Taylor leaned languidly on his bent arm, resting his tired head on his hand. In his left, he twiddled and rolled his pencil across his fingers deftly like some kind of magician.
Come one, come all! marvel at the Terrific Taylor as he wondrously wobbles his precarious pencil twixt his dexterous digits!
Taylor was drifting again. His mind was swimming in and out of the moment as his eyes drooped ever more heavily. He blinked once, twice, attempting to struggle against the inevitable. He began to fall into a more purposeful breathing pattern, and soon, the hand that flitted the pencil began to drop, and the Ticonderoga hit the floor, eraser first, making a dull plip sound.
Taylor was in is own mind. The dull drone of the lecture on Berlin Wall and its ultimate collapse continued unabated, but it sounded as though it it were being taught three classrooms away by a teacher created by Charles Schultz. Taylor's head slid down on his hand and he subconsciously knew that in mere moments, it would make little difference how 'out of it' he was...
He was right.
The lights flicked off and the steady rattle-hum of the movie projector whined to life behind him. As old and worthless as these archaic forms of classroom information were, they were darn good for at least a half hour power nap. And that's just where Taylor was headed.
In the rapidly stretching distance, Taylor heard the warbling diatribe of the host of the film as it trailed off further and further away...
And sprang back into his mind like the return of a boomerang. Taylor was standing among his classroom cadets in the great meeting hall of the Second Infantry, Walking Dead Extermination Division. He loved how the circular patch over his right shoulder showed a skull emblazoned with the letters: WDED, with the DED written in dripping red letters. It was a cheesy acronym, but effective.
The commander stood tall among the ten and eleven-year old students, but he treated each and every one as an equal. For Taylor and his division had proven themselves worthy time and again by infiltrating the enemy lines and sending the zombies back to their former deaths. Each of the twenty-five children had a unique talent that was used with great skill in battle. Some created spit-wads embedded with push pins. Some made rubber band crossbows that launched flaming erasers. Others, like Taylor, used their mastery of deadly sharpened pencils to fight off the hordes. They were all trained to the point of perfection, and the commander knew it, and trusted them.
"Cadets!" The Commander continued, "Today is a big day for us! For today is the day we shatter the walls that separate us from the zombies, break into their stronghold, and acquire the thing that brought these monsters to life in the first place!"
Cheers rang up from the twenty-five little soldiers as they thrust their fists in the air triumphantly. Taylor was especially excited because among them, he was the only one who had ever actually seen the instrument that was directly responsible for the zombie plague on earth: The dreaded Amulet.
-- To Be Continued --
Come one, come all! marvel at the Terrific Taylor as he wondrously wobbles his precarious pencil twixt his dexterous digits!
Taylor was drifting again. His mind was swimming in and out of the moment as his eyes drooped ever more heavily. He blinked once, twice, attempting to struggle against the inevitable. He began to fall into a more purposeful breathing pattern, and soon, the hand that flitted the pencil began to drop, and the Ticonderoga hit the floor, eraser first, making a dull plip sound.
Taylor was in is own mind. The dull drone of the lecture on Berlin Wall and its ultimate collapse continued unabated, but it sounded as though it it were being taught three classrooms away by a teacher created by Charles Schultz. Taylor's head slid down on his hand and he subconsciously knew that in mere moments, it would make little difference how 'out of it' he was...
He was right.
The lights flicked off and the steady rattle-hum of the movie projector whined to life behind him. As old and worthless as these archaic forms of classroom information were, they were darn good for at least a half hour power nap. And that's just where Taylor was headed.
In the rapidly stretching distance, Taylor heard the warbling diatribe of the host of the film as it trailed off further and further away...
And sprang back into his mind like the return of a boomerang. Taylor was standing among his classroom cadets in the great meeting hall of the Second Infantry, Walking Dead Extermination Division. He loved how the circular patch over his right shoulder showed a skull emblazoned with the letters: WDED, with the DED written in dripping red letters. It was a cheesy acronym, but effective.
The commander stood tall among the ten and eleven-year old students, but he treated each and every one as an equal. For Taylor and his division had proven themselves worthy time and again by infiltrating the enemy lines and sending the zombies back to their former deaths. Each of the twenty-five children had a unique talent that was used with great skill in battle. Some created spit-wads embedded with push pins. Some made rubber band crossbows that launched flaming erasers. Others, like Taylor, used their mastery of deadly sharpened pencils to fight off the hordes. They were all trained to the point of perfection, and the commander knew it, and trusted them.
"Cadets!" The Commander continued, "Today is a big day for us! For today is the day we shatter the walls that separate us from the zombies, break into their stronghold, and acquire the thing that brought these monsters to life in the first place!"
Cheers rang up from the twenty-five little soldiers as they thrust their fists in the air triumphantly. Taylor was especially excited because among them, he was the only one who had ever actually seen the instrument that was directly responsible for the zombie plague on earth: The dreaded Amulet.
-- To Be Continued --
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