It's All Newton's Fault

I'm not one to hold grudges but there are some things you can't forgive. First it was the constant stare-downs. I wanted to stab a spear clear through him, just to make him go away for even a second. I would close my eyes, but I knew he was still there, judging and taunting. He'd mock me daily according to some fucked-up schedule of his. I'd had enough.

That's why I started this war with the moon, a war that won't end until one of us has been ripped from his orbit and flung into the far reaches of space.

Kindergarten Physicist

Sir Isaac Newton had once again allowed his anger to get the better of him. For punching Lord Chesterfield in the stomach, he was sentenced to 9 months of forced servitude at the Trinity College Kindergarten of Cambridge.

As a man of science, Newton could think of nothing more unscientific then children, and life at the kindergarten proved unbearable. Most of his time was spent teaching the guttersnipes how to stack blocks in a geometrically pleasing manner, an activity which their infantile brains proved incapable of comprehending.

He would always refer to this period as his descent into the dark ages.