Sunday, December 14, 2008

First Blood

The hour is upon you, and so I draw first blood. I begin with Rayda.

She’s just a simple girl – you know, tasteless, outmoded fashion sense, and burnt-looking auburn hair that resembles horse mane. We can’t exactly blame her for her lack of taste – or her wealth in distaste – seeing as she comes from a planet of her own, one that's probably twice as ravaged by global warming.

Now aside from her daily fashion faux pas and what all of us have decided is a rebonding disaster, what really puts her head on top of our list is her attitude towards other people: sarcasm dripping all over her bony figure, and a personality like poisoned honey, to borrow from Rowling.

In her mission to ‘achieve excellence’, and because she thinks she has Ivy League intelligence and dares stick that delusion up every ass she sees, her vertebrae have become totally smashed, that she no longer has any motor and sensory control over her interpersonal relations.

I liken her to a hermit crab; in layman’s terminology (which she may actually deem mediocre and worthless), may sariling mundo. Like Rowling's Slughorn, who only surrounds himself with famous and/or affluent students, Rayda establishes human contact only with the "intelligent ones."

When she talks, it's through sarcastic neighs. She may look like a teacher, but her attitude is anything but. Puke now.

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