It’s just that time again. A late Sunday night and you find yourself staring blank into the divots in your living room wall wondering how so many little bumps could get there.

Except you really know your mind is just sailing off on your luxurious fairy tale cruise ship to procrastination land to avoid your big assignment due first block tomorrow. You’ve already scanned through your usual list of ways to get work done in school.

Lunch, it’s already after the fact. First block, crap that’s when it’s due. You’ve got a big game after school tomorrow so playing sick is out of the question. And you already begged mom to drive you in early tomorrow so you could mack a little game before classes so telling her otherwise would just look silly.

So you’ve finally come to the conclusion of your going to have to do it. After making a late night snack, chugging a very well needed monster, and making sure you have friends to copy your other homework from tomorrow you finally sit down to get ready.

While you start up your computer you probably plan out some quick story ideas. Maybe I’ll write about a friend, a quick gimmick on the latest technology, or the classic movie review you’ve been saving since September.

First thing first, you’ll set the font on 13 instead of the usual 12 to give the allusion of a longer story. But glancing down at the directions which you’re still yet to read you notice a number, the number, of what you need to accomplish.

400 dreadful words. Moments after reading the directions you look at your story ideas and realize that you’re never going to get enough words on those half fast hunks of junk.

Upon sprinting too your room, diving on your bed, and reaching for your phone on the side table you of course check your texts (unless you’re a girl who would already have it on the desk in front of them). After answering your needy girlfriend, obnoxious best friend, or even… mom, you remember why you went to get your phone in the first place.

You’ll check the time, 10:30, and automatically eliminate the early sleepers. Playing ene-miny-mo with the remaining you finally decide on a friend… well contact. You dial the number and wait, no answer. So you call number two, still no answer. Then number three, sleeping. Number four, drunk. And last but not least, number five, who finally answer but is of course absolutely no help.

Leaning back in your computer chair, maybe spinning (optional), you’ll finally realize that your screwed. It’s 10:47 pm and you’ve got absolutely nothing written down except your heading in about font size 74.

Then it hits you, harder than Barry Bonds on twice the steroids ever could. You take a moment to just sigh and think to yourself about how stupid you are. Stopping your feet on the ground to put a halt to the spinning, you wheel up to the computer.

After waving your mouse frantically to wake it back up you begin jotting down your first few words as followed- “It’s just that time again. A late Sunday night and you find yourself staring blank into…”