“Why’d you do that?” asked Asking Peeve, but I was inspired. I ran around the court like a madman grabbing, throwing and kicking my peeves in any direction I could. I punted one over the net and watched it THWACK against a wall, I tossed another through the portable basketball hoop in the corner for a perfect SWOOSH and SPLAT on the floor, and then I kicked one right into a pile of mats that I was sure would bury it for ever. But no matter how hard I tried, my peeves would just peel free and reinflate themselves. Then they’d go right back to annoying me. By the end of the Wallyball game, they were all standing and I was exhausted.
We returned to the locker room as the period wound down. The rest of the guys dressed quickly and headed off to their next class. But I couldn’t peel myself off the bench. My mind was spinning. My inner monologue was going bonkers. And I was feeling desperate and defeated.
“This is crazy,” I said, which prompted Asking Peeve to wonder, “What is crazy?”
And Telling Peeve answered, “He thinks he is,” pointing right in my face.
“It’s not a good look on you,” cracked Snarky Peeve.
And that’s when I lost it. “I’M not crazy!” I screamed. “THIS
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