Dear loving readers,
Pshhh. Yeah, right. Let's try that again.
I have a story for you? Want to hear it? Of course you do! It's a Geometry story.
It all takes place yesterday morning........
As I was sitting in my desk in my new Geometry classroom (unfortunately the teacher remained the same. Oh well, more fun for you.) yesterday morning, the most predominant thought floating around my silly, impressionistic head was: What the hell?
Why this seemingly random and border-line offensive phrase? I assure you, I had my reason. But I'm getting to that.
Picture it: It's the first day of the first week of the second semester of school, and I'm slouched down in that pre-mentioned brand-spanking-new-to-me desk, which is five rows from the door, three back, and is a slightly yellow color, sort of what the Sandman would look like with a bladder infection. There are lots of new faces, new people, blahblahblah-- All of this isn't why I'm thinking "what the hell," although the desk is tempting my brain into other expletives. Nor is the flickering light above the dark, smelly corner of the room (which looks strikingly similar to those shady back alleys featured in cop shows) the reason for my confusion. Not even the Sumo Wrestler sitting behind me, or the droning about correct models of calculators humming in the background. (Oh, and just to clarify: the Sumo Wrestler behind me? He's not actually a Sumo Wrestler. That's kind of obvious, because if he was a Sumo, then I would be huddled on top of my desk, screaming "WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!" and doing this very much because of his chubby butt cheeks hanging out of either side of his Sumo diaper thing. Eew. Bad visual.)
No. I'm thinking, "what the heeeelllllllll" because of--you saw it coming-- (dah dahdah dAH!) Mr. Crappyman himself. (Yayyayayayayyya. Wooo!)
Just kidding. Cut the crap. Hehe, get it? Crap? Crappyman?
What's he doing, you ask? Well, besides just being there.
What he is doing is dressing like a complete ninny/dweeb.
Is that ALL?!
Yes. And it's enough. It's only the first day back, and already he looks so rumpled it could be Friday.
Anticlimactic? Nawwww. Hey, shut up. Well, no; you're right. Too bad, though. Because I control what kind of stories I put on this blog, and how lame they are, and how they end.
And since I now--and forever will--how this power, I am now going to apply my right as an author to make up a wildly out of control and obscenely untrue account of what happened next, and how it all ended. Here it goes:
So, I'm sitting at my desk (like I've said, like, 2 times before this. Just making sure you are paying attention), completely spacing out and writing the first draft of this entry, when I decide that it's time to check the clock to see how much more time I have to sit here. I turn around and--OH MY AMISH!!!! What the Hell! Sumo is right behind me. And when I say right behind me, I mean RIGHT BEHIND ME. I turned my head to see the clock in the back of the room, and his extremely large and Sumo-like face was inches from mine. (For the record: this actually did happen. As I'm conferring my notes I had written for this entry, I see this note scribbled in the corner in my scared-shit less handwriting that says, quote unquote, "I turned my head and Sumo was right there! It was SO scary!!!" Really, that's what it says. I swear to Regis Bejesus, I must have jumped like three feet into the air. I know I gasped. I just hope that in real life he didn't notice; I don't want to be on that guys hit list.)
But in my make-believe alternate ending, he does notice, and his face turns red. He grabs my shirt collar and says, "What you lookin' at?" (Also, he says this in a distinctly Brooklyn accent. Or at least he does in my imagination.)
I gulp, and squeak, "The clock?"
Sumo scowls, and then releases me from his meaty paws. I scramble on top of my desk to get further away from him, setting up all of my books, note books, and binders into a make-shift barricade around me. Meanwhile, almost everyone in the class has noticed the exchange, except for that guy who always falls asleep in the middle of class and drools all over his desk. I always pity that guy. But everyone except him saw everything, and they are anticipating a fight.
And in fact, they start to chant, "Fight, fight, FIGHT, fIgHt!"
One kid pulls this Sumo Wrestling costume out of his back pack, and hands it to me. I put it on, but it's so big I have to loop it around myself twice. (You're probably wondering why he just handed me a Sumo costume? It's because in my mind, however unsavoury the image is, Sumo is already in his costume.) So, after I put the diaper thing on over my clothes, I hesitantly put up my fists and prepare to fight, which mostly consists of me cowering in a corner while Sumo closes in. It really is an unfair advantage; Sumo has already had years of training to my none.
Sumo takes a wide stance. I start to hyperventilate. Feigning to the right, I dive around his other side and search desperately for someone to team tag. My eyes fall on Mr. Crappyman, who hasn't even noticed that the class has been interrupted. I dash for him and tag him.
Looking confused, he heads for the wrestling ring that has magically appeared. I hand him the costume too, just for good measure. Then Crappyman and Sumo go at it. We all clap and cheer, and throw stuff, I don't know. What exactly do you do at a wrestling match?
But Crappyman, not having Sumo Wrestled in yeeears, is in bad shape. He looks around for someone to tag. I hide behind some other huge guy, not wanting to be tagged back in. Duh. I couldn't even beat a wet noodle at a wrestling match.
Crappyman's eyes fall on "Shmegor Warpath." (This isn't a name for Gregor Horvath. Absolutely not. You must be thinking of someone else. But I am definitely NOT talking about Gregor. This is a completely different person by the name of "Shmegor." And for those of you who don't know him, well...that's a whole different story for another time. I promise I tell you one day, but that day is not today. Anyway, he's in my Geometry class [conveniently]. I don't really know him that well, but I DO know that he has taken several years of karate. That's a plus, right?) Anyway, Crappyman tags Gregor in, and then Gregor proceeds to kick Sumo's ass with his mad karate skills.
And I live Happily Ever After with my butt thoroughly not kicked and completely intact. But it sure has made Geometry more interesting.
BACK TO REALITY- Referring to my notes, I had had a whole note I wrote about spiting (not spitting, spiting. As in: "the act of spite") So, um here it is:
(P.S. Keep in mind that I wrote this during class while he was talking and talking and talking, and I wasn't listening to him. And neither was anyone else.)
Okay. You talk Crappyman. Go ahead and eat your heart out with ratios and triangles and calculators. But I'm not listening. Instead, I'm writing this, and lots (hypothetically) of people will read this and hopefully laugh so hard they will pee their pants a little (maybe not?), they'll know this is my way to spite you, and I'll know it. The whole WORLD (unrealistically) will know it.
Everyone except you.
I'd laugh maniacally, but people would stare.
Um...Yeah. This entry wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, so the note might not apply as much as I thought it would when I first wrote it. Oh well. I just thought I'd let you in on my spiteful little thoughts. They can be quite funny normally.
I'm wearing purple fuzzy socks right now. Hehe. I love them. I also love purple. It's not exactly a sickeningly happy color, but it's not depressing either. It's a happy medium, kind of mysterious, and full of personality.
Wow. Okay. Don't know why I felt the need to share my philosophy on the color purple with you. I just go with the impulses.
Oh man. I had a funny story about health class and the stoners I ended up sitting next to, but I think if I do share it, and they somehow find it, then they'll probably shank me. (If they aren't too stoned to do it, that is.) But it was funny. There will probably be more stoner stories in Health class to come, though, so don't feel like you're missing out.
Hm...Is this entry long enough yet? I think it is. I just wanted to write a really long one to make up for my lack of entries lately. I feel guilty leaving my few dedicated readers to their own devices for so long; who knows what they might do in my absence? They may even start thinking rationally again! GASP! How distasteful.
Until next time, and as always, thanks for reading my incredibly difficult opinions and weirdly worded phrases and strange thoughts, alternate endings, and wacky insights. Yeah, I know I'm different. What! NO. Not weird. I prefer unique, thank you very much.
Uh, bye.
...
I said "bye."
.....
Will you just go away. Like now?
..............
I mean it! Scram! Beat it! I don't want you here any more. Just GO!
No comments:
Post a Comment