Poor, poor Tracey and her fruit-based woe
Another tale from my mis-spent youth, this time from the age of fifteen, in a crowded school classroom.

It's the end of the school day, and we wait for "Donkey" Delaney to come along, tick off our names in the register and dismiss us for the afternoon. It is a Friday, we are so excite, because tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes after...wards. Conversation is, as you'd expect, quite animated.

Then, Donkey Delaney walks through the door - typical physics teacher, all dandruff, arms, legs and a neck that looks like a piece of string with a knot tied in the middle. The class falls silent.

All except for Tracey. Poor, poor Tracey with her pneumatic, hypnotic chest and the conversation killer to end them all:

"Well, I prefer a banana because it's got just the right curve on it."

Monday came, and her desk was piled high with bananas. Tuesday came, and there was a new school rule.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 12 May 2011, 13:03, Reply)