Tsunami of the Prairies

I left my computer at the airport when I was going through security.  Now I have to finagle my way onto the internet.  This time I have chosen a keyboard with sticky, smelly keys (I've smelt them). 

School is starting again.  This will be my 10th year of post-secondary school.  When the kids around me look at a window, they wonder how easy it is to puke out of.  So, as a precaution, the windows in our rooms do not open.

The ventilation in my room has the power to suck the hat off my head.  The ceilings are high and littered with hats of the ones who have come before.

Walking outside, in the wind, I'm afraid I'll be blown away, as though caught in a wind tsunami, the tsunami of the prairies.  Groups of people will be picked up by the wind and thrown onto chainlink fences.  Some people will be thrown at barbed wire fences and lose limbs.  It will be like world war two, but the enemy will be invisible, other than the registering marks of the debris it flings through the air, and the way it pocesses the trees. 

Spellcheck doesn't work here, that's how bad it's become.  That's how far away I am from civilization.  "Your" and "you're" have lost their meaning. 

This epistle may not reach your end because the internet connection is weak, but if it does, count yourself thankful for windows that open.  Don't let anyone take your rights away.  Try and forget about me here, as I fend off the beasts in this wasteland.