Was this hell? I questioned myself, as I sat in the corner, listening for a break in the wind. Not that I was expecting one. The storm had been blowing for nearly an hour now and I could tell it was one of those storms that rages for days.
I took a look around the room. What a dreary lot of people. Of all the people to be trapped in a room with, it had to be my debate team. Right now, they were probably pondering the theory of relativity or some such thing in their heads. Why did I have to be stuck with the most uncreative geniuses to plague the planet?
I felt like doing something completely outrageous, just to shock them into some sense of humanity.
I rose quietly and crept towards my debate coach. I was like a burglar, soundless in my stockinged feet. I notice a few heads turning in my direction, but I kept my attention focused. I had my hand poised, as if it were a gun and I aimed it towards her head. A few more confused glances were thrown my way. My debate coach was staring at me, almost as though I'd grown a 6-foot nose or something.
Finally, when I was just a few centimetres from her, I let rip with machine gun noises, and ran across the room. I made as though I was dodging bullets from hidden enemies around the room. Just as I came to the other end of the room, I screamed, really loudly.
"I've been shot!" I yelled, holding my shoulder as though trying to stem the blood.
I fell to one knee, giving a few more bursts of fire from my gun, before I collapsed completely.
Lying on the ground, I waited for some reaction. After a while, without having heard a word, I abandoned my death scene and looked up.
The boredom was back in their eyes as they listened to the wind and pondered the meaning of life.
I returned to my corner, satisfied that I had successfully proven that there was no meaning to life.