Weird Little Bastards
So, I am now back at elementary school. In no way is this a good thing. Admittedly, I’m starting to get used to this little bastards, at least to the point where I can make through classes with grades three to six without wanting to shoot myself in the face… or them in the face, either works. However, the first and second graders are still the very embodiment of why god hates me.
I’ve been here a week, and so far, I’ve only been anally violated once and groped twice. While anyone would agree that being anally violated by a 2nd grader is a bad thing, I find comfort in the fact that it only happened once in one week. That’s not to say, though, that other strange things haven’t been happening to me.
Take today, for instance. In case you never noticed, I have a birthmark on the back of my right wrist. If you never noticed, well, then, you’re not a very good friend, are you. Regardless, it’s there, and one little kid in the second grade happened to notice it as I was trying to leave the classroom. He bolts at me and grabs my arm. He then holds my wrist up to his face, and for a moment I was afraid he was about to bite me. Thankfully, all he did was stare at my birthmark for a few minutes. While that’s kinda weird, I’ve faced weirder, and so was willing to let it go for another few seconds.
Then, he sniffed my wrist.
I’m not talking trying to get a minor little whiff of what my arm smells like. Rather, he moved my wrist right up next to his nose and inhaled as powerfully as he could. I could feel the hairs on my arm entering his nostrils. Whatever the reason, whatever he smelled, he must have liked it, because he let out a mighty “YATTA!” and promptly ran back to his seat. I left bewildered.
Later today, I found out what it felt like to be Jesus. After yet another 2nd grade class, for some unknown reason, the little bastards swarmed me. 30 of the kids just ran straight at me, and I was backed into the chalkboard. Then, they all started reaching up, trying to touch my hands. I have no idea why they wanted to touch my hands, but they did. It was as if they were begging me to heal them from some sort of affliction. I mean, I do kind of look at them as if they’re lepers, but I haven’t noticed any pieces of them falling off.
Regardless, none of them would stop reaching up to touch me, even after they got a good grasp of one of my fingers, or my wrist. I yelled out to the teacher for help (in Japanese, I might add) and he just walked away, out of the room, and down the hall, leaving me to try and figure out how the hell I was going to get away from this mob. Even as I slowly started to push my way to the door, the kept me surrounding, pressing against each other to try and get a feel of my hands. I honestly became worried that one in the front would fall, and those behind would just trample him trying to get closer. Eventually, a small hole formed, and I ran out of there faster than I’ve ever run in my life.
I have a third grade class in about five minutes. I’m honestly thinking of escaping through a window.
I’ve been here a week, and so far, I’ve only been anally violated once and groped twice. While anyone would agree that being anally violated by a 2nd grader is a bad thing, I find comfort in the fact that it only happened once in one week. That’s not to say, though, that other strange things haven’t been happening to me.
Take today, for instance. In case you never noticed, I have a birthmark on the back of my right wrist. If you never noticed, well, then, you’re not a very good friend, are you. Regardless, it’s there, and one little kid in the second grade happened to notice it as I was trying to leave the classroom. He bolts at me and grabs my arm. He then holds my wrist up to his face, and for a moment I was afraid he was about to bite me. Thankfully, all he did was stare at my birthmark for a few minutes. While that’s kinda weird, I’ve faced weirder, and so was willing to let it go for another few seconds.
Then, he sniffed my wrist.
I’m not talking trying to get a minor little whiff of what my arm smells like. Rather, he moved my wrist right up next to his nose and inhaled as powerfully as he could. I could feel the hairs on my arm entering his nostrils. Whatever the reason, whatever he smelled, he must have liked it, because he let out a mighty “YATTA!” and promptly ran back to his seat. I left bewildered.
Later today, I found out what it felt like to be Jesus. After yet another 2nd grade class, for some unknown reason, the little bastards swarmed me. 30 of the kids just ran straight at me, and I was backed into the chalkboard. Then, they all started reaching up, trying to touch my hands. I have no idea why they wanted to touch my hands, but they did. It was as if they were begging me to heal them from some sort of affliction. I mean, I do kind of look at them as if they’re lepers, but I haven’t noticed any pieces of them falling off.
Regardless, none of them would stop reaching up to touch me, even after they got a good grasp of one of my fingers, or my wrist. I yelled out to the teacher for help (in Japanese, I might add) and he just walked away, out of the room, and down the hall, leaving me to try and figure out how the hell I was going to get away from this mob. Even as I slowly started to push my way to the door, the kept me surrounding, pressing against each other to try and get a feel of my hands. I honestly became worried that one in the front would fall, and those behind would just trample him trying to get closer. Eventually, a small hole formed, and I ran out of there faster than I’ve ever run in my life.
I have a third grade class in about five minutes. I’m honestly thinking of escaping through a window.
posted by S A B at 12:00 AM
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