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Yep, I was obliged to write a story every week for english class since the teacher didn't like me correcting her constantly (Not my fault she's a ******** dunce)

So, before I actrually do give her this story, I was hoping I could maybe get a second more realistic opinion.

The story seems like a chapter from a bigger story. It's intentional. Yes, it's a more romantic story for teenagers. I prefer doing adults, but I'm entering this contest in the writing forum as well :3

Damn, another field trip to the planetarium, this is the third time these two past years. I pratically memorized the whole tour." -I thought to myself, almost muttering it out loud.

The bus finally came to a screeching halt, and we were all kicked out without remorse or sympathy. I had to admit, the tour... sucked, as usual. Why did mother paid for this again. What a waste of my time. Or was it? For once in 3 years, the one I have pratically stalked with needy hands and heart-punching stares, has finally come aboard this hellish educational trip. God, how I yearn to sleep under her eyes and breathe her breath. To taste her lips and brush my hands against her silky hair like the wind in the willows.

A few hours tossed forth and forward 'till we finally reached the more "phenomenal" part of the tour. The tour guide wasn't exactly attractive. Especially when she flashed horrifying layers of old skin and distasteful make-up that apparently came from a line of make-up called: "Why bother". It was burning my eyes with each glance. To be shallow for mere moments, her presence was pratically putrid. She wasn't exactly the kindest creature either. Touring us with an iron fist and a whip below her left calf.

Anyways, it was the observatory. Or some kind of Imax theatre, that we stumbled in with impatience. To be in detail and explicit, it's where you look up and gaze for hours upon a collection of spectacular stars and you learn about them and the constellations that compose and make up the past's imagination.

"Hey, Fletch. Is that you?" whispered a familiar voice from behind. I turned around to notice that my childhood friend, Britney came to the Planetarium. At least I was able to relate my suffering with someone. I felt a drape of relief cower before me.

"Hey! There you are. Where have you been? I didn't notice you before."

She giggled a little bit and leaned back, winking an innocent wink: "I snuck off to check out some other places." She's always like that. Breaking rules to repel off that incurable infection of curiosity. She's the more adventurious and exotic side of me. If I had another side, I suppose.

The light slowly began to dimmer and the show began straight off the bat. I got a look at my surroundings and my eyes widened with baffeleness and incomprehensible theories on why this person was right next to me. Melissa, with her eyes twinkling to learn more and a smile that shone like a star of it's own.

Seconds and minutes twirled by me as I couldn't concentrate. Sweat of nervousness explored down my neck. Her left eye plopped off the screen and glanced over to me. Redness filled my head and I flinched long enough for her to realize I was staring right into her. I felt a bubble of humiliation and embarrasment spawn from my fast-beating heart.

Quickly, the seats tumbled back so we wouldn't put our neck in a stiff part. Imagine how many complaints they'd get otherwise.

The tour's voice got a bit different and they tried to add a little comedy with some cliche jokes and some bad puns. I was rolling my eyes so much, you'd think I was having a seizure. Naturally, I heard many giggles from my left. A giggle that could bloom many melodies. I melted on the spot, despite the fact that she was a victim of bad taste in humor. And don't get me on the part about Uranus.

Meteors occasionally flew by to add realism. I was constantly foolishing hoping for the evident event to happen. And somehow... it did!

Moment onward, I gripped onto the hand-rest with my freezing palms. They were constantly being tormented by the high level of air conditioning. I shivered from time to time 'till I felt a burst of warmth surge from my hands to my heart. I didn't dare look beside me. To ruin the one moment I have dwelled upon in my deepest imagination. The warmth of her hand was almost unbearable. I almost fainted when I had the audacity to actually cocked my head to the left.

There she was Melissa. She tilted her head and simply smiled. I was baffeled. My hand slowly began to become a jigsaw puzzle. Letting her slip each and every finger into each ajar hole between my fingers. I gulped a hard gulp, I didn't know what to do, but do nothing. I heard a sweet sigh from Melissa, I think. I was hooked and almost lured instantly after that breath creeeped out of her plum and riped lips of her's. Time after time, I was hoping for Einstein's theory of relativity to cripple over this once everlasting moment of love.

But it didn't, sadly, it didn't and we held hands in the darkness, because inside it was blazing with pure light... 'till we found the exit. Then, seconds later. I was abandoned and left in the reality of the real world.

Sceptimism overcame me as I stared emptingly at Melissa and her group of idiotic judgemental friends. All pointing in my direction (or rather at me). I was lost trying to cope with what was happening. Was this fantasy or an immature cruelty currently occuring? Before, I could convince myself either or neither. I was ambushed by one I could trust:

"Hey you, how did you find the show" -Britney interrogated with amusement.

I looked behind me and just smiled with a touch of distraction and gave her a lame thumbs-up.

"I learnt something there, for once."

Wow...you are a very talented writer. 3nodding I've been thinking about writing an outline for a play/movie. Though, first, I'm going to watch as many classic movies as I can so that I can learn some good techniques. So far, I've been watching movies by Stanley Kubrick, Orson Welles, and some other legendary directors. 3nodding

xD Where are the spelling mistakes, I can't find them.

Don't get me wrong Cujo, romance novels these days are so cliche, I'm rolling my eyes with every page xD <3

Very much, I should fix them in a bit

Groggy, Holden cracked into correct posture. "B'jesus, what a night. Should've stopped after my 12th non-caffeinated root-beer" Fumbling from the covers and out of bed, he snagged the last bit of his underpants (That haven't disintergrated from over-usage) and hurried downstairs for his daily meeting with Cap'n Crunch.

"Crunchitize me Capn", he cried out with glee as he dug his dirty spoon into another non-nutrional-mother-would-not-accept-this-kind-of-eating bowl as he flicked on the T.V.

Some may be page-turners, others are channel-flippers. Holen was a cracked cartoon-viewer. Even at the age of 22, he still grew fond of Sesame Street and SpongeBoob. Don't believe me? Just check his socks, already mutating with dirt and whatever bacteria was lucky enough to hook up with this dream resort. Not even Holden himself would venture to the bottom of his dirty laundry. A shrine he often sacrifices a shirt or a belt, so the Gods could let him be relieved of any stench that could suffocate the very lungs he was using during each interval of his bowl of cereal.

He let's out a puff to realize he's gotta go. Tripping over board games and empty cases of Tofu, he stumbles to the bathroom and squats down.

...2...3 minutes pass with nothing but plopping of his excrements and groans and moans of aching and pushing.

Finally, the toliet let's out a loud flush and he comes out with toliet paper equipped on his waist in case of the most extreme and urgent event, he raced downstairs to see some old geezer had interupted Sesame Street. After the immediate intervention of a childish tantrum, he started to listen.

"G'morning Ladies and germs (It was too early in the morning to be suffering from bad puns and jokes). We interupt your educational program to inform you that we are finally at the end of our coffee supply." Seeing as Holden doesn't drink coffee, he was unaware of what events may occur further on. Already outside his fogged window were parents and adults racing desperately for one drop of warm caffeine.

The end was near, and ironically, just on time consider today was June 6th 2006, or 6/6/06. What luck, what a coincidence.

Ahem, as I was the saying. Holden didn't react. Instead he yearned for another dose of sugar and hurried to put some actual pants on.

The sun was already blazing with hot rays and light and few transluscent clouds were brimming with anxiousness for the world to end. Outside, he whined and griped of the nosey sun, growing ever closer with interest on how the world is reacting without their desperate need for coffee.

Quickly, he dodged another low-life "Please, please", the 40-year old begged with a n an idiotic accent "Please grant me a few beans of coffee, in exchange you shall have my presidency." I think it's evident to say who this crippled man might be...

In the bustling town of the city, windows were cracked and the idea of opening doors and being civilized was only but a far-away dream that once was resident in this city. Inside Dollarama, Holden grasped at the endless alleys of candy, candy and more candy. A stream of drool began to slither it's course into the outside sewer. Depite the fact that the place looked horrid and raided by deranged and needy folks. Holden took his time and picked out his favourites.

The cashier, a stickly old figure stabbed what seemed to be random buttons, was such a burden to the eyes, that Holden felt the torment of looking straight at him.

"One dollar and six cents" He muttered under his putrid breath. Holden collapsed onto the counter gasping for air. How could such a foul smell spawn from such an old man. This cashier was not one to provoke.

Jingling in his pocket he found the folowing: 1. Lint 2. Ticket-Stub. 3. Deed to Bill Gates' Mansion

All useless junk. Getting a bit intimidated by the impatience of the aged human, he checked with hope in his belly button. 1, 2, 4 quaters. That would come to... one dollar. Alreay Holden was getting giddy with the future enjoyement of balloon-blowing, chocolate crunching and sour-twisting-- Wait, he still needed six cents.

Upon his left forearm, he went down the list:

1. Begging
2. Sex-appeal.
3. Threats
4. Pick up Milk and cereal.

Shrugging the last one off and skipping the first one (C'mon, was he really that desperate?), he started by unbuttoning his shirt, one by one. "Hey, how about we let the six cents slide, mista'? By the way... what's your name?"

The old man gave permission for his grin to creep up and whispered in Holden's ear before giving a taste: "Name's Snake, The Serpent".

Disgusted, Holden shrieked and gave the old man a boot before resuming the conversation. "This may be the grammar Wiz and future-editor in me, but... don't you think it's a bit redundant of a name. I mean, we know you're a snake (a really ugly one, sheesh) or a serpent. So why have both? If you ask me-"

When Holden regained consciousness, he was outside sleeping with the fishes. Good thing they were cooked and didn't look too bad. Already he could feel the slump in the economy due to low productivity. The once ever-growing industrial towers were now being degraded to their lowest form: Mc'Donanld's

Holden was exasperated and clinged onto the first thing his hands could hang onto. He heard a the clenching of a fist and-

When Holden regained consciousness, he saw nothing but shacks and the occasional tumbleweed. Must've derived from a billaboard since the it had a "Got Milk?" lettering embedded in it.

The sun was sinking below visual existence as what seemed to be the last day. Terror was rising in the streets, death was the only aurora in the air. Parfume aisles were the only means of torture and endless sufferings.

Depressiong hung over Holden's head like a dark cloud squeezed into emptiness. Regret of another wasteful day slumped and shackled Holden's feet as he trailed and dragged his feet back to his house. Digesting the last skittle, he slid into bed and awaited the end of the world.

Where was Starbuck's and their over-priced mochas now?