I recline slightly on Casey's couch exchanging comments with a friend as I attempt to make a small amount of headway on some sort of homework. Just then some numbskull, that doesn't know anything about anything, will prance in on their quivering feet itching to know something stupid. They walk in. Look towards the empty desk with the beautiful black jacket draped across the swivel chair, and realize their treasured person is not there. Pause. Turn. Then, as always, before they can even think of the words themselves I know what is about to come out of their lips: "Is Casey here?". At the beginning of last year I put up with it, thinking how wonderful it was to be the newest expert on the whereabouts of Casey, and that perhaps if I handled myself well she might even write on my facebook wall in return. However, I soon realized that these numbskulls never cease with their relentless pursuit of stupid things and their stupid questions. And like undead they constantly spawn and multiply making my days ever haunted with the little question. They think it is absolutely necessary to ask me "Is Casey here?", even though they looked and saw that she is not in the room. The numbskulls can't even think of a slightly saucier or spicier way to say it like, "Do you know if the eagle is out hunting and when she will return to the nest?". Over and over, "Is Casey here?". The answer, numbskulls, is NO. Odly enough (well not really I guess) the regular numbskulls, who I see at least once a day, continue to splatter me with "Is Casey here?" , firing them as rapidly and as forcefully sincere as a if from paintball gun. "Is Casey here?" "Is Casey here?" "Is Casey here?" "Is Casey here?" "Is Casey here?". The numbskulls somehow think that I have a GPS receiver attached to her ankle or something. Yet the answer, numbskulls, is NO.
Numbskulls:
I do not know where Casey goes or what she does, behind her curtain or anywhere else. Please stop asking, or else I'm going to start ripping you apart.
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