I've never been a big fan of calendars

These damn fiberous walls are closing in on me. If I had a sword, they would be slashed like a Zoro reproduction. Swords would make my days fun. When I was younger, I got first place at a Tae Kwon Do tournament, and my reward was a set of mock samurai swords. They captivated me, and then my dad stowed them in the attic for my safety. I reckon the incident of me slashing the neighbor's Nissan Z a few months prior with my pocketknife might have triggered concern as well. It wasn't the Nissan that made me angry, nor the uncreative name they gave the car; it was just boredom. I needed a spark, and Bobby Connelly was there to help me. That was a weird block to grow up on, it felt oily. I managed to walk into Joel's house one day through his sliding glass door and take a transformer. I didn't take Optimus, the golden rule was evident, just not vibrant. As I was walking out, I tried to hide the toy in my elastic swim/leisure trunks, but didn't find it necessary. I wasn't scared of people seeing me with an assumed erection, it was more about not looking suspicious. Me and Joel would go on to attend the same Tae Kwon Do classes, I never told him of my crime. His birthday was only two days before mine, his dad wore way too many gold chains. That neighborhood felt like it existed under an overpass, but it was behind a WalMart. I used to have birthday parties at McDonald's, now people want to burn the fast food stores down; I still find innocence in them. I wonder why the designer of my cubicle walls decided it would be "sweet-ass" to make a bi-color wall.