There's gum on the ceiling in the teen room...

We've met in the teen room for almost an entire school year, and we've spent a number of moments pondering the existence of the gum on the ceiling. Last night, we took the liberty of explaining how that piece of gum came to be on the ceiling. We hope you enjoy.


Steven:
The year was 1981. I was being chewed by my owner while he worked on his interdimensional time machine. Suddenly a strange hum began. I knew by the clamping in my owner’s mouth that something had gone horribly wrong. He spit me out, presumably so he could concentrate better. I landed on a diode somewhere on the machine and ZAP! (If I had eyes, I might have seen a flash) And that’s how I found myself here in this time and world where apparently gum isn’t sentient.

Brian:
Oh dear. I’m stuck on a ceiling. Again. I suppose it’s my own fault. Let me explain what happened. Everyone believes someone or something propelled me up to the ceiling. However, that’s not the case .I was on a mission for Billy, my 11 year old chewer. He had neglected to return a library book on time, and it was nearly overdue. Needless to say, it was up to me to return it. After hitching a ride on a truck, I arrived at the library with the book. Made the grueling trek up the ginormous stairs. But the doors were locked, so instead, I crawled up the wall and to the roof. From there, I drilled a hole through the roof and into the library. Unfortunately, I got stuck. And I’m still stuck. With a book four months overdue just above me.

Sabrina:
All I could think in my head was don’t do it don’t do it please don’t do it. The boys in the room in the corner of the teenager section of the library were loudly smacking on their gum. They had just made a bet on who was going to spit their gum on the ceiling. All had failed, thank God, and it was the last boy’s turn. They counted it down until he blew his gum, letting spit fly. I couldn’t see where it went but it never came down. I never went in that room again.

Cassidy:
Heyoo,

My name is Francis (that’s not really my name; it’s the name of the kid who stuck me here), but anywayz. I’ve been stuck here for about 7 minutes. I’m waiting to fall onto some innocent girl. I’m hoping for someone with curly hair, at least. That way, I will stay there and embarrass them ALL day. Hmm, that would be a sight, not to mention an experience. Here comes some girl with the perfect hair for hanging out in! Here goes nothing! Kowabunga!!

Nanci:
I hate that kid. I hate his teeth, his slimy, oozy spit, and his pokey, grabby fingers. I’m trying to stay calm, to stay as cool as my wintergreen crystals, but it’s not working for me. I’m feelin’ really cinnamon right about now. My only hope is that he stays there, laughing, long enough for me to peel myself off this ceiling and drop deep into his throat, where I’ll have the last laugh. I hate him and I hate his slingshot.

Zach:
Being packaged is nice
you should try it sometimes
being chewed isn’t bad either
it’s kind of like a really wet massage
What isn’t fun is waiting
forever
You think you’re cool
since you can take me out of your mouth
and throw me at the ceiling so I would stick
well let me answer with yes
it would be cool
if it worked the first time
but you failed like 12 times
one time you missed the ceiling entirely
then one time I stuck and your friends thought you were so cool
but you’re not cool
you’re actually a douche bag
but I have to give you props
I’ve been here forever
Maybe I‘m magic
too bad that magic is wasted on a shriveled up piece of gum
whatever
I’m going to sleep
or something similar.


Pat:
I am so thirsty. Seriously, this is ridiculous. We all know Jesus got water in a sponge. Now I’m not comparing myself to Jesus. I’m just saying there are ways to get some water up here. Well, I have one thing in common with Jesus. I’m up here for someone else’s sins. Well two things. I also didn’t come back on May 21. I guess we still have October.

Mitchell:
They’re down there, now laughing.
Three tries is all it took, and now all they can do is scittle, chortle, and gawk. Three tries. I should be proud. I’ve watched others stick in many more, I’ve seen paper wads do it in less; I would be proud but it wasn’t my doing. Equivalent to peers inferior to rejected wood, I’m some number aren’t I. I can feel myself stoling, but the plaster is warm. This is my home, my new life, my deathbed. I’d be happy but it sucks. I hate peppermint, you get that when you’re around with twelve siblings, guess I figure my luck I’d be Winterfresh.