Aren't You a Crappy Substitute.
Sixth period. Roughly an hour to go and we were home free! But, as everyone knew, daunting as it was, sixth period remained as the only barrier to stand in our way. I visualized it. That warm, inviting twinky driven by a Southern Santa Claus just waiting to take me home. If only I manage to survive sixth period.
Sixth period.
As per usual, we wait outside the door, staring each other down. Well, actually, I looked away. Why? Because obviously, I was better than them! Well, okay, not really. Fear, whether from a football player or a toddler half my height, runs through my veins if I look deeply into the eyes of anyone. Bleh. Our teacher was usually late, only adding to our torment. Just let this day be done!!! Everyone must have thought. As did I. Suddenly, the lock on the door clicked and it flew open. What stood before us was not the average-height, pot-bellied teacher with a sense of wit and sarcasm we had come to know and... love? Euch. What stood before us was a man perhaps half the tallest student's height with a pale face and a thinning hairline.
'Come in.' He whispered. Thin. Wiry. Pale. Did I mention pale? I don't know if he took a shower in flour or what, but God damn, this man was pale. Paler than... paler than Anton Ego. I feel like such a loser referencing to Ratatouille, of all things. Bleh.
He took role. Naturally, no one heard him so I guess he just counted the class and marked some random people absent. What a douche.
But I couldn't help feeling sorry for him, I suppose. Just that nit-picky son of a bitch that some people like to call 'conscience' telling me what I should do, what I could do, if only I could pick up the balls I dragged along the floor at a snail's pace and stick up for the man. But being of the reserved, quiet sort, I stood along the sidelines and watched as the clock ticked on.
We watched a video on World War II. Most history teachers must have amassed quite a collection. After all, World War II was a pretty big war. About as big as a stuck-up actor's bloated ego, but who can tell? They have huge egos.
The video dragged on as most History Channel shows do - the ones that only World War II fanatics like my dad watch - slow and abhorrently boring. How the fuck anyone can stand that trash is beyond me, but apparently, some people get some major kicks out of them. Kinda like my douchebag classmates. 'General Woodworm', the narrator would boom, and some people would giggle. I remember back in elementary school, some of my teachers would smack my naughty, glue-covered hands and warn, 'When you get into high school, things will be different. You'll be quiet, attentive, and so will everyone else! Now you'd best learn to behave yourself young man or else you won't be fitting in very well!'
Bitch. High school is pretty damn bad, if not, worse, than elementary school. 'Haha, Justin, your hands are covered in glue!' Some of my classmates would laugh, back in 2nd grade. Now? It goes a little something like this.
'Haha, Justin, your hands are covered in my cum. Want me to lick it off!' Cue laughter. Retards.
Anyway, at one point in the video, something hilarious happened. No, it was not a name that suggested something blatantly sexual, it was a piece of balled-up paper thrown directly at the sub. Or maybe the trash can. I dunno, I wasn't watching. Anyway, some Indian kid threw a piece of paper at the sub. Now, since most adults have some sense of resolute dignity - even the quiet ones - the sub, thin and small as he was, piped up. 'WHO THREW THAT!?' The bloated text makes it seem like he shouted, but it was more of a whisper-yell if you can call things that. Oxymoronic much. He continued and then said, now here's the funny part, 'THAT IS THE ULTIMATE... THE ULTIMATE DISRESPECT.' There are a couple of slightly intelligible albeit somewhat gullible things you can say at a moment like this. 'That was very disrespectful, whoever did that.' Or maybe, 'Who the fuck threw that?', or maybe, 'Who's wasting trees!? I'll kill that son of a bitch, I will!'
Yeah, right. The class burst into laughter. Even, sadly, including me. I mean, picture it. A guy who can barely compare to the smallest kid in class trying to sound tough and mean. Also consider that he's paler than a Christmas Eve ghost and the fact that he can barely manage to raise his voice above a controlled yell and you've got something that's going to result in laughs - no matter what.
Things went downhill from there. The sub pulled the naughty Indian kid from his seat and gave him a referral, yadda yadda yadda...
And the bell rang. Whoops and cheers resounded down the hallway. It was a Friday, after all. Time to party it up! Getting drunk sure is fun, and while we're at it, let's make ourselves look even cooler by smoking shit that's obviously going to result in an airbag up our ass when we're old and vulnerable to the oh-so tender claws of this very affectionate world.
Not. What the hell kind of statement are you trying to make when you do drugs anyway? 'Hey mom, dad, look! I'm doing something you don't approve of!' Kind of like listening to Slipknot or crap-tastic shit like that. Now, don't take that as an assumption. Some of their songs are pretty catch and I've been guilty of head-banging during an adrennaline-pumped game of Guitar Hero, but putting on the eyeliner and painting your face white makes you look stupid and foolish. Not cool. Don't take that the wrong way either. KISS? Awesome. I suppose it's understandable if you want to put on eyeliner of white makeup to pay homage to a band you want to make love to, so let me just put it this way. It's not how I roll. You wanna put it on? Alright. Okay. But I, personally, am not one prone to such an act.
I don't know what else to say but this; ignoranace is a formidable opponent. Don't underestimate the bastard.
Kinda got off track, but that's OK! I still feel sorry for the guy, even though he probably couldn't put up a fight to my ten year old bro.
Salutations, comrades.
(I heard ending anything with salutations makes you look like a nerd. Well eat this wrestlers!)
(PS: I don't do drugs or anything like that. But I do do something.
I do the Dew. :D)
Sixth period.
As per usual, we wait outside the door, staring each other down. Well, actually, I looked away. Why? Because obviously, I was better than them! Well, okay, not really. Fear, whether from a football player or a toddler half my height, runs through my veins if I look deeply into the eyes of anyone. Bleh. Our teacher was usually late, only adding to our torment. Just let this day be done!!! Everyone must have thought. As did I. Suddenly, the lock on the door clicked and it flew open. What stood before us was not the average-height, pot-bellied teacher with a sense of wit and sarcasm we had come to know and... love? Euch. What stood before us was a man perhaps half the tallest student's height with a pale face and a thinning hairline.
'Come in.' He whispered. Thin. Wiry. Pale. Did I mention pale? I don't know if he took a shower in flour or what, but God damn, this man was pale. Paler than... paler than Anton Ego. I feel like such a loser referencing to Ratatouille, of all things. Bleh.
He took role. Naturally, no one heard him so I guess he just counted the class and marked some random people absent. What a douche.
But I couldn't help feeling sorry for him, I suppose. Just that nit-picky son of a bitch that some people like to call 'conscience' telling me what I should do, what I could do, if only I could pick up the balls I dragged along the floor at a snail's pace and stick up for the man. But being of the reserved, quiet sort, I stood along the sidelines and watched as the clock ticked on.
We watched a video on World War II. Most history teachers must have amassed quite a collection. After all, World War II was a pretty big war. About as big as a stuck-up actor's bloated ego, but who can tell? They have huge egos.
The video dragged on as most History Channel shows do - the ones that only World War II fanatics like my dad watch - slow and abhorrently boring. How the fuck anyone can stand that trash is beyond me, but apparently, some people get some major kicks out of them. Kinda like my douchebag classmates. 'General Woodworm', the narrator would boom, and some people would giggle. I remember back in elementary school, some of my teachers would smack my naughty, glue-covered hands and warn, 'When you get into high school, things will be different. You'll be quiet, attentive, and so will everyone else! Now you'd best learn to behave yourself young man or else you won't be fitting in very well!'
Bitch. High school is pretty damn bad, if not, worse, than elementary school. 'Haha, Justin, your hands are covered in glue!' Some of my classmates would laugh, back in 2nd grade. Now? It goes a little something like this.
'Haha, Justin, your hands are covered in my cum. Want me to lick it off!' Cue laughter. Retards.
Anyway, at one point in the video, something hilarious happened. No, it was not a name that suggested something blatantly sexual, it was a piece of balled-up paper thrown directly at the sub. Or maybe the trash can. I dunno, I wasn't watching. Anyway, some Indian kid threw a piece of paper at the sub. Now, since most adults have some sense of resolute dignity - even the quiet ones - the sub, thin and small as he was, piped up. 'WHO THREW THAT!?' The bloated text makes it seem like he shouted, but it was more of a whisper-yell if you can call things that. Oxymoronic much. He continued and then said, now here's the funny part, 'THAT IS THE ULTIMATE... THE ULTIMATE DISRESPECT.' There are a couple of slightly intelligible albeit somewhat gullible things you can say at a moment like this. 'That was very disrespectful, whoever did that.' Or maybe, 'Who the fuck threw that?', or maybe, 'Who's wasting trees!? I'll kill that son of a bitch, I will!'
Yeah, right. The class burst into laughter. Even, sadly, including me. I mean, picture it. A guy who can barely compare to the smallest kid in class trying to sound tough and mean. Also consider that he's paler than a Christmas Eve ghost and the fact that he can barely manage to raise his voice above a controlled yell and you've got something that's going to result in laughs - no matter what.
Things went downhill from there. The sub pulled the naughty Indian kid from his seat and gave him a referral, yadda yadda yadda...
And the bell rang. Whoops and cheers resounded down the hallway. It was a Friday, after all. Time to party it up! Getting drunk sure is fun, and while we're at it, let's make ourselves look even cooler by smoking shit that's obviously going to result in an airbag up our ass when we're old and vulnerable to the oh-so tender claws of this very affectionate world.
Not. What the hell kind of statement are you trying to make when you do drugs anyway? 'Hey mom, dad, look! I'm doing something you don't approve of!' Kind of like listening to Slipknot or crap-tastic shit like that. Now, don't take that as an assumption. Some of their songs are pretty catch and I've been guilty of head-banging during an adrennaline-pumped game of Guitar Hero, but putting on the eyeliner and painting your face white makes you look stupid and foolish. Not cool. Don't take that the wrong way either. KISS? Awesome. I suppose it's understandable if you want to put on eyeliner of white makeup to pay homage to a band you want to make love to, so let me just put it this way. It's not how I roll. You wanna put it on? Alright. Okay. But I, personally, am not one prone to such an act.
I don't know what else to say but this; ignoranace is a formidable opponent. Don't underestimate the bastard.
Kinda got off track, but that's OK! I still feel sorry for the guy, even though he probably couldn't put up a fight to my ten year old bro.
Salutations, comrades.
(I heard ending anything with salutations makes you look like a nerd. Well eat this wrestlers!)
(PS: I don't do drugs or anything like that. But I do do something.
I do the Dew. :D)