I held the bowl in a Walmart with a slightly squeamish felling in my stomach. It's not a nice feeling. I don't like it.

Even after all these years I haven't gotten used to the rotten smell. Like, ew.

You know, i only ever noticed the smell when I was done. During the activity I was in a whole different world it seemed. When i finished I was always saying, "Shit. Gotta get rid of this."

Which is exactly what I was doing now.

I passed through the halls of my school, heading in the direction of my ugly puke green locker. You ever see green puke? It is quite disgusting.

Students passed me, oblivious. No one questioned the smell emanating from my bag. We were in the science department anyway, dissections were always going on so strange smells were expected.

When I turned the corner the smell of rubbing alcohol hit me full force. It smelled so much better than what I was holding.

A wave a nausea followed by a coughing fit overcame me because of the smell. God I hate this, it happens way too often. But, really, I need it.

I slipped through the sea of students, careful not to tip the bowl. That would be unfortunate. And very very bad. So I am always careful.

I passed Ms. Litewan's room, Mrs. Towseem's, and finally Mr. Grivensky's. My locker, I could see it right there next to the tan door. Reaching it I expertly spun my combination in. As I did so the door opened.

Mr. Ruckosky. He likes to yell, make jokes, and give people annoying nicknames. Weirdo. He looked like an emu when he moved. Heh, EMU. Emmmuuuu. Moo. Moo Cow. Mrs. Moo Cow. My uncle has a cow. He also has no hair. He's mean to me. He calls me a retard and doesn't let me near the cow. I like cows.

The way Mr. Ruckosky is looking at me makes me think he heard my cow thoughts. Maybe he doesnt like cows. Is that why he's glaring? It's not very nice to glare.

"YO FRIZZ!" He yelled, rudely and loudly. That was mean, I don't like that nickname. And he yelled, yelling isn't very nice. He, unlike my uncle's cow, is mean. My uncle isnt very nice either.

Mr. R is looking at my bag in a mean way. Chi Tea is good. Why is he so mean?

"What's in the bag", he barked.

"Your Mom" I said straight faced, which was kind of hard to do when looking at his smug expression.

"Right. Now give to me and go to the office."

I nodded, it messed up my plans but that was okay. It all worked out in the end. It's OK, I'll go now. I gave him the bag with the foul smelling corpse filled bowl in it and walked away. I walked out of the school doors and into the sunlight.

I walked down the street and contemplated what to do next. I need a new project. Mr. R should have payed more attention to his mother. She'd missed him. I helped.

I am a good girl. I'm not mean like Mr. R and my uncle. I don't ignore my mom. I am nice. My mommy said so. I was so happy to hear that. So happy. Happy enough to help her like I helped Mr.R.

I still remember her overjoyed expression upon seeing her mom's face. It had shrunk a bit over the metal setting but the nails kept it in place. It was hard to make that gift, but really fun. It was worth it when my mom wouldn't stop screaming. The high pitched shrieking had annoyed me greatly. It was fun to quiet her. Now she's quiet. She stays on the floor of the kitchen, clutching the plaque that held the skin from her mom's face.

I talk to my mom everyday after school. She always listens, sitting there rotting quietly. I try not to let the smell get to me. I'll get used to it soon. My mommy had taught me that.

I'm bored. I need a new project that helps someone. I brought Mr.R's mom to him. I think it was very nice of me. I am very nice. I'm not mean like Mr. R and my uncle. Cows are nice too. They didn't like my uncle but the pigs sure gobbled him up quickly and I didn't even have to clean up after them. They're nice too I guess.

I am nice. Who else needs help? Well, how is your mom anyway? Is she nice? I don't think your nice. Do you visit her? Shall we go see her?