Before You Read “The Story of One High School Day”

“The Story of One High School Day” was written when I went to school one day and discovered annoying things in every class. When I came home, I sat at my computer and wrote about most everything that someone would find funny if I over exaggerated on it. I received only a small bit of trouble when writing this piece and I called my friend Dan up to see what would be something he would normally say at random. This piece is one of my best because it makes people laugh, something I do not feel like I do very well. This is also why it stands out from my other pieces because they tend to be more serious and this was loose and outgoing.

The Story of One High School Day

I could tell it was going to be a bad day when it sounded like a fire truck’s siren blaring in my room. I bolted up out of my bed ready to jump out the window, which could have been five stories from the ground. I opened my eyes and realized that it was just my alarm clock, the numbers glared at me on the headboard. I whipped open my dresser drawer and grabbed the first thing I saw, and put on a pair of jeans from yesterday since I did not feel like opening my closet. It was barely six o’clock and I had to fight from falling asleep when I walked into the kitchen. The sound of the shower could be heard from the bathroom; my little brother was washing his very short hair even though he took a shower at ten last night. Those crazy freshmen boys. I brushed my teeth with the water that tasted of pure iron and brushed my hair. I left the house with nothing in my stomach since I didn’t have time to eat as usual. I refused to lose sleep for something as disgusting as breakfast foods.

It soon came time when I had to leave the safety of my own warm house. I stepped out into the land of the frozen tundra. It was pitch black, which meant I could not see if there was ice on the ground; I would probably slip and die a horrible death without even realizing what happened. I managed to glide to the end of my driveway where, through the darkness, I could see the obscenely yellow-colored bus emitting a thick “gaseous” smog. As soon as its gates opened, I could hear the wild sixth, seventh, and eighth grade children screaming their heads off while whipping out their new Ipods and cell phones, playing annoying ring tones and music. It smelled like over-fried corndogs at the zoo. Putting on my headphones, I sat next to one of the middle-schoolers who I secretly thought had semi-cool hair.

Eventually, I got off of the Hell Transit Bus and made my journey inside the building where I prayed it would be warmer. As usual, I was let down and discovered that even with my warm coat on, I was probably going to experience hypothermia before lunch time swung around. Whoever said Hell could not freeze over lied. Big time. After dumping my books into my locker, I slammed the rust-covered door and it rattled shut. I walked into the commons where several students were already huddling for warmth in their separate clichés. I stood in the long breakfast line, waiting for the metal divider to lift up. It was still way too early in the morning. I picked up something that looked like urine in a plastic cup with tinfoil on the top. The cashier lady said it was apple juice, but they also told me the chunky white stuff in the carton was milk… then again, who was I to disagree? I purchased the tiny cup containing the mysterious substance and had to whip out my credit card to pay the bill it was so big.

I sat doing pre-calculus homework and chatting to Dan as the school clock ticked my life away. Jumping up onto the table he screamed, “Alocusomagbanphepantotemphemothisor!!!” Being a combination of English, Greek, and Latin, it was the most beautiful word known to man. People in the background could be heard yelling, “Shut the hell up!” but I was beaming inside. Not even Jesus could force me to smile this much, even if he had taken me to Hot Topic. Soon enough the bell rang and slavery for the day was about to begin.

I walked into my first hour, not too bad, except when listening to one particular mutant who had its Compact Disk player blaring Panic! At the Disco’s music. That so-called creature was named Obnoxious Suicide, though I cannot quite be sure why. At least I had a few things to look forward to that hour, like making small talk about the big world with Ehainius and Amarcottia. They were two good friends I was glad to have because they prevented me from going crazy when Tragic Emo walked into the classroom, another annoying person with a she-mullet who complained about how horrible her life was non-stop.

Thankfully, second hour swung around and I was taught about how the triceratops discovered trigonometry and befriended Cone-an and Pythagorean who later developed a theorem. Who would have ever thought of such an excellent story? The Egyptians may have been genius, but they did not compare to Lisamakius, one of the greatest known mathematicians of second hour’s time. One could not keep up with the amount of homework assigned or the weekly tests, but as long as we passed the exam we were fine. Sadly, that seemed unlikely for many.

A glorious bell chimed and I ran to orchestra class in F-section. Always late and never early, I entered the room where attendance did not matter and I did not care, although I never missed a day. Brett Razor greeted me as I sat down in my chair and we started talking about the Volcano Worshippers club I was going to start next year. Alice waved to me and ran over without her viola. Dressed in all black, she was the highlight of my day, her face glowed with excitement. “That woman isn’t here today!” She screamed. I looked to see a substitute teacher sitting at the piano preparing to take attendance. I was not going to band class today; I was most definitely only an orchestra student. We all laughed whole-heartedly and talked about our class trip to Chicago coming up. This was much better than pretending to know how to play violin.

School was let out for lunch too soon for once and Brett Razor departed with Alice and I. We walked around talking about custom-made pins she was making at her house to raise money for our Chicago adventure. I said hello to several people that walked by in the hallway and eventually, I left Alice to go sit with my cousin’s friends. Dan was screaming “Shoop da Whoop!” when I walked over to the table and Steven was burping in a disgusting manner. I sat next to Clyde, making Greg move over and Rhina greeted me with a hug. Clyde sat silently with an evil grin on his face, which drastically needed to be shaved. He sat there every day at lunch without saying anything unless someone talked to him about video games.

The bell sang its sorrowful song as lunch ended and I walked Dan into the worst Hell imaginable. Rabititus’ class was the worst torture one could imagine. The Jews would run back to Hitler over her. Fortunately, I was blessed with an Accelerated English class during my many years of high school and did not have to withstand the pain of regular English, which I am pretty sure she insisted calling “Regular American.” I walked to my English classroom, the one hour I looked forward to during the day, and took my seat next to one of my friends. We were given a new book that we had to read by Thursday and I prayed to God it was not written by Maya Angelou. She wrote “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” a long story no one wanted to read. It was about how stupid she was as a person and still is for writing a book about it. She thought she was a lesbian so she got pregnant as a teenager and had a child. I like to burn copies of the book in my spare time.

Fifth hour to me was one of the worst classes I have ever had. I dreaded coming to it every day. James UnGrand “taught” American Government and although he might know who the president of the United States is, it is not helping his teaching methods. Day after day we have quiz after quiz with no homework or extra credit and Emma looks over my shoulder for all the answers while I look to see what she already has put down. Miraculously, although we always had the same multiple choice responses, I was getting an eighty-seven percent in the class and she was receiving a B-. God must work mighty wonders on Powerschool when no one is looking.

Sixth hour was another class I did not look forward to. It was before Davey S. was kicked out. Every day some idiot asked to turn on the television, which only meant one thing: country music. I brought my headphones to class and played my music while I typed the fastest I could so I could sit back and relax later. I always finished first and the crazy “teacher” always tried to make conversation with me. I made dead-end comments that were usually two-syllables or shorter. The only good thing about intro to computers level one is that it is the last class of the day.

I ran out of the class and said hi to one of the freshmen boys in the hallway. We only say hi to each other, never anything else, but I made him a Christmas card this year. Rhina talks to him and she said he loved it. I pushed through a swarm of guppies and swam through the people over to my locker. I fumbled with the orange lock before I finally cracked the code and opened the door that was to hold the secret awaiting me inside. I found my hat and gloves while putting on my fur coat and took out my Pre-Calc book. I ran outside to the bus that smelled like the same one I rode earlier today. In the back sat annoying junior high cheerleaders who tried to look beautiful, but they failed miserably. I couldn’t wait until I got home, and when I did, I would throw my schoolwork in a dark corner where I would hopefully forget about it. Sadly, I was a good girl and forced to attend a public school so I always did my work. One day I would get a nice scholarship and would go to college, then I could start working on my plan to take over the world. If George Bush could manage to become president, then it is very likely I can pull off this masquerade.