I have a tiny Dr. Epperson candle deep deep down inside my soul that flickers a wee hopeful message that maybe just maybe he will come in tomorrow and let us pick our own essay topics and I guard this candle fiercely with walls and partitions and batteries of soul-cannon to block invaders and shoot down doubtful maurauders who would tromp into my sanctum and huffpuffblowwww out my tiny Dr. Epperson candle
There would be an epic battle raging around its feeble light thrust parry feint explosion return fire evasive maneuvers and I would dodge and swipe and take careful aim with one extra second to make the shot count which is always a better idea then just winging a man when you're running low on ammo or so I have heard
This candle gutters and flickers when I look at the outline of my paper staring glowering magnifying in an accusatory window on my screen glowing menace harassing remaining unfazed by threats or placations I will smite you window of Doom you will be defeated when tomorrow's sun reaches its zenith unseen to those of us in windowless classroom then I will strike the death blow and you will hear it coming in my fingertips on the keys the ratatatat of the machine guns or the scrrrrrrrrrrrritchsratch of my victorious ballpoint pen the arrow's flight across the blue lines and pink margins quake quake quake for your entirely imminent demise
Oh tiny candle burn on please
I am stacking wood for you and dipping wicks to keep you going and you ought to take that into consideration before you melt
away tiny candle I have become rather attached to you and to the shadow picture you cast into my mind of Dr. Epperson coming into class tomorrow and maybejustmaybe letting us pick our own essay topics so please do not blow out tiny candle I am nearly out of midnight oil.
