Late in the afternoon.
Just under the ceiling were small rectangles that accommodated the sun into the gym building 4a. These beams of soft golden light hover slowly into the pool leaving an amber fossil of Lomoni’s swanlike physique. When she emerged from the water it was a scene to behold. It was like seeing the loch ness - who else would know what grace you have witnessed but yourself alone and it would remain that way until somebody invents a machine that records appreciation and renders it for onscreen-viewing.
And she dove again. The frames from the diving board to the water were the last things you would look at before you die. There is no white light or flashback to your childhood, no just this. It happened very fast but I saw every bit of her beauty before she plunged down and my life went away.
Every frame.
Thousands of it.
And every single one of it is a masterpiece.
The shades of yellow and gold on the surface of her creamy white skin.
Her goggles, her cap, her blue bathing suit. Navy Blue with sky blue linings.
You can’t blame anyone when you’re dying. You lose all your pride. All your anger, resolution, your passions, your virtues, even your fears. There is only the feeling of awe. You will only see what’s in front of you and you will appreciate it. You will love it and cherish it for it is the last thing you will ever see. Life is good. Life is compassionate. It will give you time to cherish your final moment. So you die in peace. You will have your final viewing of beauty in slow motion, frame by frame, in the most polished fps possible.
Lomoni she’s the Valkyrie. She makes it sure you cross the bridge with your mind at ease. Look at her go. Her mouth was closed so the water won’t come in when she hits the pool. It’s obvious that she had taken-in enough air to last the few seconds of submersion. Were you the same? Did you close your mouth when you needed to? Or was it closed all the time? Did you take enough to last your stay?
This is exhibit one to ten thousand four hundred and fifty seven. This sequence tells a story. Not as a sequence but as individual frames. The living, no, the audience both living and dead will view the sequence but not you. Well, not until your Next Entry Point.
Exhibit one: Lomoni’s feet are on the diving board and her arms are on her side bent and starting to gather force. At this point you realize that you have more time than you thought you wanted and needed in the middle of your life. At this point as everything is so slow you realize that after all the bitching about having not enough time there is a surprise waiting for you a few moments before your last breath. The sweetest thing in the world: Unlimited time. Go ahead, take your time. It’s sweet and frozen. Look at frame one for as long as you desire. And there are a thousand more frames to look at. Study each minor detail. Study each transition and don’t be hasty on the thoughts that occur on the way. Let your mind sink deeper into these pictures. Nobody’s queuing. Just make sure you’ve looked at each of them enough because there’s no going back. The last frames are deleted from the timeline but worry not because they will remain in your memory. In fact all the thoughts you’ve gathered and the wisdoms you’ve unlocked through this will last forever. There is no forgetting for thoughts before death. So be sharp and remember the killing rule, take your time.
If you were doubtful of reality’s physics now is the time to know the truth.
If you thought emotions change every beat of the heart, be your own guest and figure it out.
Now.
If you think the human body isn’t perfect go ahead and see for yourself.
If you think frame 4 comes before 3 in a weird cycle as 9 before 7, you can try and bring light to this but you will have to do it without going back on past frames. You are a smart one after all so it is already assumed that you have this figured out before frame 10. Or exhibit 10 as you insist these frames be called. Lomoni is off the board in frame 102. You discover that the axes can be moved, rotated, in real-time. Isn’t death awesome? Talk about complete manipulation of real scenes. Real dimensions, real everything. And you thought reality was very limited. You thought only God could do this. What a surprise. Well you might think the higher power has allowed you this great pleasure before you return to were the souls eternally rest. By Exhibit 858 you will see if you thought right.
But only if you take your time.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunther Paul
"Sunther Paul"Sunther Paul was one of the average boys. He is at least recognizeable but nobody remembered his name except for the other average boys. Where he studied nobody really remembered the average boys except themselves. And it didn't matter because the average boys did not bother to remember each other anyway. You see, average boys just went home after school. Unlike boys with character who either stick around or go to a place that has more character than home.
His teacher thought Sunther Paul was strange. He didn't know about others but to him Sunther Paul was actually very strange. His name was strange and although he's dressed like an average person somehow there's always something about him overall that is rather outworldly. He gels his hair to make it spiky on the front and Mr. Snow assumed that Sunther does this to somehow fit in but he'd very much doubted this theory. And his thin mustache is the weirdest thing he's ever seen. Professor Snow was teaching sculpture that time and that's where he met Sunther Paul. Being a man of the arts and crafts he had been exposed to a lot of diversity and he is always credible if he thought something was weird. At least where he is, he has gained enough credibility to fill a man-sized terracota pot. He believed that something is weird if it occured in its advanced state without undergoing the basics. If you painted a cubism style naked girl but you cannot paint a life-like girl then that's when he knows you are weird. To be able to paint a cubism girl you must paint a realistic girl first and distort it in a piece of paper before painting the whole thing again. He believes that everything must undergo the "correct" process. Basically, man nust crawl before he could walk.
Sunther Paul.
Sunther Paul was as obedient as obedient as the word obedient gets. That's how obedient he was. Knowing this, he could not have been weird at all considering what Mr. Snow's standard for weirdness was. When Sunther Paul was asked to make a concept for a styrofoam action figure he did as he was told while keenly putting into account all the rules for measure, detail, and aesthethic limitation. Styrofoam Action Figure was a very interesting project for everyone in class. It was more fun than work. The other average guy made Mickey Mouse, the other other average guy made a deer and the other other other average guy made an alien with big black hole eyes and painted it silver and cream. The students of more noticeable character made more noticeable action figures like Cloud from Final Fantasy, a five foot tall Tallgeese from Gundam Wing, Blade, Sonic the Hedgehog and one person even sculpted all the classes in Ragnarok which is way more than what was required and he surely got credit for doing such a fine work. But of course this is more like fun rather than work. Sunther Paul made a clean Megaman figure. And Mr. Snow thought that was the weirdest among all the submisions in his office. Much weirder than the Edward Scissorhands, The Sandman and the Freddy Kruger he had recieved. He put it behind Wolverine so no one else might notice it. He was going to take it home later. Mr. Snow felt anxious as he looked at Wolverine. You can still see the Megaman behind so he put on more action figures to hide it. He was pleased to see that it couldn't be noticed anymore and he smiled and swallowed a green pellet. He glanced at his new work in progress: a large tribesman's head made of stone. He thought about how his students admired his works so much that they always stop by his office during their breaks. He remembered when he showed them his Jesus Statue which stood twenty feet tall all done by him. "It was an honor to make something for the good of the church." He remembers saying those words to the young. Mr. Snow was not vain at all. He just loved it when something is apprecicated especially if that something is accomplished with great effort and inspiration. In fact, he himself does not fail in complementing his students if they have done something decent. When his students express their love for his work he gets really excited that he pats you on the back as he utters his famous set of words, "It's not something you cannot do, master." That's his way of building them up, inspiring them, uplifting their spirit, carressing the softer spot of their souls, that g-spot on their egos which when rubbed puts a big hole of an oh on the lips behind their innocent smiling masks. Mr. Snow swallows a red pellet this time and starts touching the stone head. He touches it tenderly and he feels it's masterfully textured surface rub across his small but manly hands. He closes his eyes and his tongue goes wild lolling inwards and outwards. His back was arched and stiff and he was on the edge of his seat. The feeling was so intense that he almost let out a howl but he snapped out of trance and remembered it was almost one in the afternoon and someone might come over. Realizing this he checked the megaman's position again. Perfect. He stood up and put a checkered blanket over the stone head. On his way to the door he looked at his office. Cement busts of famous people, clay figurines, picture frames and birds made of plaster, steel men, women and animals, abstract wax creatures, assorted masks, and styrofoam cartoon characters. All of which are fruits of artistic dedication. He frowned. Something was wrong. All of the styrofoam cartoon characters are gathered up on one side and they look very suspicious. He locked the door and swallowed another green pellet. No, two green pellets. He was frantically rearranging eveything. There has to be a right combination to make everything look normal. He stacked the picture frames on front of megaman but it even looked more like it was hiding something. He put the Tallgeese on front of a table but he thought it aroused even greater suspicion. He considered hiding it in the stock area where there are only paint, newspapers, adhesives and cement but looking at how clean it is he could not risk the possibility of even a little speck ruining it's rich blue coating. He swallowed a yellow pellet. It all came to him like a floating skull cap. "Distraction."
Sunther Paul knew this boy, Mills. Mills was as skinny as skinny as the word skinny goes. But nobody calls him Skinny Mills because there is already a skinny Pat. Skinny Pat is a person of character so he got dibs on the nickname. Mills was half average. He doesn't go home after school but he was too boring to be one of the noticeable boys. He just walks around in his free time if not having a drink alone in the nearby pub. Everytime he sees Sunther he invites him for a drink but Sunther doesn't drink. He drank before but he doesn't drink now. It was fifteen minutes past one and Sunther was on his way to Mr. Snow's office to check if he's recieved his work. He came across Mills who was slouched on a corner pretending to read. Reciepts. Sunther Paul tried to ignore him but Mills called him. "Which character did you make for Snow's class?" Sunther spoke. His smile was corteus. Mills glanced at Sunther's mustache where droplets of milk from lunch had gathered and remained. They engaged in pitiful smalltalk then walked ahead seperately. Mills surreptitously slipped the receipt on the back of Sunther's collar. He got kicks from slipping things into people's openings.
Mr. Snow heard a knock on the door. It was Debbie. He let her in. Debbie was amazed to see a beautiful diorama of plastic ballerinas at the far corner of the room. She though that was not anything she'd seen before. Seeing that the professor's door is now open, more students went in. Everyone was all over the ballerinas. Smiles and giggles and some patronizing glares from the alienated few. "Genius," thought mr. Snow. Sunther Paul came in. He asked if Mr. Snow had recieved and graded his work and if he did he wants it back. The professor told him that he hasn't graded it yet but it was a fine work indeed and he can come back for it next week. But Sunther really liked that work. In fact, it was his best work. He felt that his teacher was conning him of his best work so he shifted up his gear. Well, in his mind he tried. He wanted to fool Mr. Snow into believing that he had a brother on a wheelchair who will not be walking anymore in this lifetime and the only thing the poor kid fancied is his older brother's work. He wanted to con his teacher into believing that this brother was retarded and the only thing that makes him happy and calm is his older brother's artwork. But Sunther Paul just smiled a corteous smile and said goodbye. "What a weird kid,"Mr. Snow thought. He went back to his fans and discussed the theory of elongated spines.
Sunther was waiting for a bus. It's hard to get a bus going his way in that place and three buses has already passed by but he didn't get in. He was haunted. He thought the pub might help him clear his head. But that wouldn't be him. Sunther Paul is not the type to be found in pubs. Yet he found himself sitting on a monoblock in front of four beers. In front him was Mills who was pretending to read. Sunther Paul's class cards. So Sunther Paul tried to start a conversation about units. It's a favourite topic between average boys. He asked Mills about how much units does he have left before he graduates and Mills answered and asked Sunther Paul the same question. One may find these boys stuck-up and flat faced but inside them, they are really full of enthusiasm. And besides, units are a big deal. It determines the soonness of their liberation. For a lot of the average boys school is like a prison. They talked about units for the first hour of their session and consumed two bottles of beer. They did not have seperate glasses. These boys ask for a pitcher and one is assigned to call shots. Mills was calling shots. Sunther Paul excused himself and went to the comfort room. He looked at the mirror and noticed how young he was. He was 20 years old. The future is bright and he will make even better sculptures. He wondered and wondered. A styrofoam Teepee Takamiya, a plastic Yusuke Urameshi, no, a resin Kurapica with iron guns. When he went back to the table Mills was pretending to read again. Nutrition Facts. Sunther Paul's mood was different. He asked Mills if he believed that great people start small. Mills agreed and went back to pretending to read. Ingridients. Sunther Paul was silent until Mills started rambling about what he thought of national art. He said that their teachers were philistines especially the dean Mrs. Monita. That they she didn't appreciate anything that didn't have rice fields or breastfeeding. That the advancement of art is dead in that country and he's going to burn the school. When Sunther Paul drank his last shot he and Mills went to wait for a bus. Mills's bus arrived first. Sunther Paul thought Mills was a great guy. He had a vision of Mills throwing frisbees.
Mr. Snow checked the halls. It was clear. He had Megaman in his knapsack. He went past the Dean's office through a narrow hall that leads to the AVR. There are two routes towards the exit. One is through the Art Department which most of the students use and the other one, which he's going for, is through the AVR which is usually barren after five, except when students are waiting to get in or just got out of a Film Showing. He sneaked past a janitor who was hauling a mop and a pail from the stairs and he made his descent as quick and nimble as a cat. As his foot took off the last step he hit someone as he wasn't looking. It was dean Monita. The dean asked him what was wrong. Why did he look so pale. Sweaty. He told the dean that he was not nervous and he wasn't hiding anything. Of course, the dean grew suspicious so she offered to accompany him to his car. No matter how hard Mr. Snow tried to send her away she was devilishly insistent. They were approaching the exit and he saw the guard who was animatedly preparing to greet them. Mr. Snow felt a big sack of acid exploding in his stomach. There was a mirror on the side of the doors and the dean was checking something on her teeth. What beautiful teeth she had, thought mr. snow, who was surprised to see such brilliance trapped in the mouth of a withering old bark. The guard stood straight, stern as a chin full of shaving cream. Mr. Snow would want to gouge the guard's eyes out and he was actually getting ready to do so. As they passed, the guard greeted them and the dean greeted back. As they are about to exit the building the guard said "Halt!" loudly but not that loud. Mr. Snow felt an ovary tearing between his kidnies. The dean asked what was the matter but the guard smiled and said he coudn't let them go without an umbrella because its about to rain. The dean thanked him and stood about. Mr. Snow who was heavily annoyed. He never really liked that guard. "He's polite but his act is stupid and childish and oh! would I want to gouge his eyes out," thought the angry professor.
"If that's the case then you may want to escort Mr. Snow to the car, he isn't feeling exactly well," said the dean to the guard who looked "more than happy" to assist him. The guard smelt like some instant noodle meal he had to eat when he got stuck in a poor friend's place out of flood. He felt humble so he patronized the guard's inane pratling. They were almost at the car when they noticed a handful of pedestrians gathered up under a light post. The guard invited Mr. Snow to check it out but mr. Snow told him he was too nauseus so he really has to go home. He told the guard that he could still drive and he appreciates his concern but he really has to leave NOW. So he started the engine. Something was smelling dank. He looked behind him and he saw a naked boy. The boy took off his skin and inside revealed the same naked boy as the former. But Mr. Snow doesn't believe in ghosts. He left the school, the guard and the crowd under the light post. He drove off with the backseat filling with skins of naked boys.
His teacher thought Sunther Paul was strange. He didn't know about others but to him Sunther Paul was actually very strange. His name was strange and although he's dressed like an average person somehow there's always something about him overall that is rather outworldly. He gels his hair to make it spiky on the front and Mr. Snow assumed that Sunther does this to somehow fit in but he'd very much doubted this theory. And his thin mustache is the weirdest thing he's ever seen. Professor Snow was teaching sculpture that time and that's where he met Sunther Paul. Being a man of the arts and crafts he had been exposed to a lot of diversity and he is always credible if he thought something was weird. At least where he is, he has gained enough credibility to fill a man-sized terracota pot. He believed that something is weird if it occured in its advanced state without undergoing the basics. If you painted a cubism style naked girl but you cannot paint a life-like girl then that's when he knows you are weird. To be able to paint a cubism girl you must paint a realistic girl first and distort it in a piece of paper before painting the whole thing again. He believes that everything must undergo the "correct" process. Basically, man nust crawl before he could walk.
Sunther Paul.
Sunther Paul was as obedient as obedient as the word obedient gets. That's how obedient he was. Knowing this, he could not have been weird at all considering what Mr. Snow's standard for weirdness was. When Sunther Paul was asked to make a concept for a styrofoam action figure he did as he was told while keenly putting into account all the rules for measure, detail, and aesthethic limitation. Styrofoam Action Figure was a very interesting project for everyone in class. It was more fun than work. The other average guy made Mickey Mouse, the other other average guy made a deer and the other other other average guy made an alien with big black hole eyes and painted it silver and cream. The students of more noticeable character made more noticeable action figures like Cloud from Final Fantasy, a five foot tall Tallgeese from Gundam Wing, Blade, Sonic the Hedgehog and one person even sculpted all the classes in Ragnarok which is way more than what was required and he surely got credit for doing such a fine work. But of course this is more like fun rather than work. Sunther Paul made a clean Megaman figure. And Mr. Snow thought that was the weirdest among all the submisions in his office. Much weirder than the Edward Scissorhands, The Sandman and the Freddy Kruger he had recieved. He put it behind Wolverine so no one else might notice it. He was going to take it home later. Mr. Snow felt anxious as he looked at Wolverine. You can still see the Megaman behind so he put on more action figures to hide it. He was pleased to see that it couldn't be noticed anymore and he smiled and swallowed a green pellet. He glanced at his new work in progress: a large tribesman's head made of stone. He thought about how his students admired his works so much that they always stop by his office during their breaks. He remembered when he showed them his Jesus Statue which stood twenty feet tall all done by him. "It was an honor to make something for the good of the church." He remembers saying those words to the young. Mr. Snow was not vain at all. He just loved it when something is apprecicated especially if that something is accomplished with great effort and inspiration. In fact, he himself does not fail in complementing his students if they have done something decent. When his students express their love for his work he gets really excited that he pats you on the back as he utters his famous set of words, "It's not something you cannot do, master." That's his way of building them up, inspiring them, uplifting their spirit, carressing the softer spot of their souls, that g-spot on their egos which when rubbed puts a big hole of an oh on the lips behind their innocent smiling masks. Mr. Snow swallows a red pellet this time and starts touching the stone head. He touches it tenderly and he feels it's masterfully textured surface rub across his small but manly hands. He closes his eyes and his tongue goes wild lolling inwards and outwards. His back was arched and stiff and he was on the edge of his seat. The feeling was so intense that he almost let out a howl but he snapped out of trance and remembered it was almost one in the afternoon and someone might come over. Realizing this he checked the megaman's position again. Perfect. He stood up and put a checkered blanket over the stone head. On his way to the door he looked at his office. Cement busts of famous people, clay figurines, picture frames and birds made of plaster, steel men, women and animals, abstract wax creatures, assorted masks, and styrofoam cartoon characters. All of which are fruits of artistic dedication. He frowned. Something was wrong. All of the styrofoam cartoon characters are gathered up on one side and they look very suspicious. He locked the door and swallowed another green pellet. No, two green pellets. He was frantically rearranging eveything. There has to be a right combination to make everything look normal. He stacked the picture frames on front of megaman but it even looked more like it was hiding something. He put the Tallgeese on front of a table but he thought it aroused even greater suspicion. He considered hiding it in the stock area where there are only paint, newspapers, adhesives and cement but looking at how clean it is he could not risk the possibility of even a little speck ruining it's rich blue coating. He swallowed a yellow pellet. It all came to him like a floating skull cap. "Distraction."
Sunther Paul knew this boy, Mills. Mills was as skinny as skinny as the word skinny goes. But nobody calls him Skinny Mills because there is already a skinny Pat. Skinny Pat is a person of character so he got dibs on the nickname. Mills was half average. He doesn't go home after school but he was too boring to be one of the noticeable boys. He just walks around in his free time if not having a drink alone in the nearby pub. Everytime he sees Sunther he invites him for a drink but Sunther doesn't drink. He drank before but he doesn't drink now. It was fifteen minutes past one and Sunther was on his way to Mr. Snow's office to check if he's recieved his work. He came across Mills who was slouched on a corner pretending to read. Reciepts. Sunther Paul tried to ignore him but Mills called him. "Which character did you make for Snow's class?" Sunther spoke. His smile was corteus. Mills glanced at Sunther's mustache where droplets of milk from lunch had gathered and remained. They engaged in pitiful smalltalk then walked ahead seperately. Mills surreptitously slipped the receipt on the back of Sunther's collar. He got kicks from slipping things into people's openings.
Mr. Snow heard a knock on the door. It was Debbie. He let her in. Debbie was amazed to see a beautiful diorama of plastic ballerinas at the far corner of the room. She though that was not anything she'd seen before. Seeing that the professor's door is now open, more students went in. Everyone was all over the ballerinas. Smiles and giggles and some patronizing glares from the alienated few. "Genius," thought mr. Snow. Sunther Paul came in. He asked if Mr. Snow had recieved and graded his work and if he did he wants it back. The professor told him that he hasn't graded it yet but it was a fine work indeed and he can come back for it next week. But Sunther really liked that work. In fact, it was his best work. He felt that his teacher was conning him of his best work so he shifted up his gear. Well, in his mind he tried. He wanted to fool Mr. Snow into believing that he had a brother on a wheelchair who will not be walking anymore in this lifetime and the only thing the poor kid fancied is his older brother's work. He wanted to con his teacher into believing that this brother was retarded and the only thing that makes him happy and calm is his older brother's artwork. But Sunther Paul just smiled a corteous smile and said goodbye. "What a weird kid,"Mr. Snow thought. He went back to his fans and discussed the theory of elongated spines.
Sunther was waiting for a bus. It's hard to get a bus going his way in that place and three buses has already passed by but he didn't get in. He was haunted. He thought the pub might help him clear his head. But that wouldn't be him. Sunther Paul is not the type to be found in pubs. Yet he found himself sitting on a monoblock in front of four beers. In front him was Mills who was pretending to read. Sunther Paul's class cards. So Sunther Paul tried to start a conversation about units. It's a favourite topic between average boys. He asked Mills about how much units does he have left before he graduates and Mills answered and asked Sunther Paul the same question. One may find these boys stuck-up and flat faced but inside them, they are really full of enthusiasm. And besides, units are a big deal. It determines the soonness of their liberation. For a lot of the average boys school is like a prison. They talked about units for the first hour of their session and consumed two bottles of beer. They did not have seperate glasses. These boys ask for a pitcher and one is assigned to call shots. Mills was calling shots. Sunther Paul excused himself and went to the comfort room. He looked at the mirror and noticed how young he was. He was 20 years old. The future is bright and he will make even better sculptures. He wondered and wondered. A styrofoam Teepee Takamiya, a plastic Yusuke Urameshi, no, a resin Kurapica with iron guns. When he went back to the table Mills was pretending to read again. Nutrition Facts. Sunther Paul's mood was different. He asked Mills if he believed that great people start small. Mills agreed and went back to pretending to read. Ingridients. Sunther Paul was silent until Mills started rambling about what he thought of national art. He said that their teachers were philistines especially the dean Mrs. Monita. That they she didn't appreciate anything that didn't have rice fields or breastfeeding. That the advancement of art is dead in that country and he's going to burn the school. When Sunther Paul drank his last shot he and Mills went to wait for a bus. Mills's bus arrived first. Sunther Paul thought Mills was a great guy. He had a vision of Mills throwing frisbees.
Mr. Snow checked the halls. It was clear. He had Megaman in his knapsack. He went past the Dean's office through a narrow hall that leads to the AVR. There are two routes towards the exit. One is through the Art Department which most of the students use and the other one, which he's going for, is through the AVR which is usually barren after five, except when students are waiting to get in or just got out of a Film Showing. He sneaked past a janitor who was hauling a mop and a pail from the stairs and he made his descent as quick and nimble as a cat. As his foot took off the last step he hit someone as he wasn't looking. It was dean Monita. The dean asked him what was wrong. Why did he look so pale. Sweaty. He told the dean that he was not nervous and he wasn't hiding anything. Of course, the dean grew suspicious so she offered to accompany him to his car. No matter how hard Mr. Snow tried to send her away she was devilishly insistent. They were approaching the exit and he saw the guard who was animatedly preparing to greet them. Mr. Snow felt a big sack of acid exploding in his stomach. There was a mirror on the side of the doors and the dean was checking something on her teeth. What beautiful teeth she had, thought mr. snow, who was surprised to see such brilliance trapped in the mouth of a withering old bark. The guard stood straight, stern as a chin full of shaving cream. Mr. Snow would want to gouge the guard's eyes out and he was actually getting ready to do so. As they passed, the guard greeted them and the dean greeted back. As they are about to exit the building the guard said "Halt!" loudly but not that loud. Mr. Snow felt an ovary tearing between his kidnies. The dean asked what was the matter but the guard smiled and said he coudn't let them go without an umbrella because its about to rain. The dean thanked him and stood about. Mr. Snow who was heavily annoyed. He never really liked that guard. "He's polite but his act is stupid and childish and oh! would I want to gouge his eyes out," thought the angry professor.
"If that's the case then you may want to escort Mr. Snow to the car, he isn't feeling exactly well," said the dean to the guard who looked "more than happy" to assist him. The guard smelt like some instant noodle meal he had to eat when he got stuck in a poor friend's place out of flood. He felt humble so he patronized the guard's inane pratling. They were almost at the car when they noticed a handful of pedestrians gathered up under a light post. The guard invited Mr. Snow to check it out but mr. Snow told him he was too nauseus so he really has to go home. He told the guard that he could still drive and he appreciates his concern but he really has to leave NOW. So he started the engine. Something was smelling dank. He looked behind him and he saw a naked boy. The boy took off his skin and inside revealed the same naked boy as the former. But Mr. Snow doesn't believe in ghosts. He left the school, the guard and the crowd under the light post. He drove off with the backseat filling with skins of naked boys.
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