Summary: Hey, you. Yeah, you. The one that can apparently understand me. Can you help me here? ....Isn't this supposed to be an Elite School? Yeah? Then why can't you people understand ENGLISH?! Aren't supposed to know it for business and whatnot? ...WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!
All I did was sign a piece of paper, then stuffed into a horrible, yellow marshmallow. And now I'm standing in front of a class with all of these kids who look like they got a nasty smell stuck in their noses for the rest of their lives.
I look like the walking dead. Oooh! I'm going to eat your brains!
Oh, I'm supposed to be paying attention now. Oops. "Huh?" I asked, not understanding a single word this creepy, old dude was saying. I think he said something about cheese....
A student, one of those 'glasses-moe' characters (that my friends reads about and explicitly tells me) stood up, fixed his glasses and spoke to me in....is that British English?
"You British? Ya sure talkin' like one." I commented, speaking in my valley accent.
"No." He said, then fixed his glasses again.
"Eh, oh well." I said, shrugging my shoulders in the oh-so American way. "So can you tell me what this old-geezer said?" I jerked my thumb towards the old-geezer.
The student chuckled.