Today I was walking back to my room after going to the Student Health Center to set up my ear appointment for tomorrow, when a young lady informed me that my shirt was dirty. When she discovered that I was covered in blood I figured I should explain.
Earlier, when I was walking into the S.H.C., I heard a faint moan coming from one of the hospital rooms. Feeling remorse for my fellow suffering man I decided to go in and comfort the poor boy. I said, "Hello," then introduced myself, then noticed he was unable to speak well. I read his chart and it said that he was severly beaten by another student. Being a kind hearted hit-man I decided to offer this guy a free hit. I asked who beat him up and he was able to scratch onto a piece of paper, "Chris the Killa," and I knew full well that this was my boy Chris Quinn. I asked why Chris beat him and he told it was because he thought Chris was a jerk; so I then asked if he still felt this way and he replied firmly with a yes. His food was on a metal tray next to his bed, so I threw the Peanut Butter Pizza off and made an imprint of his face on the Titanium tray. Blood sprayed the room and I stared into his childish eyes just before he passed out and he wispered, "Et tu, Fat Louie?" He just laid there motionless and I was afraid I had killed him. I felt for a pulse and found one, now I could finish the way I like. I erased his chart and wrote down that he was in a coma and that he was going to die so that all his major organs were to be taken out and donated to those who need them. Sucks to be the guy going in for unnecessary surgery.
Your partner in crime,
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