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Schoolyard Stories

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Johnny C:
Please now tell us a story that does not end with the person enduring a terrible fate.

I guess you could argue that the story I told ends with the kid growing up to be me but then you'd be a dick, wouldn't you?

Emaline:
A good story? Hmm.... I went to school in the ghetto from preschool to 11th grade. So yeah. Most of my stories are bad.


Oh!

Here's a story about me.


During my senior year of high school, I attended a regular high school, in the suburbs, as opposed to my ghetto, broke ass art school in the city. Every year, a college located in the town of my new school held a high school/college art show. They showcased art from the local cities and towns. Since I was a freshman, I was in that show. During my senior year, however, my art teacher refused to submit any of my work. She claimed I wasn't good enough, and didn't believe a word I said about being in the show before. I was pissed. I had just spent my last three years in advanced printmaking classes, I had been in independent shows, my work had been in shows at the art museum, and now she was telling me that I wasn't good enough.

Eventually, my class took a trip to go she the art show. Wandering around the exhibit, I see a bunch of work from old friends at my art school, and then I spot it. They had not one, not two, but three of my pieces in the show! My printmaking teacher had a number of my works, and he had sent them into the show. It was pretty awesome. My new crappy art teacher was pissed.

Scandanavian War Machine:
man, i love reading other peoples' stories from school. it really is good reading.

anyway, when i was in 7th or 8th grade this new family moved to town; the dad became the new football coach at the highschool and his three sons went to school with me (although, i only met one; the others were several years younger than me).
there is no nice way to say this but...they are a family of douches. the kids names...get this...are Sterling, Stetson, and Saxton. last name also starts with an "S" i think. douches.
so Sterling was in my class and he was/is your typical quarterback moron with an inflated ego; we never got along. well, one day i decided i was gonna get back at him so i took apart an electric lighter i had and made a tiny, little tazer out of it and resolved to use it on him and hope it teaches him a lesson. between classes i sneak up behind him and give him a good, long zap on the back of the neck; his natural reaction is to start spazzing out and flailing his arms...at least until he turns around, then his natural reaction is to kick my ass (i come from very skinny stock; it was a very one sided fight.)

so i'm trying to fight him off, all the while getting pummelled when a teacher or someone comes to break us up and take us to the office for questioning. he's yelling "he's got a shocker!" and i'm failing miserably at speaking with my sore jaw. we have to wait in some sort of "interrogation room" while the principle is too busy to deal with us (probably drinking brandy in his office and smoking a cigar, the dirty old man), so while we're waiting i finally figure out how to talk again and me and Sterling make an agreement to deny all charges and back each other up so no-one gets in trouble, and basically we got off totally free because i wouldn't admit that he kicked my ass and he denied being shocked; they searched me for my tazer but i think i swallowed it or hid it somewhere because they didn't find it.

the moral of story is: american public schools, fuck yeah! (i learned to make a tazer but never learned long division; shenanigans, i say!)

Caiphana:
This has been most excellent reading. Especially when not sleeping at nearly thee in the morning with someone else asleep behind you. Nothing like stifled giggles in the night.


--- Quote from: Chrasstor on 09 Jan 2008, 18:42 ---Also, one of my friends would always have fake weddings with his 'girlfriend'
--- End quote ---
We had one of those little couples. The boy's name was Jeremy, and was one of those kids your parents tell you won't amount to anything good. I think he was also in AWANA (Christian kid thing. You memorize loads of verses and play healthy, run around like a stupid ass kid games) with me, too... Anyway, they'd get married every month or so. They used ring pops. The noon aides would just roll their eyes at them. And, actually, they said they were going to have sex too. My parents gave me awful sex education, so I thought it meant just lying next to someone of the opposite sex. Damn the Bible. I got made fun of for being the only one in eighth grade who didn't understand the physics of sex. Anyway. They actually had sex in a classroom. Good times.

Quite a few years later, halfway through high school, my dad got a phone call. It was a kid named Jeremy (the one and the same) asking for my brother. After informing this upstanding young gentleman that my brother wasn't home, Jeremy called my father all sorts of lovely names and hung up (reflecting back, my brother had this thing about selling certain substances since he was quite young. It probably had something to do with that). My pops waited about fifteen minutes, *69ed him, and got Jeremy's father on the line.

Jeremy looked a little beat up the next day in school.

Elementary School:

I was the little girl with large glasses who read during recess, but, when forced to play a game for PE, was somehow athletic and always picked first. Go figure. Once, I had a little crush on Bobby James in... third grade. He seriously passed me one of the notes: "Do you like me? circle yes or no." It was cute. So we held hands at recess, and instead of reading, I watched him play four square with the other boys. My mum happened to be a noon aide starting that year (highly convenient if you were ill, forgot to have a permission slip signed, or forgot your lunch at home), and asked me why I wasn't reading. I did a little blushie thingie and mumbled something and she walked off. Bobby gave me his granola bar from his lunch. By 2, we weren't together anymore. Ah, young love.

Elementary/Junior High:

I played soccer for quite a while. When I was ten, I was playing in the second game of the season against "The Ice Breakers." I have no idea what my team was named. I was left forward. Ten seconds into the game, I kid you not, the ball lands between me and the other team's right forward. We both run towards the ball, I chip the ball with my left leg, and the bitch kicks me in my right shin.

It broke. Want to know the funny part? I didn't cry, but she did. Little faker, you broke my leg. Your foot's fine. Anyway, my poppa didn't think it was broken. "It's just a bruise!" he says. I sat on the sideline the rest of the game, obviously, though I was HEAVILY encouraged to go back. After all, it wasn't swelling super bad. *rolls eyes* So, I get carried to the car (after hopping feebly and intoning that NO, I can't walk), and when we got home, dad stood me in the hall and told me that he wanted to see me walking by the time he got out of the shower. Naturally, I sat down after about five minutes of balancing on one leg and cried.

We always went to church on saturday nights. I said I didn't want to go, so the parents decided I'd go to "big church" with them. *sighs* That was a hell service. I don't think you're supposed to sit in a chair with your feet dangling when you have a broken leg. Went home, dad still encouraging me to "walk it off" (BASTARD), I hop to bed (on the lower bunk... I had my own bunk bed and always slept in the top... except when pain abounded). I didn't sleep all night... around three in the morning, my dad came in and apologized for being dumb and said he was taking me to the doctor in the morning.

Four years later, the gal who broke my leg (I always remembered her name, because her team sent me a get well card, and she wrote "i sory i kick your leg. i was tryin to kick the ball) stole my first "boyfriend." Bitch. I was going to break up with him anyway, but still. Bitch. Also, she had these pointy teeth and everyone called her a vampire.


...that was longer than I'd planned.

Hunter:
Just reading over a few posts it seems that everyone's school system is run by Joseph Stalin! When you disappeared, you stayed disappeared. 

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