sixth grade teacher: "the school has decided that my
terminal brain cancer is effecting my work performance"
entire class: *flashes back to when said teacher threw a football at the girls bathroom window*
entire class: *flashes back to when said teacher
marked out our imaginary countries fake land with neon duck tape all over the walls and ceiling and chairs and desks, and if we accidentally stepped on each others fake land, we were forced to go to rock paper scissors war*
sixth grade teacher: "so i regret to do this, but i am being let go and filing for unemployment"
me: *starts taping my nostrils upward to my forehead*
sixth grade teacher: "hopefully if this condition can be treated or terminated, i will return back to work at this school, but for now me and my girlfriend have decided that whats best is for me to get admitted to the cleveland clinic and begin treatment"
me: *turns around to my sixth grade friend with my nostrils still taped to my forehead so i look like a pig* "beep boop"
friend: "starts maniacally laughing so hard she cries"
every other person in the room: *gives her a disgusted look*
me: *ducks my head and rips the tape
off my face*
in conclusion, i am in 9th grade now and all i can say is: r.i.p Mr.
Gerace.