"this'll hurt you a helluva lot more than it'll hurt me..."

11:37. Boredom. It seeps in slowly and silently, like an early morning fog. Thick and damp, you don't even see it approaching. The teacher's words drone on like an imposing foghorn. Loud enough to be annoying, but serving no real purpose other than to help one stay clear of the sleepy shore.

Time drudges on. Your head grows weightier than an oil tanker. Your eyes become as burdened as a captain of some vessel that's been out to sea far too long.

Your head hits the desk like a submarine into an iceberg. All systems are fried. "Did they see me? Did the teacher notice?"

A sharp, fiery pain in the back of your neck near the base of your skull grabs your attention. "Sweet Jesus!", you yell to yourself, "An aneurysm! I'm going to die right here in this stupid desk!" Your spinal column turns to ice. If you move, it will shatter. Better to keep still and hope this will all pass.

"It won't, " you think, as you begin to feel light-headed. The room suddenly becomes very very large. The nearest student looks to be a thousand yards away. He gives you a look that says, "What the hell have you been smoking??" Or maybe he said it out loud...how is one to tell at a time like this? Can't they see you're rapidly dying?

Did your heart stop beating?! You put your finger to your jugular to feel your pulse. But there it is, throbbing along as always, if a bit accelerated...

"Breathe!!" you tell yourself, gulping down hugiferous amounts of nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen, and suchforth. Your head feels faint as you sense the blood seeping from your brain. You put your head between your knees to prevent yourself from blacking out. Yeah, that's it, make it look like you're searching through your backpack, and hope that no one notices.

"GodohgodohgodohgodnoIdon'twanttodieIdon'twanttodiepleasedon'tletmedie..." ...but it's too late. You feel unconsciousness rapidly swallowing you. You put your head on your desk and close your eyes and hope that you won't have some kind of writhing seizure.

Gradually, as your senses return, you sit back up slowly, wiping the sweat from your brow. You glance around nervously to see if anyone saw what happened. All you notice is thirty chiseled faces, paying half-attention to the teacher, half to their sleep disorders.

"Maybe class will end soon," you think, "I need some fresh air." You casually glance at the clock and mournfully sigh. 11:38.