The Ring of Time
You start to think you might need some mental bookmarks as to what kind of person you'll be in time (hoping that you never have to start all over again, but realizing some day your life may suck and you might have to rewind time), but shake off the idea for now.
"Besides, I'm Zhuge Liang!" you think to yourself. "The Sleeping Dragon, advisor to the great Liu Bei, the one and only..." Your thoughts are interupted by a tug at your sleeve.
"Thanks, um, Yugi?" a smallish-looking young boy says.
"It's Zhuge," you calmly remind him. "And thanks for what?"
"For getting that guy Darren, um, Zhuge. He's never been too physical, but he's been verbally abusing me and a couple buddies since middle school. It was cool what you did." He looks up at you with half-awe, half fear, in anticipation of what you might say and then pushes his rather bulky looking coke-bottle thick glasses further up his nose.
"Oh, well then, you're welcome. I can't abide disparaging comments, no matter WHO they come from," you say, attempting as regal a posturing as you can.
"Okay, hyuh hyuh, bye then!" the boy says, with a nerdy laugh, before quickening his pace to get to his next class.
"Not the kind of groupies I was hoping for," you muse. "But that can be rectified later."
You head into your English classroom, which was apparently as far from your homeroom as was physically possible, and notice that the small exchange with that boy has set you back a bit in seat selection. The only three remaining desks are one in the middle of what appears to be a cluster of hot chicks, one in front of a couple jocks near the back of the room, and one (oh, geez) right behind Darren. What will you do?
"Besides, I'm Zhuge Liang!" you think to yourself. "The Sleeping Dragon, advisor to the great Liu Bei, the one and only..." Your thoughts are interupted by a tug at your sleeve.
"Thanks, um, Yugi?" a smallish-looking young boy says.
"It's Zhuge," you calmly remind him. "And thanks for what?"
"For getting that guy Darren, um, Zhuge. He's never been too physical, but he's been verbally abusing me and a couple buddies since middle school. It was cool what you did." He looks up at you with half-awe, half fear, in anticipation of what you might say and then pushes his rather bulky looking coke-bottle thick glasses further up his nose.
"Oh, well then, you're welcome. I can't abide disparaging comments, no matter WHO they come from," you say, attempting as regal a posturing as you can.
"Okay, hyuh hyuh, bye then!" the boy says, with a nerdy laugh, before quickening his pace to get to his next class.
"Not the kind of groupies I was hoping for," you muse. "But that can be rectified later."
You head into your English classroom, which was apparently as far from your homeroom as was physically possible, and notice that the small exchange with that boy has set you back a bit in seat selection. The only three remaining desks are one in the middle of what appears to be a cluster of hot chicks, one in front of a couple jocks near the back of the room, and one (oh, geez) right behind Darren. What will you do?