Apology From Inside Locker #413

Hello,

Hopefully this note finds you well and standing somewhere in the hallway between the cafeteria and the library. If you look to the west wall you should find locker #413 about half way down. Likely, I'm still inside.

To the best of my knowledge I've been here eight days. I think there was a weekend in there somewhere. I've lost my voice yelling and I'm now too weak and tired to pound on the locker door. I suppose it's hard to hear me over the din between classes and every time the janitor passes by he seems to be running the floor polisher. If I get out I'm really going to take a moment to admire those floors, because I'm thinking they must be reflective by now.

Speaking of reflection, I've had a lot of time for that lately, and I want to apologize (particularly to those of you who placed me here last week). I know that my personality has rubbed some of you the wrong way . I petitioned to have the football program cut to provide money for mandatory Latin classes (it's a dead language for crying out loud). I fought to have the chess team recognized with it's own pep rally. I often refer to my umbrella a bumbershoot. And I've been told that I am both 'ugly' and 'smelly'.

For the first two or three days, none of these things seemed that egregious. Different strokes for different folks, right? But around day five I had a real enlightening conversation with my coat, which had a surprisingly great deal to say (can't rule out the possibility that this was a result of eating the plastic sack my lunch came in) and my coat suggested that I might spend less time in lockers if I were simply less insistent on being myself. As an object that spends a great deal of time in lockers, I feel like the coat can be trusted on this subject.

So here's my offer. If you'll kindly let me out, the combination is 45-12-33, I vow to fall into line. Haircut, shower, some appropriate attire, and an end to my push for a more challenging curriculum. And I dare you to try to demonstrate more spirit than me at the next pep rally for the football team. I plan to have a foam finger the size of a van (unless that's weird, in which case forget it, I want to fit in remember). What I'm saying is that you really won't be letting me out at all. The me you stuffed in here over a week ago is gone, set straight by starvation, ingested plastic, and a talkative fleece jacket with a broken zipper. So if you'll kindly just open up, you'll find my metamorphosis quite complete, and utterly permanent I assure you. As a bonus you may have all the non edible items that remain in here with me, including my talking coat, and my umbrella. It's just a plain old umbrella now, and I promise that's how it will stay.

Warmest Regards,
Locker #413

[ed. note - all words went into a hat and Amy chose one at random. Feel free to leave a new word for wednesday.]