High School For Dummies

[ChuckCuningham]

Just some funny stories I have been putting together, written as if they were journal entries from a high shcool student.

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Well the summer is officially over. I don’t need a calendar to tell me that, OH NO. The simple fact that I am writing this drivel for you Miss Jones and not living free as God intended is a clear indication that the heady days of summer are at an end. I know for a fact you are not going to read this Miss Jones. You are not going to read one single word of this. You will just look at the filled notebook at the end of the year to verify that your sentence has been carried out and that I am eligible to be promoted through this monkey farm that you call a school.

Also, Miss Jones, I think you need to review the school handbook about responsible attire for class. I do hope you know that faculty as well as students are to follow these guidelines. In the Faculty/Student Handbook 2005-2006 Sec 5 Dress Code paragraph 12 clearly states that flip flops are now forbidden during the school day. Now I know what you are thinking Miss Jones (I have known you less than a week, but I can read you like a book) that you never wore flip flops to class. While that is true per se, you routinely remove your entire footwear and go around in your stocking feet. I know you are aware (how could you not be) of the foot odor problem that you have. Since you have seen fit to assign seats to us (like we were four years old), I am forced to sit in the front row. I am overwhelmed during the entire class with the smell of corn chips and cheese whiz. If cooler days do not come soon to force you to put those monstrosities under wraps, I am going to vomit all over you during class, which is a clear violation of Sec 38 paragraph 32 of the Faculty/Student Handbook 2005-2006.

Also, a great big thanks for assigning Hamlet so we have to read that over our first weekend back at school. Wasn’t the fact that we have to get up early and in bed early and give over our entire day enough of a shock to our systems? You won’t have to worry about where to put that teacher of the year trophy this year Miss Jones. You however seem to be unaware that Mel Gibson was in the movie Hamlet. Yes that’s right Miss Jones, Mel (Lethal Weapon, Braveheart) Gibson plays Hamlet. One quick trip to the movie store and BAM, I am a free man. The internet, videos, and satellite TV have rendered all your assignments impotent. Very soon we will all be able to attend class from our computer at home at our leisure wearing our flip flops and tee shirts with mildly inappropriate messages. The teacher will be a LA bombshell with long blond hair and not a short, middle aged hobbit with stinky feet.

Now that I have amassed enough sentences on the page to fool you into thinking I have done my assignment, it is off to the video store to grab that Mel Gibson video. I two short hours your assignment will be done while I watch Mad Max Mel slice his way through those English pasties and win the heart of the girl (who will be so gorgeous that it will be worth the price of the rental). You lose Miss Jones and I win. You should start to get used to it, because it is going to be a long year for us both.

 

[ChuckCuningham]

Well Miss Jones, you will be happy to note that the Mel Gibson version of Hamlet was a major bust. I wonder if Mel was having some monetary problems at the time, because that would be the only explanation for that video version of a groin shot. It was apparent almost immediately that the only thing worse than having to read that archaic English gibber gabber was listening to people speaking that archaic English gibber gabber.

The movie was so incredibly boring that it was like being given sodium pentothal. If hospitals every run short. They should just drop this gem into the DVD player and set the patient down to watch. You could easily remove a spleen with the comatose brought on by just five short minutes of the film. I had to keep jamming my finger into the wall socket every twenty minutes just to make it through the whole thing.

Now we are having a test on Hamlet which is highly inappropriate since this is only the second week of school Miss Jones. Well I am now committed to the video route since there is no way I can read that before the test. So Miss Jones if you suddenly notice I have developed a lazy eye due to the repeated electrical shocks, you should take heart an know that I am studying hard. Yes, Miss Jones, your assignments are in fact killing me. Does this give you pleasure? Have you nothing left to provide you any degree of enjoyment other than breaking the will of young minds?

I will not be beaten so easily Miss Jones. My friend Johnny whose brother was in your class last year has an answer key to your little test. Hah! That’s right Miss Jones by the time you read this it will be to late and I will be basking in the warmth of my perfect score and safely out of your reach in the junior class. If all else fails. I think that if I can somehow get you to walk by the principles office with you shoes off, he will think there is some kind of gas leak in the building and evacuate the school.

Its called soap and water Miss Jones. Please try using it on those feet for the sake of us all. For the love of God show some mercy.

 

[ChuckCuningham]

Well Miss Jones, you are my Lex Luther. I can understand on some level why you changed the test rendering the answer key from last year useless. However, creating the test in such a way as to have all those who studied it get a grade of 4 was just pure evil.

They way you smiled when you asked all the students who received a grade of 4 on the test to stay after class was pure evil genius. I mean how much of a psychotic witch do you have to be to structure your test to smoke out those that would stand in opposition to your will.

Also, I hope you don’t think the signature of my dad on the test is real. I have been forging his name for years and I am not going to stop now for you Miss Jones. Since you saw fit to give us all a month of detention after school, I had to tell my parents that I am trying out for the baseball team. Do you have any clue how many times I have to run around the block before I go home to have the proper amount of sweat to keep up this charade. I know that you can work up quite a lather just walking around the classroom, but for us humans we have to actually work at it.

I am now investigating the practice of voodoo. Yes Miss Jones, I have now been forced to seek recompense in another religion. If you suddenly start having excruciating back pain then you will know that I have been successful.

I am having the joy of writing this in the first of the many detention classes that you have been so kind to give me. Yet I will not give myself over to your madness. I will rage, rage, rage against the machine. I will climb to the mountain top where I can look down on you safely out of range of your foot miasma.

I will not fall into the same trap with the current assignment of “A Separate Peace”. No I will not go the video route this time. I now understand that the subject matter that you have us read renders even the most talented entertainer helpless. Therefore it is time that I take it up a notch with a little something called the internet. Yes Miss Jones, I have not given up my struggle against your classroom tyranny. How it must gall you to know that we have access to all that we need to foul up your plans.

In the words of a great revolutionary general, “I have not yet begun to fight”. We will see who stands victorious at the end.

 

[ChuckCuningham]

Well Miss Jones, things have defiantly taken a turn for the worse. After such a complete failure on the Hamlet test, I knew that I would have to do much better in my other classes to offset that debacle. Opportunity presented itself in the form of an extra credit science project for Mr. Adams class.

Doug, Ron and I decided to raise our average an have a little fun in the process. We decided to build our own version of a rocket. I am not talking about some wimpy firecracker motor rocket. No, this is a metal, liquid fuel, low earth orbit missile.

It was all planned out. I was to get the plans, Doug whose dad is a pilot was going to get actual jet fuel, Ron was going to get the needed parts for the body. Everything was coming together nicely. I found some great plans on the Anarchist web site and we all met at my house to put this baby together.

We had put the rocket together and man were we ever proud of it. There in my garage was a 2 and a half foot “silver bullet” (that’s what we named it) with enough jet fuel in it to put it in space and thanks to a late edition from Ron who swiped his dad’s GPS, a nearly perfect recovery system. We were basking in our success when Doug decided to have a cigarette. I personally thought he was far enough away from the rocket to be safe. Well apparently we had spilled just a little of the jet fuel when we were fueling the thing and fire raced at an amazing speed directly to our “silver bullet”.

Of course the rocket was not set up for launch and was laying on its side which turned out to be unfortunate. There was an amazingly loud whistling sound, kind of like the sound you hear on war movies right before someone yells incoming, and the rocket raced out of the garage. I had an instant where I was watching our creation flying through the yard and I felt more than a little pride in our accomplishment. However, that quickly disappeared as dad took this time to turn into the driveway.

I remember the look on my Dad’s face as the rocket slammed into the windshield of his car. His mouth formed this perfect O and his eyes were real big. Now Miss Jones, I would have expected the rocket to do one of two things. First, I would expected the rocket may just bounce off the glass in a glancing blow and travel on up harmlessly in the air or secondly, for it to break the windshield and leave maybe a hole in the glass. Yet neither of these things happened. The windshield exploded into about a million tiny fragments. The rocket continued to pass through the car an became lodged in the back seat. Now I thought the seats in our car were flame retardant. As my father continues to point out however, they were designed to keep cigarettes from burning not a jet fueled rocket bomb.

It was at this point things got a little frightening. My Dad ran from the car just before the “silver bullet” exploded. I am not sure if it was the jet fuel or the car’s gas tank or a little of both, but the car just kind of blew up. It blew out all the glass on the front of our house and the engine landed in the back yard. Now, me and my friends were frozen in place with the sheer shock of what was happening. That was until my Dad staggered around the corner. He kept screaming UGH ARRGH. He began chasing me around the block. Since I have been running around the block daily since my exile to detention, I was able to stay ahead of him until the police arrived.

The police were not amused at all with my rocket and continued to call it a home made bomb. They did protect me from my Dad who was still quite out of sorts. The fire department came and put out what was left of the car and me and my buddies went to jail.

They were kind enough to release us into our parents custody, but maybe I would have preferred to stay in jail. I am not sure the full extent of my punishment yet but from what I can make out, I am going to have to live under the stairs coming out only to work to pay my Dad back every cent plus interest.

I have to be in court next week and I have a lawyer now. His greatest accomplishment thus far has been to not have anyone of use refer to the device in question as either a rocket or bomb and never as a rocket bomb. Instead we are to refer to the event as unexpected results from a scientific experiment.

SO THANKS AGAIN FOR THAT 4 MISS JONES!

 

[ChuckCuningham]

Well Miss Jones, you must have missed me today. Today was my court day. I will get to that in a minute but first I have to fill you in on what has occurred following what everyone now refers to as the incident.

As you know very little ever occurs in this town, so our car explosion made the news. The local reporters interviewed my parents, but since I am a minor they had to just refer to me as the accused juvenile in the case. We even got our own link on the Drudge Report for a time which somehow caused a flood of emails to me and my parents. I have no idea how they could have gotten our email from that scant report and a picture of what was left of my Dad’s car, but they did.

I don’t know if I am still getting any since all the computers in the house have been taken. Let me explain that turn of good news. Two days after “the incident” and one day after my 15 minutes of fame on the Drudge Report, the FBI showed up at the house. For some reason they confiscated all the computers in our home. This really upset my Dad and honestly he has been pretty upset continuously since well, you know.

The FBI seemed to think I was part of some organization out to blow things up around town. I was interviewed for over eight hours about the “crude surface to air missile” (their words not mine) that I had created. After the lie detector test, I guess they figured I was telling the truth, which did not make them as happy as you would think. The G-man who seemed to be in charge called me an idiot savant minus the savant. We then all had to pile into my Mom’s Cabriolet which makes my Dad angry every time he gets behind the wheel. I hate riding with them in the car anymore because my Dad just talks about his “Brand New GD Ford Mustang that your son blew to hell”

So now it is court day, and they are taking this very seriously at the court house. They had what was left my rocket which was more that you would think. Ron’s Dad’s GPS which somehow became a “Self Guiding Smart Bomb Device” along with pictures of what was left of Dad’s car and the blown out windows on our house were all presented as evidence against us. My Dad whispered to me that if they sent me to reform school, I would just have to walk because there was no way he was going to drive me that far in that “GD Cabriolet” (his words not mine).

The verdict was that my friends and I were in fact morons and that I was the lead moron. The judge said when I turn 18 they will expunge the fact that I am a moron from the record and people will have to go back to figuring it out for themselves. My friends and I all got 100 hours of community service and two years probation. I for being the head moron also can not get a drivers license until I reach the age of 18. There was some talk of me having to register the fact that I was a convicted moron so the neighbors could be aware of my moronicity. However, that would have taken a new law and no one seemed to want to go to that kind of effort.

 

[nowbeginsforever]

It's well written, but I don't think some of the punctuation is quite right. Also, although the idea is good, I don't think a high school student would sound that mature.

 

[xMMKayx3]

If a middle schooler such as myself can be mistaken for someone much older, I would expect a high schooler to be able to say more than the stereotypical things.

I want to read more.