The Sweet Smell Of Blank

Day 1
---I've made a terrible mistake. Refer to the drawing on the left. That green desk is the freak. You know the one; always wearing that jacket that looks like an old rug, wire-frame glasses that hang off a crooked nose, and
...the smell.
The smell is that green, frothy wave descending on poor old orange desk.
I was poor old orange desk. And between choking down toxic fumes and ignoring the freak's class-disrupting questions about NASA, I'd decided to make a change.





Day 2
---I can't believe I was worried that one seat of olfactory distance wouldn't be sufficient! What wonders that little desk has given me...or should I say Wonder? When the fashionably dressed black male entered our classroom, I was already seated, my one desk buffer safely in place. As far as I was concerned, things were going well.
Then something amazing happened:
I smelled him. My goodness, I smelled him. Cologne? Fresh laundry? Summer storms? I don't have the words, but as he took that defensive desk, I didn't need them. His glorious aroma became a shield, and I knew I would never regret a seating assignment ever again.

Day 3
---All the good seats were taken and I was forced in back.
The pinkish glitter are two guidettes who won't shut the fuck up.
The three purple X's are bros that won't shut the fuck up.
The milky brown shit stain is an older woman snoring loudly.
WHEN DID MY CLASS BECOME A DOWNTOWN L-TRAIN!?
...
/tom waits'd