The way my chair swings back and forth at a momentum's whim is frustrating.  A quick look around the room reveals plenty of people ever shifting on the tiled floor.  Oh what I wouldn't give to replace my broken carriage with one of solid axle!  I cannot stop rocking.  Though I loathe my metal bars that swing below me, I cannot resist its hypnotic rhythm.

Tap, tap, tap.

Like a masochist under a leaky faucet, I continue to let the painfully slow rhythm drip down the sides of my brain.  The bars below me are not of a normal design.  Instead of touching the ground on all fours, it extends out and back in like a triangle with curved edges.  This snake of Eve lost its legs, cursed to attempt supporting a person with its entire body and none too happy about it.

Tap, tap, tap.

The rocking interrupts my writing.  Obviously the heathen snake does not want its story public.  I will write on.  Nothing will stop my pen short of the teacher’s call!

Tap, tap, tap.

Do not try reasoning with me, for you will offer no bribe that will make sitting on you enjoyable.  A warning to any others who sit, do not let the chair win.  Do not accept the bribe of the tapping snake.