MY friends and I have over active imaginations.
Not the type that keeps you up at night worrying that you may have a contagious disease that will kill you in a matter of minutes, but ones that keep the conversation lively, interesting but completely weird. If anyone were to listen in they’d think we were crazy and belonged in a mental asylum. But the conversations keep a smile on my face for the rest of the day and memories that will stick for years to come. We laugh and we joke; we think of the most random and insane things and turn normal situations into ones which you can hardly believe your ears; but to us they’re true.
There have been many occasions in which we have been interrupted mid-conversation with the comment ‘What are you talking about?!’ or ‘Seriously, that’s quite strange’ but all these comments are light humoured and we just laugh and carry on with the conversation; maybe welcoming our newly found guest into our mad world.
Today, we dissected a rat – Biology of course. We got so involved in it being told we were ‘hacking’ it instead of slicing but we didn’t care it was fun, an adventure, an experience. We laughed whenever we could, making jokes of a skipping rope intestine and the foul smell of the preservation fluid. The smell of death we said lingered in the air, waiting for its next victim when the rats will rise again, and in that instant in fits of laughter; a sudden jab in my arm and a shooting pain through my bone stopped us in our track; she had got me, stabbed me with the scalpel used to hack the rat! While laughing and having a ball, she got excited waving around the sharp death instrument like a flag on celebration days and happened to strike me in the arm leaving a line of torn skin and red liquid, known only as blood. I yelped and thought this was my chance, my chance to have some fun.
‘Argh you got me!’
‘The rat has HIV’
‘OMG I’m gonna die’ I cried.
‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! If you sprout whiskers & fur, I’m sorry!’ she shouted
‘I’ll claim compensation! I’ll be spider-man with superpowers!’ I screamed
‘I’ll live in the sewers & the teenage mutant ninja turtles will be formed!’
Fits of laughter again. I told you overactive imaginations, ones that keep you entertained like a movie and hot chocolate on a cold winter night with the sound of rain pounding on your window sill. Overactive imagination, one entertainment which comes free, makes you love been a teen.