Ch-ch-changes

“Ain’t goin’ to school no more. It starts too early for me!” Elmo sang from the shower, making the landlord thump his broom on the ceiling. He wrapped a towel around his waist, shaved and splashed on his Old Spice knock-off. Life was good. Classes were over. Today would be sunny and 76. The weekend would be the same, but a little windier. He dipped his hand in a bottle of Crew Glue and tried his best to get that Superman-piece-of-hair-hanging-down thing going. He started strutting out of the lavatory, when he accidently slipped and bumped his head. “Who am I?” Elmo asked. “What’s this in my hair, and why are all these men’s clothes lying around?”