Act 9: Locker Time

“I can’t get my locker opened!” I was yelling at the end of one day in 8th grade. I tried the combination over and over again; going slowly to make sure I got it right.

I was really annoyed because whatever I did, it wouldn’t open and I was going to miss my bus. “Come on! Open!” I was yelling because a teacher looked like they were going to come over and make me go back in the class because they had a stupid rule that you couldn’t hang out in the hall. The teacher backed off when they realized my locker was jammed.

I saw a janitor coming down the hall pushing a rolling garbage thing and laughed to my self because the janitors were all stupid. I tried to do the combination again and it didn’t work again. I hit the locker and yelled at it. “OPEN!”

“Need some help!?” The janitor said in his stupid hillbilly voice. I turned around and he was holding the locker key that opened all the lockers. It was hanging off of about 200 other keys. I wondered ‘Why do janitors always have so many keys? You can hear them coming from a mile away.’ But that’s another story.

He stuck the key into the locker and it miraculously opened. I looked in about to pull out my book bag. “This isn’t my stuff!” I said, as the janitor walked away. “Wait a minute. This isn’t my locker!” I yelled. I closed the locker and opened my own. I saw a teacher laughing at me as I got all my stuff. I felt as dumb as a janitor. Ever since then I kept a stupid picture of a road sign with a cow falling off a cliff onto a car that said “Watch for Falling Cows” on my locker so I would know which was mine.