You’re ten years old and you’re goofing off in math class like always. Your teacher asks you to be quiet and sit down. You do for a minute, but then you forget what she said and you start talking again. Then your teacher tells you to shut up and keep your butt in the chair. You do for a minute, but then you throw a wad of paper at Jimmy. She sees you do it and she yells, warning you not to pull any more shenanigans or else she’ll send you to the principal’s office. But the word shenanigans gets you all excited and you try to get away with shooting Jimmy with a spitball, but you miss and hit Stacy. Stacy tells on you instantly and then your teacher screams at you to go to the principal’s office. That’s when you know that you’re in trouble. The trek to the principal’s office is the longest walk of your life. You feel like you’re walking towards the electric chair. Escape is impossible. You’re going to have to explain to him why you were disruptive and interrupting class. You could be suspended, or even worse, expelled. He might even call your mom. I used to get sent to the principal’s office fairly often. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I was a troublemaker. Who am I kidding? I’m still a troublemaker, only now there’s no principal to reprimand me anymore. Instead I only have to worry about the cops if I do something bad. At least they won’t call my mom.
Critically Rated at 4/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
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