Thursday, 2 June 2011


People talk about their "good books". Teachers refer to students being in their "good-books" or their "bad-books". Parents talk about their children in the same way, and friends talk about their friends in this way too.
Well I only have one book. It's a pretty cool book too. Like most people, the book exists in my mind; it isn't a physical object. My book is probably very different to yours tho. Because these "books" are in our minds we can let our imaginations go crazy and make them anything we want! Maybe your book is a distinguished-looking, leather-bound edition, or maybe you cut a whole lot of letters out of an old magazine and pasted them on the front of your book and then stuck duraseal on top and now it's all kinda damp looking underneath because you didn't let the glue dry properly first. It could even just be a standard Warwick 1B5 exercise book. I don't know what yours is, but let me tell you, mine is amazing. Way cooler than yours.

My book is green; the perfect shade of green.When I am thinking about a friend and wondering what "class" they fit into, I say (in my head), "Good-book, does **** deserve a star?" Then cool stuff starts to happen.
First of all I begin to hear a hissing sound. Then some more. And more and more and more until hisses are resounding in my head. Slowly my book begins to morph into a man. But this isn't just any man; he is Python-God-Man. When he pops out I always feel the need to sing a song and then just stare at him in wonder while angels dance around his head singing "hallelujah", as their halo's cast him in the most glorious light you have ever seen. And he really is a god. He's the most perfect man you have ever seen. He has perfect hair too;  short, but not too short, but not too long either, just perfect. And it's brown, not too dark, and not too light; it's perfect-brown. And he's wearing jeans, which, as you can expect, are perfect; they're so close to being black, but they aren't, they're just the perfect shade of dark indigo. His skin is the perfect shade too, and he has the most irresistible smile you have ever seen. He's a God. A true God.On the occasions when he pops out of the book my heart always skips a few beats, and I know if you saw me, my eyes would be glazed over and I would have a very vacant look on my face. But I'd be smiling; a guilty-little-pleasure smile. 

Once I have managed to control myself after the initial shock of seeing the most perfect man in the whole wide world in my head, more crazy stuff starts to happen. It relates back to that hissing noise. Suddenly severally silky snakes burst out of his perfect abdomen. They are pythons. You see, Python-God-Man can not speak;
I still can't decide if this is a flaw or not. Maybe the perfect man is silent, which would then allow me to ramble on to my hearts content? I think I would enjoy that. Anyway, he communicates to me through his pythons. When I ask him about a friends current rating or class, or when I ask him if they deserve a gold star or not, the pythons burst from him holding shiny, silver, zippo lighters, and they soar accross the sky and form letters with their flames, that spell words. These words are answers.I know in my heart that when Python-God-Man has spoken, the truth has been revealed. I would never even dream of questioning his judgement; surely such a perfect being could't make a single mistake? After he has revealed the answer I usually spend some more time just staring at him. I could do that all day; and I do, frequently. When I'm having a bad day, I know that all I need to do is call on him. He fixes everything. If I was to say I am "in love" with anyone, I would probably name him. I don't love easily, so that's a pretty big call.

So, there you have it, I told you my book was way cooler than yours.

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