Popularity: 15% [?]

Popularity: 15% [?]

By Sarcastic Squirrel
Excuse me, sir. I totally get how busy you are, with your appointments and meetings and all that fun stuff. I know I’m pretty low on the food chain compared to you, so thanks a million for setting aside some of your valuable time to listen to me. I’ll just be a minute.
I just wanted to formally thank you for running over my cousin Bernice. You’re a real sweetheart.
I mean, it’s not like Bernice was really that important to his family and friends or anything. He was a really nice guy, and he had one of the bushiest tails around, but it’s really not that big of a deal. His newborn squirrel babies and his loving squirrel wife are probably going to be just fine. I mean, at first his mom did seem pretty upset, but hey, she’s always been known to be a little overdramatic. You know how squirrels can be.
And don’t even worry about it. We all understand. You were driving through your subdivision, fussing with the GPS so it gave directions with a sexy English accent. Nice. Anyway, while your eyes were averted for that very important task, do you remember anything out of the ordinary? A little bump, maybe? Know what that was? That was Bernice.
But don’t sweat it. I’m sure he’ll understand why you were in such a hurry. I’ve been made aware that you had a burning desire to rent “You, Me And Dupree”, and you just had to drive to Blockbuster to make sure they still had a copy for you to rent.
At least Bernice’s life was sacrificed for a piece of filmmaking genius, as opposed to some critically panned Owen Wilson flick. I mean, personally, I thought it was a bad movie, but my tiny squirrel brain might not have been able to comprehend all that complex humor. So who knows, right?
Well, Bernice was my favorite cousin, and it’s kind of hard to look at baby pictures of him now that he’s a smear on the side of the road. That stuff makes me squeamish, even. We squirrels don’t consider ourselves to be violent creatures. All we really do is collect nuts, scamper from branch to branch, and occasionally star in Ice Age movies. We’re really just here to entertain you.
So, maybe once in a while, you could stop texting in your car just long enough to avoid squashing my close relatives. I know, I know, Danielle said this and John’s dating that girl. Good stuff.
If you could keep your eyes on the road just long enough to not kill us, that would be great. I know it’s a lot to ask for. And if you’re feeling extra-merciful, try giving that brake pedal a few pumps and spare us a few seconds so that we can avoid becoming bloody pancakes
Peace out, man. Keep doing good work. You’re the best ever. And oh yeah… does this taste like rabies to you?

Popularity: 7% [?]

By Officer Dan
I spend long days patrolling the streets, enforcing speed limits and watching for dangerous activity. I work tirelessly to ensure the safety of this town and its people. I proudly enforce the necessary laws upon which this nation was built.
And I’m sick and tired of getting lip for enjoying a doughnut once in a while. I’ve always liked doughnuts, even before I was a police officer. I don’t enjoy them more than anybody else. Probably just the average amount, I’d guess. I have a balanced diet, I exercise regularly, and I take a multi-vitamin every morning.
So why, then, do people try making me feel guilty about eating a Krispy Kreme or two?
Just the other day, actually, I made a stop at the local Dunkin-Donuts. Now I usually don’t even go there, but my wife gave me a coupon for a free cup of coffee with the purchase of a doughnut. Upon entering the establishment, I was greeted with snickers and stifled giggling. A little boy approached me, pointed his finger at me, and said, “My mommy says people like you should stop coming here so much”. And after ordering a glazed doughnut and a bear claw, the young man behind the counter barely choked out, “Have…a nice day… officer,” before bursting in laughter.
Hey you, little boy with chocolate all over your face. Grow up. Do you see this, right here on my belt? It’s not a Super-Soaker. And your mother should tell you that it’s rude to point. And you, pizza-faced minimum wage worker. Yeah, I’m talking to you. I serve and protect. You work at a Dunkin-Donuts. Who should be laughing at whom? I bet you think that every construction worker eats sandwiches out of brown paper bags. You make me sick.
I mean, come on. The donut shops are the only decent places to go during night shifts. It’s cheap, and close to the police station. What am I supposed to do? The facts that I’m a cop and I like doughnuts are completely unrelated. I thought Americans moved past prejudice and bigotry hundreds of years ago. Obviously I was mistaken.
Oh wait, gotta go. I just saw a kid walking outside and I’m pretty sure he was wearing a Metallica shirt. He must have at least a few drugs on him.“

Popularity: 5% [?]

By Butch, the Bomb-Sniffing German Shepherd

Horray! I love coming to this place! There are never any bombs and always stuff to eat. I love eating! One time, I was— hold on. What am I doing here again? Oh, right. Bombs. Gotta find bombs. But I don’t smell any. Maybe if I pretend that I’m onto something I will still get a treat at the end. Oh boy, I sure hope I get a treat! I loves treats… wait. I smell something… Nope, Officer Patrick just farted again. He better not blame this one on me too.
I think we have something here. Yes we do! Down the hall! Better run!!! I WAS RIGHT! It’s an empty Gatorade bottle! Jackpot. I am such a good boy. Dang it, they wanted bombs. I forgot.
Well that was some hard-hitting police work. I better take a break and chase my own tail for a while. I… almost… got… ouch! Who bit me?! Okay. No time to figure that one out. I need to find some bombs. I think there is a half-eaten mozzarella stick on the other side of the school. I better run to get it like it is a bomb.
Got it! No, I will not spit it out! I found it! Get your own! Oh I see how it is. Well we’ll how you like it when I’m mad at you.
I forgive you! You’re my best friend. Let’s never fight again.
Is that a ticking noise I hear? I think it is. What am I supposed to do again? We trained for this. Ticking noise means… play dead? That doesn’t sound right. I got it! Ticking noise means bomb and bomb means treat. Run to the treat! Run to the treat! Run to the— drippy faucet. Ooo! Some gum! No, I will not spit it out.

Popularity: 11% [?]

By Buford Stetson
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS – A press release regarding the relationship between the amount of fan pages a Facebook user has and the amount of friends they have was recently revealed. No, not Facebook friends. Real friends. This groundbreaking study revealed something that few could foresee: the more pages a Facebook user is a fan of, the less friends they will have in real life.
While the study did not cite specific reasons for this relationship, this Flipside reporter was willing to dig deep into the lives of true aficionados to discover just why this is true. And the results were shocking. Apparently people don’t like their live feed to consist of meaningless information about a complete stranger. “John Greenberg has become a fan of ‘bubble wrap.’” Well thank the lord. I thought for a minute that John Greenberg wasn’t a fan of bubble wrap. And I thought for a minute that John Greenberg didn’t feel the need to confess this love on the internet. And I thought for a minute that I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, knowing that John Greenberg didn’t share my love for bubble wrap. But since John Greenberg is a fan of bubble wrap, I can breathe easy. This Flipside reporter would like to propose a new fan page: “I hate it when people become fans of everything on Facebook.” Although, becoming a fan of that page would be a bit hypocritical. Scratch that.
This Flipside reporter would like to propose a newer fan page: “I hate it when people become fans of everything of Facebook, yet recognize the paradox created by joining this group.”
Additionally, a cause between the lack of friends of those with 100+ fan pages can be traced to their incentive for becoming fans of so many things. While it could be contended that these people simply like a lot of things, or that they want to support as many causes as possible, let’s be honest. They become fans of so many things because they don’t have a life. So they waste their time on Facebook, trying to associate with the whimsical pleasures of fellow cyber teens. It’s a logical thought process, really. What better way to feel cool than to know that 10,000 others also love “The guy who screams CHOCOLATE! on Spongebob.” Thus this relationship between fan pages and friends really shouldn’t have been to shocking; people who waste their time on Facebook and annoy everyone around them usually aren’t the life of the party.
I, however, would like to propose a new correlation that is far more radical: The more Facebook friends someone has, the fewer friends they have in real life. I talked to Junior Kyle Bernstein about the issue, who has an impressive 1,894 Facebook friends. When I asked him what he was doing this weekend, Bernstein responded, “Probably going on Facebook…”

Popularity: 10% [?]

Al Gore: Whoever is watching us from above must really have it in for you. You probably picked the most rediculously stupid name for your little environmental situation. Global Warming? I don’t think so buddy. Mother nature is pissed. At you. Because this week sure as a cow’s behind has NOT been warm. It’s been freezing, and it’s not even October. So go take your Global Warming, put it in a blender, and press that darn “CHOP ICE” button. Or better yet, just go sit in the corner with the dunce hat until you feel you can behave, and change that darn name. You got us all scared to throw away a piece of paper. It’s just nature, and it’s inevitable. Call it, “Mother-Nature-Can’t-Make-Up-Her-Mind.” One week, it’s in the 80’s, the next, the 50’s. Please elaborate, Mr. Gore. Explain how that constitutes “warming.” Or, shut the yapper until you find a better name. Thanks.

Popularity: 5% [?]

By an antisocial and asexual, but conformist, senior

Oh my g-d, what am I going to do? Prom is only two months and I haven’t got the faintest idea who I am going to ask or how. So many problems, so few solutions. Plus, I am asocial and don’t like anyone but myself.

Nothing scares me more than my parents. They could take away my twitter. They could make me stop talking to myself. I cannot deal with the embarrassment of not going. I cannot deal with my parents reminiscing about their childhood. I cannot deal with people.

But I simply have to go. Everybody else does. I have no chance with a senior girl. I should try to snag one of those leftovers. Maybe a Junior or Sophomore. I think I lent that girl who sits in front of me my pencil once. We brushed hands! I felt a real bond there.

There is also that girl who often makes eye contact with me in the hallway. As long as I apologize for flicking her off and turning in that picture of her doing something inappropriate on Facebook to the deans, I think I might be on to something. Maybe I’ll ask one of those girls in my freshman gym class. That wouldn’t be awkward. Right? At least they know my great leadership abilities. And I have a bright future ahead of me because I am one of only 100 gym leaders, people able to sacrifice the possibility of actually having to move in PE.

How should I ask her? I’ll text her. No, that’s not original. I’m sure everybody does that. I’ll make a really long scavenger hunt. If I put enough effort into it, she will feel bad enough and have to go with me. I could also ask through Solitaire, the best game ever. Or I could surprise her in a bathroom stall; just like Moaning Myrtle, my idol.

Oh my g-d, now I am so excited for prom. Just me and her. What’s that? I would have to go in a group… with people?! Screw this.

Popularity: 6% [?]

A Teacher’s Perspective

“Did I miss anything in class yesterday?” asks a student.

“No. The entire world revolves around you, therefore, we did not do anything because you were not there,” the teacher desperately wants to say. In actuality she says, “You should check out somebody’s notes.”

Honestly, as a teacher these are the times I want to stop using the overhead to project my brilliant power point presentations and start using it as a weapon of blunt force, bashing that arrogant kid’s head into a pulp. What, is my job completely worthless? You miss one day and have the balls to ask, “Did I miss anything.” No, I shouldn’t get angry. It is not like you have been sitting in my class all year. You wouldn’t have any idea what occurs on a daily basis in this class. My bad.

“So there is nothing I have to make up?” asks the still smiling student.

“Nothing. We twiddled our thumbs yesterday and whined to the g-ds ‘oh where, oh where could little Johnny be? I hope he is all right. I miss his presence in class so dearly,’” admitted the teacher as she could no longer contain her sarcasm.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” remarks John the innocent. “Wait, did you?”

“No. Are you an idiot? Is there anybody up there,” the teacher stated as she playfully tapped Johnny’s near empty skull with her fist.

Of course, I have never done that. One of these days, though, when my tenure is secure and I am about to retire, I’m going to let one of those kids have it. For now, I’ll just keep finding ways to lower the grades of all the Johnny’s in the world.

Popularity: 5% [?]

You may recognize me as Alabama State’s galloping star forward. Though we lost in the play in game, and my upset special Morehead State (founded by DHS alumna Aaron) lost to Louisville by twenty billion, it was soooo obvious Cleveland St. If you didn’t see that coming, then you should just go kick a horse. Or a man named Sims.

Hail to the chief. Not every school can sting like the ASU Hornets, but the S. F. Austin Lumberjacks really know how to chop wood. Too bad they don’t know how to play basketball. No matter, my champion pick remains the same: watch for George Mason to sneak into the tournament and win it all.

Popularity: 4% [?]