» School Naughtiness

I might've killed a dinner lady
Sorry to post twice but I'd forgotten about the time I might've killed a dinner lady. It's a short story luckily.
We'd been playing footy with jumpers for goalposts at junior school. I leathered the ball as hard as I could just inside the post to score. Unfortunately, the plastic pocketed lady in question had been overseeing a game of "elastics" behind the goal. The ball struck her anus like a rebel alliance proton torpedo not going in and impacting on the surface. She had to go home immediately afterwards. Two days later it was announced in assembly that she would not come back as she was dead. Obviously I don't know if my actions played a part in her death, it could be that my ill fated strike had shifted some kind of arse clot causing a fatal embolus. I've had to live with the guilt so long I'd pretty much forgotten it. Still, one less dinnerlady for my mate Pete to pull.
(Sat 10th Sep 2011, 21:52, More)

» School Naughtiness

idiot boy
I suppose it was cracking my english and drama teacher in the eye after he'd grabbed me around the throat whilst in the 3rd year.

I never wanted to be in trouble, but it always seemed to find me.

We'd finished a drama "lesson" being trees or some other such crud when I found that someone had spat in my shoe. For once in my school life I told teacher (I was angry and wanted to find the cock that had spat in what was definately the wrong shoe. Not that I was tough or a bully, just unhinged.) The aptly named Mr Bell seemed disinterested mainly because he hated me.

When I pointed out that if it had been Giles Rowland's shoe (one of the swotty kids) he'd have made us stay behind to find out who it was, he actually agreed.

Well this pressed my "mentalist" button and I hurled the shoe over my shoulder towards the rest of the class without looking. As it flew towards my classmates, I turned to see where it would land. In that moment time slowed down, I could hear the "whump, whump" of the shoe turning end over end as it sailed toward its inevitable destination. The probable outcome of this action began to crystallize in my mind as it walloped into the face of Giles Rowland no less.

My teachers face warped into a rictus of pure rage at the sight of footwear clobbering his beloved Giles's mush. He glared at me; his chubby, bespectacled cheeks flushed with anger (nickname: Penfold. He of dangermouse fame.) In his paroxysm of ire he began to assault me, a 13 or 14 year old boy. I'm guessing he was a violence virgin but instinct made him grab for my throat. As I'd alluded to earlier, I was slightly not right in the heed. He discovered his mistake when the little lad in front of him, powered by some deadly red mist crushed his wrist strengthened only by pen and vinegar strokes. This forced him to release me. His ill judged lurch was then countered by a right hook to the left eye socket which sent him reeling.

When he tried to address the upper school in assembly the next day, sporting a shiner, apparently they all chanted my name till he left the stage. I think I gained a bit of kudos from that. Other highlights included throwing a pencil case and chair at a maths teacher. Smashing various windows. Being summoned to the headmasters office to be expelled only to tell him I'd just had a county trial for rugby on the wing at which point he backtracked.

I also gained so many detentions, they ran out of days for me to actually attend them.

Back then I was diagnosed dyslexic. It was later that I discovered I was actually adhd which explained a lot. Including my ability to play countdown.
(Sat 10th Sep 2011, 21:12, More)