And I guess, before I could stop myself, I dumped a carton of TrooMoo Chocolate milk all over her pretty blonde hair. The screech was unbelievable. I laughed, covering my mouth with both hands as I jumped back. She lept up from her chair faster than lightning and turned to face me. Her eyebrows were knit. Her finger was pointed. Her boyfriend was... giggling? He'd pay for that.

"YOU BITCH!" she screamed. If the screech hadn't gotten everyone's attention, that certainly did. Eight hundred eyes drilled straight at us. Nobody moved. Nobody blinked.

"Oopsie," I said, faking a cutsey smile and mocking the tone she'd used on me only the previous day. "I'm so sorry Hannah, hope your blazer can be salvaged! Although, I don't know anything about fashion, right?"

"How immature are you!?" she growled. I'm not even exaggerating. It was freaky. "You're like a fucking five year old!"

And here is where I do something that makes me blush now. First, I stared at her dumbly- no expression, like herp derp. Then I looked down at my breasts, cupped them, and jiggled them around. They aren't impressive or anything, but hell, they're there.

"I don't know any five year old with jugs like these," I said, giggling a little at the humor that is my life. I got a cat call.

"More like milk cartons," she hissed. First she growls, then she hisses. This bitch is crazy.

"Ooooooooh!" the entire audience that is the cafeteria drones out. Obviously they are entertained here.

"Well you would certainly know about milk cartons, just look at your hair!" I smirked.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

"Don't you dare-"

"Or what!? You just got your royal thong in a twist because your schmexy boyfriend is seeing you looking like shit. You're mad that for the first time some one is pushing your cute little touche off your fucking pedestule..." I rant on.

"Why would I care about any of that shit? Everybody loves me. Atleast I'm not a phonie emo little lesbian who isn't smart enough to match her socks and cut her hair with safety scissors," she said. Ouch. That hurt.

"I'm a phonie emo little lesbian, huh? Well I'll tell you one thing. I'm not a phonie because I'm not trying to prove anything. And as for emo? I'm not one to harm myself, miss throw up your food to lose weight." she gasped. I smirked. "That's right. I know about that. In fact, I have pictures,"

"YOU FREAK!" she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why are you doing this to me!?"

"Funny," I called out. And this was going to be funny. "That's the same thing you MOANED last Saturday in my bed, wasn't it Hannah!?"

The cafeteria gasped, then roared with laughter. I chuckled despite myself.

Hannah lunged at me. Her nails were long, and they were aimed right at my face. I could have taken her down right there, but I didn't exactly want to fight. First, it might mess up my eyeliner. Second, it would get me in ten times more trouble then I was now. So she lunged, I ducked, and she crashed to the floor. Hands behind my back, chin up, I skipped away whisteling, until someone's gruff hand grabbed my arm. I looked innocently at the giant man who'd taken me prisoner, as he picked Hannah up off the floor and dragged us out of the cafeteria.

Well, he tried at first. My struggling and escape attempts were outmatched by his sheer stregnth. Without the slightest bit of effort he lifted my 120 pound, 5'7" body off the ground and over his shoulder.

I must admit, I felt awful rediculous with my rear end up in the air like that, but still managed to enjoy the ride. Hannah glared at me, the principal's huge hand gripping her tiny wrist. I smiled like a cheshire and waved.

!

If you're wondering what the hell this is... I guess it's my revenge. I'm a punk, to put it simply. I'm not "emo" or "goth" or "scene" or whatever other label you want to give me. I'm just another punk as teenager who hates mean people who think they're oh so special and all that. So basically, my hatred is mostly for preps and jocks.

Sophmore in high school. I'm going to be writing one of these every time someone from that fucking school pisses me off a bit too much. It is what keeps me from running in there and shooting them all.

I will write one of these. ANd I will enjoy it. YOu can read if you want, or not. It's really just for my own enjoyment. Maybe I'll write enough to form a book... but probably not.

For now I'm calling it "The True Mooers" probably because one of my biggest fantasies is dumping a nice carton of true moo chocolate milk all over that preppy assed Hannah's head. Oh the evil grins :)

So "True Mooers" are the kids who don't fit it, who don't want to fit in, who speak there mind, and who just do their own thing. Basically me and a few choice friends. {They would probably not like it if they knew I called them that} but wtf does it matter. so yes, enjoy these. I'm going to be. I'll post more with time. chaio!

-GothicToeLicker