The youth's eyes bloodshot,
and had the usual vacant look on his zit covered face.
His old Levi's fit tightly into his suede, knee high boots.
He sported a Motley Crue T-Shirt and an omnipresent comb in his back pocket.
The tall, lanky teen ran his comb through his blonde shoulder length hair.
Dennis reached into his front pocket and took out a box of Marlboro's.
He placed his cigarette gently into his mouth.
Below his greasy his nose, was a gathering of 15 to 20 hairs, intended to form a mustache.
Having smoked most of his cigarette, he greeted his friends.
They exchanged ideas of which hour of the day to would all skip.
The bell rang.
Dennis returned to his car.
He turned off the Motley Crue tape and searched frantically for his only folder.
Not having found it, he meandered in the general direction of his first hour Gifted Calculus class.
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