Mr. Imondi Is GONE! Draft 2

I walked into class, expecting the bright and shiny face of Mr. Imondi. But as I walked in, there was no bright and shiny face. “Where was he,” I asked. But no one knew. So I packed up my things and went out onto a quest to find him. And as I poked my head out the door, Mr. Frisone yelled and said, “get back in there brotha.”
“Aite.” And I walked back in. I sat on this very computer screen which I am typing at right now, and wondered (while commenting on blogs) where he was. Maybe, just maybe, he was man-napped by two blonde girls. They pulled Mr. Imondi into the back of their van and took out some shaving cream. And Mr. Imondi shrieked in his girl voice, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“MEHR-HEHR,” they roared and pulled out a nice, clean, Gillette Fusion Power Phenom Razor. Immediately, Mr. Imondi went into a high adrenaline rush. Kicking and screaming; hitting everything in sight. He managed to wiggle his arms out of their long nailed grasp. He punched both girls in the face, “MY BEARD HAS IT’S OWN ZIPCODE! 11LEAVEMEALONE!” Mr. Imondi opened the van door, jumped out and ran off to school. Except there was one thing missing, he had forgotten his pants. He couldn’t turn back and enter that van again, his beard meant too much to him. So, instead, he ran into Casual Male XL and found the smallest size pants he could find; an XXL.
Mr. Imondi was running down Old Courthouse Road, running as fast as he could trying to get to school as fast as possible without his extremely large pants falling down. Passing cute little bunnies, squirrels eating nuts, kicking penguins in the face. He even passed by this small group of 3 or 4 children riding their bicycles. He punched right through them and kept on running. But then, karma hit him; he fell for the oldest trick in the book! An old homeless man was eating a banana and he finished the banana. Old homeless people, being the careless homeless people they are, threw the banana peel on the floor. Mr. Imondi stepped right onto it and flipped, a 578 degree flip. Mr. Imondi’s new pants ripped. “DAMMIT!” He kept running and running. His suitcase filled with extra pickles… just incase. He ran and ran and ran, running up the high school hill; he trips on a speed bump. He was running too fast and Willy gave him a ticket. “Here’s a pickle,” Mr. Imondi said to Willy.
“For what?” He responded,
“Just incase,” and took off. Mr. Imondi barged through the front doors of the main entrance of Herricks High School, “WHERE’S THE BATHROOM?! Just kidding, I know where the bathroom is, that’s just a line I’ve always wanted to say when barging through doors.” He ran off into the hallway barging through students on crutches, teachers with binders and books; even Mr. Cooper with his wheeled backpack suitcase kind of thing. He ran back to Mr. Cooper, apologized, and handed him a pickle. “What’s this?” Mr. Cooper said.
“Just incase,” and Mr. Imondi ran off into his classroom; Period 6 Creative Writing. “Mr. Imondi! Why are you wearing such large pants?” said Jenna Bacchus. Immediately, Mr. Imondi threw a pickle straight at Jenna’s forehead; it was his last pickle. He ran to her computer and quickly typed, “Just incase,” on the screen.