The friend, my revenge, a bike and the minibus...
...could be a long one but here goes.

I went to a school where taking a few knocks and taking the piss were the daily grind. It's all in the past now but at the time, if someone did something bad to you then revenge had to be had sooner rather than later.

We reached year 11 (aged 16) and the PE dept had decided we were finally mature enough to not always do cross country in the rain etc and, in small groups, activities off the premises were organised. These included basic golf lessons at a nearby club and, of significance to this story, canoe lessons at the "aquadrome" about 12 miles away.

For reasons now beyond me my "best friend" (who was in retrospect always a bit of a cunt to me) decided that we had to get some pointless revenge on another lad in our class. Both my mate, Michael, and the other lad were in the canoe group so spent Wednesday afternoons travelling to and from the aquadrome in the minibus driven by a PE teacher who quite frankly must have been kicked out of the army for unnecessary shouting.

In my good boy mindset the revenge we stupidly, and rather lamely, came up with was to write a number of offensive signs/notices about this lad. The plan being that I would bunk off PE for the afternoon, cycle to the aquadrome and affix them to the fences/bridge on the way out for all on the bus to see.

We reached D-day and my day didn't really go to plan. Michael, being the twat he was, released a similar plan on me but on a much nastier scale. He wrote some offensive crap about me buggering cats or similar and slipped it into the school noticeboard which were those old enclosed type with a locked glass front. By the time I heard about it half the school had already seen it. You can imagine my state of mind to find everywhere I went the majority of 1200 nasty little kids taunting me. Turns out the caretaker was away for the day and had the only keys for the noticeboard. I was less than pleased.

In my head, revenge was to be swift. I destroyed the original posters for that afternoons plan and remade them bearing Michaels name instead.

A "get out of PE" note from the parents was duly faked and I got a friend to hand it in. I hopped on my rode the 12 miles to the aquadrome. I affixed my posters everywhere and went to take shelter. Assured the minibus was always left the aquadrome by 3:15pm in order to be back at school in time I sat and waited away from the crime scene.

For reasons beyond me in my head the "right" thing to do was to take the posters down after they had served their purpose. So at 3:20pm I rode my bike up the drive of the aquadrome, around the corner only to come face to face with the minibus, 15 teenagers and a bemused looking PE teacher blocking the road.

He glared at me and bellowed at me to "take these posters down right now!". Instinct kicked in and I rode my bike full pelt across the bridge toward the group. My right arm outstretched in one sweep I ripped a row of a dozen posters down barely slowing my speed. The crumpled paper tucked under my arm I heard the bald headed bastard behind me bellow to "Get over here right now!". I decided that wasn't gonna be in my best interests.... so in one deft manouvre I turned the bike sharply, down an embankment and onto the canal towpath where I pushed the bike as hard as I could and left the group standing on the bridge watching me dissappear into the distance.

This must have been like a red rag to a bull for him. He knew I hated PE, I wasn't on any teams and never did well in any sport I was forced to endure. Ironically if they'd ever had a cycling choice for PE he'd have found the one thing I did enjoy.

I'd already clocked up about 3 miles when I approached a road bridge, still on the canal path beneath it, and the school minibus crossed the bridge complete with pointing gawping teenagers on board. "Oh shit" I thought when I realised he was heading back to school at full pelt presumeably to phone my parents or tell the headteacher etc. The only thing that seemed to make sense to me was to get there first. And so, my 16 year old legs set about the fastest most intense bike minibus race the world has ever seen... probably.

I thrashed along the canal knowing it was shorter than the road, at least as far as the town. Periodically the path and roads would pass within sight of one another and I could check progress, it seems I wasn't the only one keeping tabs on what was happening. Back at school, my absence had been noted as well as that days activities.

When I reached the library at the top of the town I saw the minibus begin around the one way system, I however went for it down the pedestrianised high street. Shoppers scattered as I pedalled for all my worth down the street. By the time I reached the other end of the high street a mile later I was ahead of the minibus which sat waiting at the traffic lights.

Traffic lights! I had my allie in this war of motor against man. Transferring the pavement I reached out and hit the button of every pedestrian crossing I passed, setting off a wave of red lights in my wake to slow up the minibus as best I could.

In the final mile the hill climb was exhausting, but to my benefit the minibus had to go around the back of the school to drive in the gate, while I went through pedestrian gate. I dumped my bike and headed for the PE changing room where I was supposed to be.... but I never made it. To my credit I'd just cycled 12 miles as fast as a minibus could do it, better any feat I'd managed in 5 years of forced PE lessons.

On the final run to the PE changing room the deputy head saw me and stopped me in my tracks. This was someone you didn't run from. I stood in silence save for my heavy breathing of exhaustion. My silent gaze of terror returned by a look of purpose from the deputy head. Just then the PE teacher and the gaggled group of teenagers in tow came into view. "Ah good! You got him then" he said to the deputy head. He began to explain my crimes to the deputy who deftly interrupted "It's ok, I'll handle this" and with that I was walked to the deputys office.

I feared the worst at this point. I knew I was in trouble. Thing was I was a good boy really, a swot if anything.
The deputy looked me in the eye and spoke.
"I've got this note here, but it's obviously a fake.
I know you bunked off this afternoon.
I know where you went and what you did.

However one of the girls came and told me what happened today, so I also know why you did it.

Don't let it happen again and I suggest this is the last time we mention it. You can go home now. I'll deal with the PE dept.".

So with utter bewilderment I left and went home.

To this day I have no idea who told the truth on my behalf but I wish I could thank them.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 18:05, Reply)