It was a Boring Class

    "Blrgm mfta lagnmf blah blah," Mr. Bohring droned. The words were pouring out of his mouth, flowing together like a river. His voice was deep, and he talked at a snail's pace, so the words were incoherent to me.
     "History class is always so boring," I thought to myself. Then Mr. Bohring turned to the VCR and pressed the play button. He must have been talking about watching a video before. The lights were turned off, so the classroom became a dull gray, with the only color coming from the television.
     "During the Civil War, mphgrk blrgm blozgf blah blah," the telivision droned. I looked at my watch. Only ten minutes had gone by. It had felt like ten hours. I tried to concentrate on the video, but the words kept jumbling together, and my brain kept wandering.
     I decided to try to sleep. I laid my head down on my desk and shut my eyes, but to no avail. The droning of the video, and the snoring of the kid next to me kept me from drifting off, so I laid there, doing absolutely nothing.
     Five hours later, the bell rang with a relieving CLANG CLANG. I slowly gathered up my stuff and walked out of class, happy to have survived yet another day of Mr. Bohring's boringness.

The End