|The Horror of My School's Lunches
Author: Alex Rashid PM
The food is horrible, the lunch ladies are really strict. Not much else to say here...Rated: Fiction K - English - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,983 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 01-27-12 - id: 2992063
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I forgot to add the hot dog to the previous chapter. I can't edit in HTML mode…so I'll add it on to here.
The Hot Dog
So, some kid dropped his lunch one day, and the hot dog bounced, like, 1 foot in the air! Also, our hot dogs are about 1 foot long, and they give us normal sized buns. XD It's really funny to see tiny 1st graders trying to eat a hot dog that's bigger than their face. In a tiny bun…..
A/N: So, now that that's out of the way….I present to you….My friend's rant about the lunch monitors. She is actually also on the site, as Tori-Color-Bastia. But, most of her work is on Fanfiction. Search her, she will appreciate it! (And yes, you are welcome for the free advertising….XD)
"At our elementary school, there were these people who called themselves lunch monitors who seemed to take joy in skulking around the cafeteria watching for any remotely joyful behavior. Their favorite victim is of course, yours truly. I'm a nice girl, good grades, funny, and unique, but I just emit this aura that says "I am trouble" to sulky lunch monitors. To add insult to injury, these were also the people who dole out punishment at recess.
It all started in second grade when I started toting a miniature stuffed tiger, Hobbes, around in my pocket. He was no larger than my hand and was never causing any trouble for myself or the other children. I took him out once to show to a couple of my friends at the exact wrong moment to do anything other than eating. The moment when the lunch monitor passes right by your table and looks at you with the eyes of grr. Said monitor put out her hand. I looked at her like "WTF?" (Only I was in second grade, so it was more like "What the Helsinki?") And she grunted in a caveman-like tone "You're tiger. You'll get him back after lunch." I looked at her with my I-am-an-adorable-puppy eyes and she COMPLETELY ignored me.
I got him back, but I was branded a troublemaker ever since.
In third grade, we had just gone into the new playground, which was a HUGE milestone at our school, and still were a little fuzzy on the rules and boundaries. One of THE most ludicrous boundaries was a telephone pole in the exact middle of the field where we often played. This pole apparently cast and invisible force field that we were forbidden to cross. Naturally, a friend of mine decided to make the telephone pole into the Boundary into Terebithia. We were having a ton of fun when the monitors stopped us and gave us a stern talking-to about how the telephone pole was actually where school property ends. It was obvious that they were lying! We were in third grade, we weren't idiots! Did we honestly come off as that naive?
Then, in fourth grade, I was hanging around with that same friend of mine and my then boyfriend. Like we are at all recesses, we were bored out of our minds, so we decided to play a pretend game. I know, eleven is a little old to "play pretend," but it was more like LARPing cause we're that boss. We decided that one of our adventures (slaying the sea serpent that had been terrorizing the town of Faerie Tayl with flood and drought), would require going to the creek that runs through our school property. We were completely in the zone and my character, after transforming into a tiger, hand just helped slay the beast when we were called out to the hill for another stern talking-to. My friends got off the hook, but guess who had to stay in for five minutes at recess for "playing with sticks" and "disrupting the creek ecosystem"? I'll give you a hint. Her screen initials are TCB, she is a Coldplayer, a Near fan girl, and LOVES to read yaoi.
Fifth grade was supposed to be better, but it wasn't. My group of friends had migrated from the rock in the field to the swings. We had contests to see who could jump off the highest, go the farthest, do the coolest tricks, etc. A common pastime for the oh-so-macho boys of our school was Road Kill, a game where you dash in between the swings and try not to get kicked. Dear Lord Kira, it was a BLAST! The rush of narrowly dodging your crush, the wind coming off of the school bully's swing, the adrenaline of almost kicking that boy who treats gym like the Olympics, I loved it all. It was the one time where there weren't "geeks" and "jocks", but just "Killers" and "Runners." That was, of course, until the game was banned. No one got hurt, but everyone who played got a stern talking-to from the monitors. Later in the year, I got caught participating in a swing competition and had to write a "Think Sheet" about what I did wrong, how I could hurt others feelings, etc. Those things are designed for Kindergartners who mimic a racial slur they heard on television or freak out and punch someone, not fifth-graders who are just trying to participate in a jumping competition with a few possible friends. It's thanks to them I'm the lonely otaku in the corner!
Sixth grade, a little better, but I started "acting up" at lunch again. My two friends and I got bored after we finished our lunch and the monitor, who was dominating the microphone, was giving as a Hannibal Lecture about how loud we are, how rowdy we are, how if this continues we could get in so much trouble, how we, the sixth graders, were the oldest kids in school and how we needed to set a good example for the younger kids, and how- "wait are you TALKING while I'm talking! Shut up! I'm at the mic, I don't talk while you talk, you should RESPECT me!" And, as the speech lasted about ten minutes, my friends and I sat at our table, not allowed to get up because otherwise we'd be sent to the principal's office for "disrespecting the teachers." What happens when three bored, "troublemaking" sixth graders are chained to their table, unable to leave due to the ramblings of a witch, with Styrofoam trays sitting in front of them? That's right, STYROFOAM FIGHT! And it was a blast. Unfortunately, it's also "disrespectful" to throw shredded bits of lunch trays at your friends while a boring-as-hell monitor is slowly Hannibal-ing you to death. We got a stern talking-to AND were forced to stay inside for all of recess.
In conclusion, Monitor Lizards=good. Lunch monitors=bad."
That was her rant, now here is mine.
Our lunch monitors thought we were "acting up" in 6th grade, so they came up with this "brilliant" idea. Tickets. The basic concept was that if you talked while they were giving their speech about how horrible we are (for the record, I felt bad for the 2nd graders who had to listen to them lecture us). The first day they announced that, several kids moaned loudly, and you know what? They got tickets, and were "punished accordingly" by their teachers.
My friend was telling me how when the monitors were giving their speech, she yawned (and keep in mind you can't help yawning) and she got a ticket.
So, the monitor was lecturing us one bright and sunny and somehow depressing lunch time, about how "When I ring this bell, you are not to talk, you are not to whisper, you are not to giggle…or you will get a ticket…you need to set an example…to the 2nd graders…they take after you."
And I whispered to my friends, "They didn't say we can't dance." So we started to wiggle our arms around in the stereotypical dance teens do. Then, one of the monitors happened to be stalking right by our table. And my friends and I got tickets. I said, "You never said we can't dance."
And the next day, the lunch monitor added no dancing to the speech.
A/N: That is the end of my rant. More to come! I hope you like this rant/story so far!