I used to love playing knuckle fuckers. I am fairly certain that's not what we called it, but game is the same. My friends and I would play "Hits," where you go around and punch eachother once as hard as you can in the shoulder. Whoever gives up first is the loser. We had spectacular bruises.
In middle school, I had no friends. I would read during break and lunch. Our school was small enough that it was very easy to find an empty table to sit at by yourself. There were these two girls (Andrea and Katie - damn them to hell) who used to pick on me daily. They would slam my head against the lockers, shove crap in my locker (there were no locks on them), tell lies about me to the head of school, laugh at me, and all around make my life miserable. So, 8th grade rolls around, and I'm starting to get a head on my shoulders. A rumor had started going around the school that Andrea and Katie were drinking in the bathroom. I popped my head into the lady's room, and sure enough, there they were with a bottle of Jack. I chilled out in the computer lab across the hall and waited for them to come out. I followed them to the edge of the woods and watched them try to light the woods on fire. While it was raining. A little birdie tipped off the middle-school head, and they were expelled by the next day.
In 10th grade, I had a crap english teacher/advisor/upper-school head. Her name was Ms. Pont. (She referred to herself as the "Pontessa.") Words can not express how much I hated the pompous ass of a woman. She got very upset at me during english class when I would correct her on her grammar and spelling (which happened a lot). One day, she was just being her pretentious self, and it was getting on my nerves, and on the nerves of my friend Ashton. The two of us, during lunch (while she was teaching an AP class), went to the lower foyer, grabbed a huge wooden fish statue, carried it up the stairs and through the media center, and propped it up in her chair behind her desk in her office. We then planted ourselves in the media center to wait for the impending explosion when she found it. Sure enough, she walked into her office halfway through class. We heard, "What the fucking hell?!" and then saw her run out into the media center, look around with a frenzied gleam in her eye, and run down the stairs to the commons. We were never ratted out, so she could never prove it was us. But she knew. Other teachers (who hated her as much as we did) saw us carrying the fish didn't say anything.
Oh the joys of little private schools.
In 11th grade, I switched to a public school. There was one girl, Carla, who was one of those "I hate gays and blacks and anyone who isn't like me" girls. She was all ready to be friends with me until I told her that I wouldn't go to church with her and her family. After that, she decided she hated me with a passion. Now keep in mind, by 11th grade, I was done putting up with shit from other students. I could actually stand up for myself by then. So, to get at me, Carla started going after my gay friend Thomas. She would go up to him in the hallways and call him nasty names and threaten to hurt him. Thomas would tell me about it later on in the day, and it would really make me mad. After school, we both had the same place we went to go have a smoke before various afterschool activties. (I had tennis, theater, or GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance). She had FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America) or FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes).) I walked up to Carla, cold-cocked her in the jaw, and explained to her that she wasn't going to pick on Thomas any more. As I was walking away, she grabbed me by the throat and put me into a head-lock. It was a clumsy one (because she was a stupid bitch who didn't know how to fight) so I just elbowed her in the solar plexus and kept walking away. She stopped picking on Thomas after that.
Wow that was a longer post than I had intended. I have all kinds of stories from grade school.