've ever written. I felt as if it was my job to bring Tim to the viewers, because Tim was such an intriquite part of tons of people's lives.

I began to realize how stupid I felt for not putting Tim's employee info on The Warzone sooner. This never before seen profile of Tim was found on my computer a couple of months ago. This is Tim's employee profile:

The Tim-inator


Username: The Tim-inator
Real Name: Tim Stuart
Favorite Bands: Finch, HIM, Taking Back Sunday.
Favorite Web-site:TW5K
Most hated music genre: Rap, Christian, Reggae
Favorite song: Sigillum Diaboli - HIM
Best accomplishement: I became a ninja.
Favorite Subject: Physics
Funniest Class: Theatre arts.
I love: naked babes, fast cars.
Spouse: none.. if (1 <= spouse) then (spouse==lonely); endl;
Best Friends: Matt, Josh, Ben, Brian.
AIM S/N: rsstim04

Everything that he wrote is exactly everything I remember about him. He loved the band HIM, I knew that about him specifically because he would always talk about them. I knew his funniest class was theatre, because me and him reigned in that class as being class clowns. He loves fast cars and naked babes...and that's exactly what we would talk about all day.

I specifically remember when Tim told me about how he landed his 93 Corvette in a lake of water. I remember when Tim told me about his father buying him a new dirt bike. And I'd always remember how Tim knew how to code so well, and you can see that under "Spouse" in his employee page.

Many people were totally oblivious that Tim actually was supposed to be an employee of The Warzone. Well, on April 28, he became one. He was a memorial for all of the employees, and in August, I put him in the Employee section under the "Untouchables," what I consider the most prestige TW employees. Tim deserves an even higher status than that, because he was such a great guy, and he would never do anything to harm anyone.

Immediately, I began making flyers for Tim's shirt. I called Gorilla and spoke with John and briefly told him the situation. He heard about Tim's accident already. He told me that if I charged $9 a shirt, I would probably break even and not make any profit. I used that $9 for the shirt price on the flyers, knowing that was easy for anyone to afford.

I began sending the flyers to people for them to print out so we could get them to as many people possible.

And with all this happening, the next four days of class would be so dreadful: We had TAKS. And that made it all more worse.

The Busiest Week

I began school Tuesday by passing out as much flyers as possible. Immediately, I began getting a huge response from the shirts. Many people were interested, and they began remembering the $9 price.

The day was pretty progressive. I showed the flyers to as many people as I could, and all of them loved the idea. All of Tim's friends suggested that the shirt be orange, in memory of Tim's favorite color, and his ambition to go to the University of Texas @ Austin.

After a long day, I went home to check out the hits for The Warzone, as I usually do after school every day. I almost fell on the floor. On April 28, 2003, The Warzone hit the biggest one day total it has ever had - over 4,000 hits. I was so shocked that I didn't know what to say. The site stood the same, with the column about Tim being the spotlight of the memorial. The Go Digital page of Tim was the highest hit page out of any page I had on the web site.

Although Tim never did get newsboard access or contribute to the website in any way except by buying a Hot Babe shirt, he contributed something he never thought he would - the most hits any employee has ever brought to the website. It was so sad to see that Tim's page was on top, because it shouldn't have been. The memorial shouldn't have existed, because Tim should still be here today. And I hated the fact that I couldn't sit next to my good friend every day in Theatre.

On Wednesday, I was completely bombarded by hundreds of people who were coming up to me asking for Tim shirts. People began paying me immediately, and I started writing down names on scratch paper. During a fire drill, I wrote down maybe about 10 names. Representatives I picked out were giving me their own pieces of scratch paper and money with people they talked to who wanted shirts.

Since it was Wednesday, a Mastication was scheduled to take place. I decided that the tragedy shouldn't postpone the Mastication, but I also decided that it would be in memory of Tim Stuart.

And if Tim was our guardian angel, the Mastication ended up being absolutely incredible. Apple Pie, the most popular Mastication of all time, was absolutely insane. We went to McDonalds to buy apple pie, and then we went to Kroger to buy more apple pie. We were sampling different kinds. For 45 minutes, I was totally concentrated on the event, and for the first 45 minutes since the call I recieved on Sunday, I almost forgot what happened.

After about an hour and fifteen minutes of Masticating and eating the pie, my mom called me and told me about Josh Ivey's phone call. Josh, Tim's best friend, called during the day to tell me that Tim's parents wanted to meet me, and that they wanted to buy Tim shirts! I was completely shocked and I couldn't believe anything like this would happen. I was so scared to walk to Tim's house because I didn't know how to even begin to face his parents. I wasn't afraid that I wrote something offensive at all, I was afraid to see how they were feeling.

Instead of feeling completely out of place, I felt right at home meeting the Stuart's and speaking with them about their son. Family members gathered in the kitchen and they all began to thank me for my extremely kind words that I wrote about their son, and thanked me for creating a t-shirt in Tim's memory. I couldn't even begin to tell them how welcome I was - I told them that I'd do anything for Tim and his family. They were so appreciative. Almost all the people at Tim's house ordered a Tim shirt. The Stuart family alone bought fifteen. I didn't know how to feel. I felt as if it were my mission to let everyone who wanted to show Tim up in the sky that we loved him by wearing his color and sporting his name.

By Friday, over 120 people ordered Tim shirts. I was so busy working on spreadsheets and getting the sizes correct that I almost couldn't take it anymore. Many people going to Tim's wake, which was to be held on Friday, still wanted shirts. I accepted money at Tim's own wake, which I thought was more than weird, and I included them on the spreadsheet to give to Gorilla.

With ranges of shirts going from youth medium to Adult XXL, from the ages of 5 to 65, with every race and every social group chiming together, the Tim shirt orders were delivered to Gorilla. When I left the business and I counted the money at home, I realized something staggering: I had $210 of Tim Shirt money that I didn't use. Because there was so many shirts, John at Gorilla knocked down the price with every interval of 12 we bought. Therefore, the shirt actually cost less than originally thought of.

I'll get to where the $210 went in a minute, but let me go in chronicological order.

My first wake

I didn't know what to expect. I couldn't believe I was going to see Tim for the first time in a week. Except this time I'd see him, he'd be in his finest suit, and he'd be lifeless - something many of us couldn't comprehend. Many people were crying during the wake. The line to see Tim was so incredibly long that it extended out of the chapel and into the lobby of Navarre Funeral Home out near Country Club. I spoke with many people, and I spoke with the family of Tim's.

Seeing Tim was unreal. I felt so painfully numb looking at him. He looked so beautiful in the open casket. He looked so real. He looked like he was in a deep sleep. I just hope that whatever you're doing Tim, you're seeing lots of naked girls. Cause that's what I'd want to do when I'm not alive.

At the wake, I told Tim Senior about the extra money I recieved from the Tim shirt orders. I told him that I decided the money should go to the family. He told me that he wouldn't accept it and that I should put it in for a better cause, like the Sterling Library. He told me they accept any type of donation given to them. I didn't like the idea because I wished he would just accept the money, but I didn't argue. It was his decision, and anything he would like me to do, I would serve him. I felt like a servant of the people - only to give Tim everything that he rightfully deserved.

In return, Tim blessed TW with the most hits we've ever recieved in a week. The site was skyrocketing with new visitors. Every day, it was more and more of a shock to see how many people would view his memorial. I didn't know how to feel about the situation. I knew that if Tim hadn't passed away, nothing like this would have ever happened. I felt as if TW stole these hits in a wrongful way, but then I encouraged myself that all the visitors were there to see Tim, and that's exactly what my mission was, for as many people to see pictures of him as possible.

The Mastication on Wednesday also brought in thousands of more hits, hits that I didn't know where the fuck they came from. It ironically turns out that all my current class of 2007 friends knew Tim, and some of them had been going to The Warzone months before I even met them. The surge were from people all around - Tim's family, friends of Tim from other schools, and visitors that usually read The Warzone daily.

I wasn't prepared for the funeral. It would be my first. And it would be the most incredible thing I would ever see in Baytown, Texas.

The Funeral

Hundreds of people missed Tim's funeral, and for a reason that would piss anyone off: The SAT's, a fucking terrible test that shouldn't be used to judge anyone's logical thinking. Glynis, Chad, and others had to miss the ceremony because they pledged their allegiance to make it into a good college.

I, on the other hand, was extremely lucky to get rid of my SAT's in April. I was even contemplating taking the May test, but I didn't. Thank the lord.

Dottie and Steve picked me up in the morning. Steve's brother, John was there as well. Tim Brockman was with me as well. The day before, Dottie and Steve witnessed me chasing Lady with christmas rolling paper and with a rope. I obviously cannot rope any fucking cattle because I'm from the North. They laughed a whole lot, being what the day was, and that was the topic of conversation. At least we didn't feel uncomfortable.

But as soon as we got to the church, that all changed. First Presbyterian near Lee High School was jammed packed, so jammed that at first I thought I had to stand, but the thing was, PEOPLE WERE STANDING. There were so many people there that there was no room to sit. A sea of high school kids were crying. I sat next to Tim and just watched and listened silently to the preacher tell stories about Tim.

What surprised me was the mentioning of the Hot Babe Shirt. The preacher said that Tim took the shirt from Megan Cambern, his cousin, and wore it to school one day as a joke. He was dead wrong in every way, but still everyone laughed. It was as if we were listening to this man speak of Tim's life, and it was a joyous ceremony because it was uplifting and very humorous. When the bagpipes played though, it was all business. I began getting teary-eyed, and we walked out of the church. I saw Mr. Shaw and other noteable figures from school. The bagpipes set a mood unlike any other. The feeling of helplessness set in.

What was to happen next is still probably the most magnificant thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I can't even begin to comprehend or fathom the incident because it was just so insane.

From Market Street, a line of cars began following the police towards the cemetary closest to 146 past Alexander right off Ferry Road near the HL&P Plant and Cedar Bayou Methodist Church. This line wasn't a small line. That's why this is so insane. 146, from Market Street to Ferry Road, had a line of cars. If you don't think that's a lot, travel the distance. The entire road was filled with cars from the funeral. There was so many cars that you couldn't see the end if you were in the middle. And I couldn't, because I was in the middle. With an average speed of 20 mph, we got to the cemetary in about 20 minutes.

At the cemetary, there was a similar service, but this was just for the burial. Friends said their last goodbye to Tim through the casket. As the hours started trickling, people began to leave. I left moderately close to the end with Steve, Dottie, and John.

For the rest of the weekend, I thought about the funeral. It was so insane how fast everything happened. In less than a week, all of this happened to everyone at once - and all of a sudden everyone's life was full of ways to dedicate it to Tim.

And the days go on

The second I walked into school on May 5, I went straight to the library to donate the $210. The librarians were shocked. They were so thankful for the donation. On the donation papers, I wrote that "The Warzone & Friends" donated to the cause, because, in a way, we did. All the money given to the library was extra money we didn't need because the shirts were cheaper. And, since almost everyone could be the one that donated, everyone was recognized. Later in 2003, I found out the book titles donated to Tim. Sports and comedy reigned in the choices.

I later told the librarians that a copy of Farhenheit 451 should be used in the donation, and I gave them a great explanation: Tim probably loved to burn books and / or see them burn to the ground.

The week was even busier. As Juniors, we began experiencing the insane "AP Testing" at Sterling. Friends from Lee would come to school to take tests in the oh-so-cold 2nd floor gym near Strubbe's room. Some of us were lucky to get credit, some of us weren't, like myself.

Because of all this, I had to take my Music Theory test during the week. It conflicted with my Mastication schedule. I got out on Wednesday at 6:00, steaming. I couldn't believe it took so long to get over with the Music Theory testing.

By the time I got home, Jeff decided to begin the Mastication without me because he couldn't get a hold of me. I blew up, and when Jeff came over, I cursed my way into almost ruining a friendship because of how ignorant I am. I was so fucking pissed that I wasn't in the Mastication and it went on without me, but the thing was, I shouldn't have been. Jeff took pictures, and they had a good time. That's all that really mattered. At the time, I didn't see it that way. I just went fucking ballistic. I blamed it all on my Music Theory test, and truthfully, that's the whole cause of the incident, so in theory, this is all Mr. Clem's fault that I was in the class anyway. Fucking bitch.

One day later after Jeff and I make up, John from Gorilla calls me to tell me that the shirt orders are in. It was Thursday, and I realized that I could make all the deliveries on Friday.

That was probably one of the worst decisions I ever made. I walked in to school carrying three HUGE boxes of shirts, with spreadsheets of everyone's name and size. I sorted the shirts with representatives, and I handed the representatives stacks of shirts to hand out to the people on their list. Incredibly, I was only left with 10 shirts, and every other shirt was given to their rightful owner. I have no fucking clue how I managed to do this without fucking anything up. One girl got her shirt late and bitched, but honestly, she should shut her fucking mouth because she has no place to even begin talking after all the work I did to make the shirts and how much time it took to pass them out.

I was in and out of class all day finding people to give shirts too. In 7th period, Candy Kovalcik helped me in the Junior office, giving me the classrooms the shirt buyers were currently attending. Runners went to the classrooms and handed them their shirts like it was a school function. I stood in the office working on getting rid of all of them. And like I said, I was only left with 10, and those were all passed out the following week.

On Sunday, I went to the Stuart's house and gave them their shirts. After a brief conversation, I left, and my job was done. I created 135 Tim Shirts for the community of people who loved Tim Stuart, and loved him enough to bare his name on their body on Monday.

The Bullshit T-Shirt Controversy

The following I'm going to write about is something almost none of you have heard about. Some of you have, and some of you might even be involved. Honestly, this is all my personal opinion, and people might disagree with me, but this is my website so I can say whatever the fuck I want, so get over it.

On Monday, when people were wearing the t-shirts, I got some weird message from several people that Justin Holt, Glynis's ex-boyfriend, and Clair McPherson's current boyfriend, decided that he was going to take matters in to his own hands: He put opaque tape across The Warzone's website link, and he began campaigning that I only made the Tim shirts for my own personal benefit for the website to recieve hits.

I almost blew the fuck up. I was so pissed off that I was tearing down shit in the Drama hall. I couldn't even fathom anyone ever thinking I'd so such a terrible thing. Tim was one of my GOOD FRIENDS - these people were making it seem like I was trying to recieve some glory from making these t-shirts. I would do anything I possibly can for Tim, and lots of people knew that.

But the few stupid fucks didn't. These very small amount of people campaigned amongst themselves about what a terrible person I was. Meghan Heintschel, Glynis's best friend, was totally against what I did, telling Glynis that it was so fucked up. Glynis was immediately defending me, because she knew that their assumptions weren't true at all.

Several people were finding out about what happened, and pretty soon, tons of people were coming up to me, supporting me, and telling me that they knew I wasn't some fucking piece of shit who would ever disgrace a good friend of mine. Here's the craziest fucking thing: All these people against me weren't ANYWHERE AS CLOSE as I was to Tim Stuart. They didn't even have the fucking right to speak up about anything involving Tim.

The web site link was put up on the t-shirt because I wanted people to know that till the day the site shut down, and even after that, it will always be a place that will be dedicated to Tim and it would always bare his photos and the column I wrote about him.

Another fucked up thing about the whole situation was their total theory on me recieving more hits from the shirts. On the contrary, the most hits The Warzone recieved was during the week of his car accident, death, wake, and funeral. After that, the hits went down, definitely not back to normal, but they went down significantly enough. There was never a spike of hits the day the shirts went up, but an average level. I never expected the t-shirts to generate any extra hits for the website, because, I'm not a fucking asshole and I loved Tim, and I would never use him for my own personal benefit.

Then more stories started coming to me. Three or four people at lunch in a certain section would write stories about how fucked up I was, how I was a tyrant, and how I was human slime. All the bombardment was so insane. I couldn't even begin to fucking believe that any of this was happening. Ryan Settle later told me that several people were planning on making t-shirts about how I was a tyrant and about how fucked up I was.

Immediately, people started siding on my cause, realizing that these people were complete fucking morons. The chickens also never made the shirt because they're fucking pussies and would never do it for fear of what would probably happen to them if they did: I would have fucking bashed them for all their worth.

It didn't matter though. All of the people in this clique to ruin my life supposedly were all people that were disliked. They didn't know that - they thought they were the coolest people in the entire world. They thought everything they did, everything they thought was absolutely correct, and anything against it was totally wrong. I mean, people have morals, such as in politics, but I'm not going to bash a Republican because I believe fighting in Iraq sucks, he's entitled to his own opinion, I'll just personally keep my comments to myself and then debate about how my morals and ideas should be put instead. These people didn't debate. They would just attack behind everyone's back, and very few people even knew about the t-shirt incident. But, I found out.

All of the people involved in the incident are honestly all shabby people, except for one. Justin Holt, who I'm aquaintances now, was wrongly mislead by his girlfriend and other friends, and he actually apologized indirectly to me for his actions. Tommy set him straight when I told him the situation.

Jeremy Garrett says that only the most heartless man in the world would try to make personal benefit over one's death. And, as almost everyone knew, I wasn't heartless at all. If anybody had any opinion on me, it'd probably be the opposite.

All this tension forced me to be on edge for the next week. I sought advice from dozens of people, all of them giving me the same answer: What I did was not fucked up, because I didn't do it for that reason. I made that t-shirt for Tim, Tim was an employee, the website has a memorial of Tim, and I wanted people to be able to remember that for as long as they have the shirt. I don't give a shit if they don't remember me, but as long as they know that they can access Tim's pictures whenever they want to, then my mission is completed.

If anybody involved is reading this, I have a message for you: You lost. You lost everything you were fighting for in your "Anti-Matt Campaign." I know people do dislike me. They probably have a fucked up reason because they're assholes, but I understand that not everyone can like everyone. But these people involved are some of the most fucked up people I have ever met, and hundreds of people agree that they should be excommunicated from this town immediately.

And all of them won't be remembered. Because although I wrote their names down, no one cares what their names are. The only person's name that matters in this whole situation is Tim. And I did everything I possibly could to dedicate as much as I could to my great, late friend.

The reason why I bring up this story is because so many people never said one word about the site link being on the t-shirts. And after all their campaigning, almost no one joined their cause because they knew why the website link was on there.

This is to the fuckfaces in the campaign: I can get my own fucking hits without using my late friend. And that will be so proven in the next section to come.

The End of A Fucking Crazy Junior Year

The Masticators continued their legacy on The Warzone. Every Wednesday, people would tune in to the website to view the pictures of the week. People would sometimes cuss at me to hurry up and update the site just for the new Mastication.

For a while, I felt like we were a sitcom family. It was Jeff, Tommy, me, Tim, Blake Moyer, and KK Adams. Together, we were a comedic team unbeatable to any other Wednesday show on TV. Fuck what anyone else says, we did a great job entertaining the viewers of The Warzone. On May 14, we made fajitas at Jeff's house. The funny part was Jeff undercooking them.

Sure enough, May had some crazy events to overcome. It wasn't over yet. Right in the middle of the month was the Matrix Reloaded. It wasn't as good as I said it was when I first watched it, because now looking back at it, it kinda sucked for a Matrix movie. But still, I enjoyed it.

During this time, Mrs. May exposed us to Casablanca, the movie, which I hate with all my fucking life, second to My Fair Lady. Musicals SUCK FUCKING COCK, I DON'T CARE WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE. THEY SUCK. PERIOD.

With the final exams coming up, I knew I couldn't fuck too many things up. I decided to keep my time occupied by working on the website, hanging out with new friends, and creating a sexy idea for a banquet.

During this time, many of you might actually be EXTREMELY SURPRISED by this, I was a HUGE "The Broken" fan. I wasn't all into that emo bullshit, but I supposed all of these great guys because I knew that they were talented. And I enjoyed their music, and I enjoyed hanging out with them, especially.

Hanging out with those guys also made me hang out with Tim Brockman even more than usual. Tim was right in the middle of a move, and he helped me come up with a new idea that I had.

I really, really wanted to throw a party for TW. So, I decided to throw the first ever TW Banquet, a nice food, nice gathering fest at my house. I realized that I didn't really have the most proper accomodations, but I didn't care at the time.

It wasn't until Tim told me that we could probably have the banquet at his house that I knew it was going to be very successful. Boasting a swimming pool and large deck in the backyard, I figured that the blast would be incredible.

Dottie and I worked together making cheesecake while my father helped make Baked Ziti and Sausage with Onions. Everything turned out fantastic.

The banquet was very fun. Everyone was very rowdy and having a great time. Even Jeremy thought the party was fun. The cops busted us around 10:30 because the music was too loud, so then I came all over the neighbor's fence. It was an accident in a way, but I didn't care. Fuck the police, and fuck nosy ass neighbors.

"On that topic, I want to say anyone who calls the cops for anything they could handle themselves are fucking cock roach pussy eating bastards. Yes, COCK-ROACH PUSSY. I remember distinictivly one night, my father had the music really loud, and he was even pounding on the fence outside, trying to get some nails in it because it was badly damaged. My next door neighbor came by and asked very politely if we could lower the music and stop the banging because his wife had a headache. Nice. Simple. My father didn't have a problem with it.

"These days, if anyone is speaking louder than the sound of a pin-drop, the cops are called in and everyone dies. Actually, its only in conservative rich prep areas where people don't have the balls to come over and ask politely to turn the music down, which we would of. Why waste the damn policeman's time (even though he was probably jerkin himself off in the car while driving around Baytown, wasting tax payers money on gas) and make them come to a house where innocent kids doing nothing wrong, WHO DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE MUSIC LOUD IN THE FIRST PLACE TO WHERE IT BOTHERED PEOPLE, when you can come and be a man yourself and do that? Yeah, sons of bitches." - May 26 WOMM

Finals and the Lan Parties

On Monday, I began realizing that I had this incredibly terrible pain in my toe. Turns out, my toe was infected, and I cried on my bed for 10 minutes in absolute agony because it felt like my toe was being sliced off for about 4 hours straight, and I couldn't walk for the life of me. After iodine solution and some medication, I was set straight. The next day, I was prepared to host a LAN Party at my house, involving many of my good friends.

On this LAN Party list was Bryan Windemiller, nickname Windy, Lincoln Donaldson, nickname Linc, Harrison Fama, nickname Hurr, Tommy McMahon, nickname T-Bone Steak, Herbie Jaime, nickname "The Penis Mightier" and Tim Brockman, nickname Big Dick McGee.

It might seem weird to you that I hung out with these kiddos on a daily basis, but I did. After final exams, I went with Harry to his house to play more games. Everyone was so into the whole LAN idea that all summer, that's all Harry, Linc, and Mark Roosa would do. I would join them every now and then, and it was always great to hang around such positive people all the time.

Somehow, I managed to pass my final exams. Through cheating from Glynis's test, I managed to pass Physics. I didn't pass Pre-Cal, but I passed the semester. The Pre-Cal test was so much bullshit that I began writing down Cartman quotes as I went. I turned in the test so early that everyone laughed because they knew I totally flunked. But I didn't give a rat's fucking pussy. I was ready to get the FUCK out of Pre-Cal forever, and never take a course like that in my life again.

After my test, I was extremely happy that this school year was over. I never thought in my life that I would be in such a rollercoaster ride. It was fucking insane. At some points, it was even intense. My feelings were rocketed everywhere, and The Warzone represented all of that, with various spurts of energy every now and then.

What I thought, plain and simple, was that my rollercoaster feeling problem would be over forever after this school year.

What I didn't realize was something so terrible that I never even saw coming.

Freshmen girls.