The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Apploges, I also could not find my glasses.

So I was living in this weeeird Judeo-Purto Rican barrio wih my foster dad and Benton (N and my dog). And I was in high school, Jesus! Had to walk past a chop shop and three huge German shepherds to get to the bus stop. Benton followed me there, but this was inconvenient, as he wanted to PLAY PLAY PLAY with the huge German shepherds guarding the chop shop.

The high school was Grand Central Station -- really. Commuters and all. N was my illi cit high school girlfriend (hi, honey! You looked hot in that letter jacket! I think it was for football!) from the super-waspy side of town. Shades of West Side Story! Anyway, my friends were all planning to play a prank on the school, and I knew it was a bad idea, so I hid in the library instead of going down with them, and so wasn't suspended indefinitely when they released about a thousand cornflower-blue balloons that immediately turned into pigeons and broke glass and caused havoc and did what pigeons do, ALL OVER GRAND CENTRAL. N and I hid out in the bathrooms, which were covered in bagel crumbs from all the pigeons, to avoid questioning by the police.

And then my foster dad was gored by a giant bull -- no really a giant, like an aurochs only fifteen feet tall and black -- while we were walking to shul, and my mercenary aunt immediately == like in seconds -- took over our little walkup hovel, and I had made vegetarian pelau with yams and adobo for Shabbes and I didn't get to eat ANY of it.

Aaaand that's where I woke up. SO WEIRD.