Crazy Dave

So it turns out that the sore throat I’ve had recently was a colony of white, and visible I might add, bacteria. Rather disturbing. It didn’t really leave until around a week ago. The last week of school went well. I’m a little sorry to be finished English, devastated about art ending, and ready to sing in the streets in reaction to being done French and pure math.

Oh! Our bus driver today was sooo funny! His name was Crazy Dave. He had an Australian accent and so he’s driving along when he begins to sing. Laura asks him if he likes his job, because bus drivers don’t usually sing, to which he replies, ‘Oh yes! As soon as they release me permanently, this is what I’m doing!’ I start cracking up because I laugh too easily and he turns around and says, ‘Now don’t you wet yourself on my seat, lady! You should use ‘Depends!’ You can go on sleepovers and everything, and no one even knows!’ At which point I am nearly wetting myself. It really doesn’t look funny written down. But you had to be there and you had to be me.