Dear Stranger-head

Mr McDuffie is a blithering idiot, and me thinks he should be the one writing this as he obviously has so many issues or he wouldn't be quite so Not Normal.

But what the hell I have about 40 minutes to kill, and I'm using the pen I stole off my sister so hopefully I can use up as much ink as possible in that time.

So Mr McDufus (Oh, come on I had to write it at least once) 's bright idea was that the only reason "Kids Today" are running around setting fire to dustbins and biting heads of squirrels is simply because we don't get our feelings out. Yeah, right. Like I said: Mr McDuffie is a blithering idiot. He actually expects us all to pour our hearts out onto a piece of paper, and hand it in so some Tom Dick or Hieronymus (must be racially correct these days) from his other class can read it and the return the favour.

I mean for a start, no offence meant, but how do I know I can trust you? You could be that shifty looking kid, with the long black hair (which I know for a fact hasn't been washed because Adele flicked paper in it last week and I swear to god its still there. If you're reading: ITS CALLED A SHOWER FOOL, USE IT YOU HOBO). Or you could end up being some Total Nerd who irons his underwear (unless you're an OCD child and do that anyway), or, god forbid, some Preppy cheerleader who like totally goes around school and spreads all my secrets. I mean does Mr McDuffie SERIOUSLY think that this is a good idea??? God, he is one delusional mother fucker.

Next to me Kailey's already finished and is drawing a picture of a bunny rabbit with eyes so big he looks like he's whacked out on some serious shit, if you ask me. Just for the record: Kailey is not my friend. Just a sort of charity case who I look after out of the kindness of my heart. And plus she has a really big swimming pool.

Well Mr McDuffie has now just (kindly) suggested that we describe ourselves. I'd rather describe Mr McDuffie, who is now battling with the drawer to his desk and I'm rooting for him to go flying backwards any second now. He has balding fluff stuck to his shiny red head, and seems to be going through a Tweed Phase in his life (Adele once asked if he owned tweed thermal underwear, to which he just blushed). Mr McDuffie reminds me of the crazy-next-door-neighbour I never had. Instead I just have Mrs Patterson, who wears a different hat every day, I swear. Our theory is that she's part of a hat-smuggling ring, and that there's most likely dope or ecstasy stored deep inside her blue-rinse nest.

As you shall learn, I hate talking about myself. And that is all you shall get from me!!!!!!! So now if you excuse me it is the end of school; and I have the uncontrollable urge to set fire to a couple of dustbins, and then possibly bite the head off a squirrel or two.

Lots of love Miss Anonymous, A.K.A forget the fact that I mentioned my friends' names as apparently we're not meant to give away our identity. Though how someone's not going to recognise K's great big drawing of a stoned rabbit is beyond me.