Mr. Big Red Painful Zit

The drool of Professor Bowles’ voice made me yawn. I put my arm on the chair to rest my head for a few minutes of quality “shut-eye”. My finger grazed past my eyebrow and a surge of pain shot through the bridge of my nose. More cautiously I retraced my path and skimmed over the sensitive area. Sure enough, he was back, Mr. big red painful zit. Why me anyway? There were at least 200 other faces just in this same auditorium and he chose me. He could have attacked the gangly read head across the row. Or a perfect nose hit for Mrs. Glamour with the pink backpack upfront. I tinkered with the idea of popping him out of existence right there in the 8th row of Economics. Then I realized it was too risky without a mirror. Something could go wrong. Someone else could get hurt. I sighed in frustration. I looked at my watch. 20 minutes left. I decided to let him be. He would live, but not for long…