A Purpley Prosey Problem

The bell sounded making a resounding ring. I sprang up from my shiny oak-colored desk and barged out of the classroom with reckless abandon.

I made my way down the cramped, overcrowded hallway inching closer to the exit, like a shining beacon on a distant shore. At the exit I bumped shoulders with a classmate. The boy’s face turned varsity red, and soon his whole body would follow suit. The boy scrunched his forhead arching his eyebrows.

His portly body is obviously filled with rage. He smacked all the books out of my hands causing a whirlwind of old textbooks and shorthand notes. I kept my cool as if in a freezer and collected my scattered belongings from off the speckled marble floor. I trotted away, but then my new enemy crossed the line.

“Next time watch where you walk NIGGER!”

Everything from then on seemed to slow down. People gathered around us, and in a fit of white rage I attacked him.

Then before you know it I’m breathing heavily in the back of a police vehicle bloody and tattered.

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