I wrote a short story. I'd love to hear what you lovely people think of it.
FINNISH PEOPLE ARE CRAZY
by R. Merryweather
I was lying at my desk. The dark-blue lighting signalling the end of the day, filled the classroom. I was on my iPhone.
I uttered a sentence. "Finnish people are crazy..."
...
"What was that, Max?" asked the voice of a girl with no breasts.
...
I arose from the comfort of the arm pillows I had created, instead placing my hands on the wooden school desk beneath me, I pushed myself up, and roared with the passion of a thousand lions.
"FINNISH PEOPLE ARE CRAZY!!!"
The girl sitting next to me, Lisa Himmler, the cute grand daughter of some army general or whatever, stared at me in utter surprise, whilst sipping her ecological juice. Because that's apparently healthy for you, allegedly. It is however, my belief, that health is a societal construct created to keep true men down. My father always said, that the reason the Taliban Terrorists are so crazy, is due to lack of bacon.
"What's that, Max~?"
She asked, rising from her chair delicately, and leaning against her own wooden desk.
"Finnish people! They are crazy, Lisa! Did you know that when a Finnish man recieves his doctoral diploma, he recieves a TOPHAT and a SWORD?!"
I waved my arms dramatically, as to convey the intensity of the situation. The same intensity that my father had, when explaining to my mother the nonsense in her actions of insisting on salad for a barbeque. I mean seriously, SALAD?! That is the food that our food eats. It makes no sense.
"Whaaaat? Really, Max?"
The blonde twin-tailed girl in school uniform, reacted equally dramatically, to my extremely interesting fact.
"Finnish people!!! They do not understand the concept of small talk, whole families sit around the table and eat, without saying a word to each other!"
"Is that really true? How can that be true?!"
"They will only speak to each other, if absolutely necessary!"
It was then that I realized something my father once told me. I still recall him flipping the sausages over the grill with one hand, and chopping wood with the other.
"LISA! I remember now! My father told me, Finnish people during the war, would skii down mountains in the middle of the night, and assault Soviet camps with machine guns, wearing all-white so that they could not be seen!"
Lisa Himmler's eyes now lit up like a thousand gas furnaces, as they did whenever one talked of the war.
"Whaaaat?! That's so amazing, Max!!"
Of course it is amazing. My interesting facts, and the knowledge they display, are beyond this world.
"Not only that!! Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic, these languages can all be called dialects of the same language, EXCEPT FINNISH!!"
"I do not know how it is statistically possible for all Finnish people to walk with knives in their pockets, BUT IT SOMEHOW IS!!!"
"A swede can go to Denmark and feel culturally at home, but a Swede cannot go to Finland and feel culturally at home! It is a cold wasteland, where nobody talks to each other, where Doctors wear tophats and wield swords, and where everyone carries a knife!!"
Lisa stared at me with excitement as I dramatically flung my arms around, whilst roaring out my infinite knowledge and wisdom.
It was then that I realized it was eight o'clock on a monday, and I had no idea why we were still at school.
"... Lisa."
"... Yes Max?"
"Why are we still at school?"
"... Well you were here, so I just stayed around."
"... I'M HUNGRY!!!"
I now realized that I had not eaten any form of beef for a total of eight hours.
"DAD! PREPARE THE GRILL!!"
I screamed into my iPhone, the second my father picked up.
"YOU GOT IT SON!"
He screamed back, with equal passion for all things manly.
Realizing the janitor had locked the door sometime around six o'clock, I ran to the window, and started crawling out.
"Wait for me, Maaax!!"
Lisa ran after me, we went to my place, and had a late night barbeque.
