Losing my f*****g mind.

A young man, who is under tremendous pressure, begins to hallucinate while he is studying for a midterm.

  The young man sat in the inner most seat of a large table in a small, crowded cafe. The roaring sound of tidal conversations overwhelmed his small and outdated headphones, which were pluged into a similarly outdated laptop. The music that he blasted into his head was long outdated, as well. Jimmy Page's wailing guitar and Robert Plant's howling words were far and distant, lost under the tow of the conversations outside of the world he was attempting to create in his head. 

  Something bumped him from behind for the umpteenth time in an hour;  an announcement of the contiuous conversation at a over-crowded table behind him being lead by an eccstatic extrovert sitting directly behind him. Sex. All the young man can hear is sex. F*****g, licking, banging, fingering, rimming, etc., etc. He had more than half a mind to turn around and pump off a few shotgun rounds into the center of the annoying party's table. This would be pleasant, he thought, but he didn't have a shot gun handy, so this happy thought quicky disipated.

  The volume on his computer was as high as it could go, so the young man resolved himself to merely concentrating on the task at hand: his upcoming french mid-term. 

          Bonjour! Je suis un jeun homme. J'aime aller au cinema et je n'aime pas etudier!

Another bump came from behind the young man again, along with the words "cumming" and "a*s" from the table's leader. Rage weld up inside the young man and he knew what was going to happen next. Long, curved, black claws popped up from underneath his finger nails, which caused him to cry out in a long and agonizing howl. As his rib cage expanded and his feet and hands elongated, long, brown, maingy fur sprouted from all points of his skin. The itching was unbearable, but the young man felt happy inside; He knew exactly what would happen next. He shot upright out of the corner of  his table, knocking it and the other students at it over and away from him. His normal six foot one inch, 220 pound human frame had expanded into an eight foot, 350 pound creature in just under a minute, barely enough time for the raucous table behind him to be able to escape. The final part of his transformation was finished, as he turned towards the target of his dismay and bared the rows of needlepoint teeth in his snout. He howled and his victims screamed.

      J'ai besoin d'une cafe, s'il vous plait.

   Reality sucks, he thought to himself. The young man had been at his studies for four hours straight, aside from the occassional bathroom break. His eyes ached from the constant changing of focus between his computer screen and the workbook in front of him. I'll need glasses in five years if I continue this way, he thought. I can't afford glasses. The young man found himself suddenly more focused. It didn't take him too long to figure out why. The barrage of sex talk from behind him hadn't just been in a lull, it had completely ceased. He smile triumphantly for he had waited out the annoyance and could now concentrate on his work. However, a thought, a single, powerful thought entered his head: he coundn't hear anything at all. He lifted his eyes from his computer and looked around at nothing, because that is exactly what was around  him: nothingness. The people, the tables, the building, the entire planet, and all realms of existence had gone away. He could see himself, but other than that, nothing was visible. It was at that moment that he realized what had happened. He somehow had passed an event horizon, the barrier, that once passed, nothing can escape. The mysteriously instant black hole that had opened up before him began to pull on him. His feet and legs were pulled longer than a football field underneath him and his arms and torso followed suit. He didn't feel any pain, oddly enough, but he paid this curiousity no mind. What he was far more interested in was whether or not he might pop up in some other galaxy or universe, whether or not Einstein had been right about wormholes. He smiled a hundred yard long smile as the prospect of freedom from his life on earth and the black hole pulled him towards non-existence in this universe.

   Bumped again, the young man's eyes focused instantaneously on the cup of coffee that had overturned onto his laptop, accompanied by a "...then she swallowed!" from the table behind. His hands shook and he felt the blood race into his skull. His skin burned and  his shaking hands balled into fists before slamming down on the table top, over turning the single lamp on the tables edge. The young man stood, climbed onto his chair, and faced the party table behind him. The table's leader, the Bumper, stopped talking upon seeing the faces of the rest of the people at his table, staring at something behind him. He turned.

   All of Hell's fire and hate spewed forth from the young man's throat in one long yell. He could feel his vocal chords beginning to shred as the howl echoed away in the now quiet cafe. As the last of the air in his lungs departed, the young man blinked. He was still looking at the table behind him. He was still standing on his chair. His throat really hurt. 

   He straightened up and climbed down from his chair. Fully aware of the looks he was getting, the young man cleared his throat painfully, sat down, and cracked open the french book in front of him. I going to destroy my mid-term, he thought, as long as I don't lose my f*****g mind before hand.