Call Me Dirty Minded

1. Amazeberries

Why hello there lovelies, hope you enjoy this story... let the mystery take wonder

And yes I'm highly aware of the never ending spelling mistakes, but remember, this is a story to capture you and make you feel inexorable feelings. Not a scavenger hunt with first prize on who corrects words the most.

Trust me... I did that with chocolate eggs, I did not win.

And for the record, if you have a strong dislike to spelling mistakes then I advise you to exit this book now or else face innumerable errors. Grammar Nazi.

It's quite ghastly, in fact, it just may make this humour book into horror for you.

Oh, and if you don't like cookies you might want to exit...

Chapter 1

Amazeberries

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"You are the only exception, you are the only exception, and you are the only exception..."

The repetitive lyrics curse through my head like a wild bull vexing a cowboy off its back in a rodeo. Heck, the lyrics were jammed in the insolent side of my brain, an area of the brain that can only remember a few things out of the other million things you have learnt.

For example, "my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard like daaamn right its better than yours", heaps easy to remember right? 

Unlike, x is an integer and 9<x2<99 Max value of x-Min value of x=??

Geez, not even Einstein's nearest great grand kid could know this? It's like asking someone to count each grain of sand in a beach, or counting how many stars there are in the country side, which in fact are 3,300. Or not... not sure. I don't listen in class.

I should learn... right now. Which I should be doing, in class... where you should learn... and listen... and observe... and take in... and copy what is written on the board... and understand... and "Zzzz..."

Mm sleep, like a fluffy cloud on a cookie shop, surrounded by cookies... mm chocolate chip cookies with melted chocolate dip and strawberries... Hmm so in tuned, can't hear anything, I'm learning so much like this, teachers should teach like this, my parents should tell me to do the chores like this...Oh how amazeberries this feels, it's like-

"SKYE EINSTEIN, DON'T YOU DARE SLEEP IN MY CLASS AGAIN, YOU INCOHERENT FOOL OF A PERSON!"

Damn... did I mention I'm Albert Einstein's great grand something daughter? Yep that's me. I suppose I did give you a hint of that equation WHICH is impossible, mentally impossible. Well, only for those who of course don't find maths one bit entertaining.

"MISS EINSTEIN ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? GOSH YOUR GREAT GREAT GRAND FATHER IS EXTREMELY SHREWD AND INTELLECTUAL, UNLIKE YOU; BY THE WAY I MARKED YOUR ESSAY. FOREMOST FAIL, WHY AREN'T YOU LIKE HIM? I MEAN HE WAS FAMOUS THROUGH THE CENTURIES WORLDWIDE. HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU....."

I heavily sigh crossing my arms, digging my face in it, the warmth my jacket brings.

Does she ever speak in a normal tone? This isn't near the years of 300AD, where you're about to go into war and have to preach your brave speech about how you will sacrifice your lives till death just to prove a stupid point that one Spartan took a Persian's bread or something... you get my drift?

I silently smirk to myself while I zone out to my mental babbling and minty breath. But as usual, the screeching sound of a gremlin/wicked witch, intrudes my thoughts. I lift my head up glancing at Mrs Vittinborg nattering about my historical gifted relative; it's seriously funny looking at her...