The Rampant_Beauty's Rambles

It was a gloomy Sunday. My mother tore me away from my warm, cozy blanket-heaven by dragging me from my feet off of the bed. Being the eldest, back then I was the only child of age to attend Sunday school, a fact that I utterly despised. Despite the gut feeling telling me that the day is going to be the worst ever so far, I begrudgingly did my morning routine, drowning in jealousy at my siblings who’d get to watch Tin-Tin in an hour or so. It is funny how sometimes a six year old can have a better grasp of worldly affairs than the adults, and my six year old self was of no exception. To this very date, I agree with that scrawny short haired chatterbox, that Sunday schools suck big time, period. I used to go to a prestigious Sunday school, which had a few thousands of students. It had three awful attributes, one, the morning assembly, two, the teachers and three, the prefects. The morning assembly, which I found stupid from the very first date that I went there was doomed to be stupider...