Middle School: How I Got Lost In London - Plot & Excerpts
Miller the Killer got a big laugh with his impression of my “Here.” His sounded like a witch. Mine had sounded like a hiccupping, burping strangled frog but his sounded like a witch. What I’m trying to say is that even though his didn’t even sound like mine, he still got a laugh. I actually broke out in a sweat when it came to my turn to say “Here” for the second time that day. But I struggled through with no major limbs lost. It wasn’t great but at least it only got suppressed giggles—rather than the unrestrained guffawing that had accompanied my first one. Roll-call on the plane. Miller the Killer was doing his bit for the environment by recycling the same joke. My own “Here”? A masterclass in the art. An Oscar-worthy “Here.” But it was too late: The damage had been done at first assembly. Why, oh why couldn’t someone invent a time machine, so I could go back and do it again? The next disaster came when we took our seats on the plane and Miller the Killer ended up next to Jeanne Galletta.
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