I arrived early to school, because I had to be up and out of the house early, and with no better place to go, school had to be my destination. I usually don't arrive early to any school because quite frankly I consider the sleep I have trouble getting more important than hitting a plastic shuttle over a net shorter than myself, which I do in my first period gym class.

With nothing to do once I arrived before my usual time but wander the halls, I proceeded to do so. What I heard and saw before I was even awake enough to enunciate clearly was enough to startle me, anger me, and depress me. My very first hallway was filled as it always is, no matter what time of day, by people wearing clothes so bright they hurt to look at and hair so bleached I wonder from time to time whether the fumes during their dye jobs are a factor in what appears to be their declining collective intelligence.

In particular this morning was a peppy little blonde girl with flawless skin, a come-fuck-me skirt, a little white shirt, and stockings to her knees. Eye pot. A girl who looks good but who will make you braindead. She stood by what I assumed to be her locker with three people, two other girls, one who looked exactly like her and the other a brunette who was dressed a bit more realistically but still neatly enough that one could tell why she was hanging out with her acquaintences. The fourth party of the four was a guy, taller than myself, which means a shade over 6'. He wore short brown hair of a surfer who's never seen a surfboard outside a magazine and a shirt that practically screamed at me "I'd rather be at the beach than wasting my time learning how to read."

I should mention that this little cluster was a common occurence, one can find numerous occurrances of its kind wherever one goes in my school, as I imagine one can find in almost any suburban, dominantly white high school. I wouldn't be describing these people so detrimentally were it not for the impending question and subsequent response about which I am to speak.

As I strolled by, I noticed a sheet of paper folded along its width in the hand of first girl. Such a fold indicates an "official" document, a piece of school work, maybe a permission slip for a class trip or a dance. This girl reads her paper, looks up at her friends, and asks, her blonde hair abounce, "Hey, what the fuck is a serrated knife?" At this point, I snickered to myself that she had obviously gone 16 years and never had it explained to her that had she eaten cow (these girls are invariably vegeterian, or protest to be) she would have probably been cutting with one.

What angered and depressed me is what happened. Apparently her friends understood this as a legitimate question, and after a second and a half of turning quizzically to each other with helpless eyes, shrug their shoulders almost in unison. The male grunted to the tune of "I don't know."

Now, as I mentioned before, I could be being too harsh. Maybe the actual term for a serrated knife is not as common knowledge as I thought. But I have serious doubts about that. I can understand one person not knowing. Maybe extenuating circumstances sheltered that person from having to use the real words for something. But that four people didn't know is mind boggling. Read a book. Or if it's more your speed, watch a Ginsu infomercial.

If you've seen Louis Black's stand up comedy act, if I ever have an aneurysm, think of the words, "What the fuck is a serrated knife?" and you'll know what caused it.