Friday, January 20, 2006
Alumni BBQ Attracts Non-Alumni
Principal of Springwood Elementary/Junior High School is still scratching his head after the 50th alumni barbeque was crashed by two unidentified teens. "We had a calm Friday afternoon planned for the 50 some guests invited to the alumni BBQ, but the situation soon turned immature as two high school aged boys arrived." Mr Strathern said from his desk Monday morning.
Witnesses say that after arriving around 6:00 pm, two boys posed for a series of Alumni-only photos and then went for the name tag table. There, they gave the first impressions of drunkenness when they got into a fight over which one of them was Mr. Dinkles and who was Sergeant Keppler. After the argument, they signed fake names on the stickers and left the "Year" field blank.
It was then time to mingle. One of the boys, likely from the neighborhood, knew some of the parents chatting amicably in the parking lot. He approached them next to the food tables and, after exchanging violent handshakes with only the women, implied he was now a successful doctor and couldn't be more delighted to see everyone "after all these years". Meanwhile, his friend had purchased three hot dogs, spilt ketchup on the ground, and left a large aural tip with the two prepubescent girls working the table. Both their fathers were within earshot, and the one with a beard had this to say: "They're only in grade 7, just trying to get service hours for religion class! I don't even think they know what a 'clit' is!" offended, he continued, "At this point, I knew these guys had to go!"
Sensing something was amiss, the two boys scattered to higher ground. That is to say they went for the 26 they'd hidden in the slide, and quickly downed shots. They were returning to the parking lot where the festivities were being held when they both, simultaneously, noticed the AstroJump in the field. It begged them to do it justice.
Sammy Barnes, a grade 2 student at Springwood, was jumping happily when the two teens took over. They threatened to "pull the plug" on the AstroJump air pump unit if they were not allowed in, and Sammy, a known talker-backer, would hear nothing of it. He stuck out his tongue at the teens and then stamped one of their feet. After pinning him to the ground, administering two wet willies, and nicknaming him "Tinky Winky", the teens removed his shoelaces, and tied his hands behind his back. Drunk, they entered the AstroJump; kids' feelings were hurt, and they threw up all over.
The evening climaxed when, after being escorted off the grounds, the two boys circled the school, stacked a garbage can on a picnic table and found their way onto the roof.
Witnesses in the parking lot say that the evening was well past 8 and many of the parents had taken their younger kids home when they started hearing things being yelled at them from the roof. "So much for a calm evening where everyone enjoys themselves!" reported one angry dad.
Although accounts of what the boys actually said differ, many present agreed that "prepubescent clit" was tossed around loudly and off-key renditions of "America! Fuck Yeah!" were also heard.
The end of the evening came as the offended crowd dispersed under a hail of balls. Over the years, the elementary school had collected many soccer, foot, and base balls on the roof, and on Friday they came raining down. After unsuccessfully trying to drop kick a baseball, one teen simply threw it in the air and yelled "Gravity fuckin' rules!" The freely falling ball struck a physics teacher on the head. And then the police arrived.
Refusing to cooperate with the coppers, the boys soon grew tired of evading the megaphone and fell asleep next to a warm air vent.
Sentenced to 100 community service hours, the boys immediately and simultaneously declared they would "do it again in another 50 years!"
Witnesses say that after arriving around 6:00 pm, two boys posed for a series of Alumni-only photos and then went for the name tag table. There, they gave the first impressions of drunkenness when they got into a fight over which one of them was Mr. Dinkles and who was Sergeant Keppler. After the argument, they signed fake names on the stickers and left the "Year" field blank.
It was then time to mingle. One of the boys, likely from the neighborhood, knew some of the parents chatting amicably in the parking lot. He approached them next to the food tables and, after exchanging violent handshakes with only the women, implied he was now a successful doctor and couldn't be more delighted to see everyone "after all these years". Meanwhile, his friend had purchased three hot dogs, spilt ketchup on the ground, and left a large aural tip with the two prepubescent girls working the table. Both their fathers were within earshot, and the one with a beard had this to say: "They're only in grade 7, just trying to get service hours for religion class! I don't even think they know what a 'clit' is!" offended, he continued, "At this point, I knew these guys had to go!"
Sensing something was amiss, the two boys scattered to higher ground. That is to say they went for the 26 they'd hidden in the slide, and quickly downed shots. They were returning to the parking lot where the festivities were being held when they both, simultaneously, noticed the AstroJump in the field. It begged them to do it justice.
Sammy Barnes, a grade 2 student at Springwood, was jumping happily when the two teens took over. They threatened to "pull the plug" on the AstroJump air pump unit if they were not allowed in, and Sammy, a known talker-backer, would hear nothing of it. He stuck out his tongue at the teens and then stamped one of their feet. After pinning him to the ground, administering two wet willies, and nicknaming him "Tinky Winky", the teens removed his shoelaces, and tied his hands behind his back. Drunk, they entered the AstroJump; kids' feelings were hurt, and they threw up all over.
The evening climaxed when, after being escorted off the grounds, the two boys circled the school, stacked a garbage can on a picnic table and found their way onto the roof.
Witnesses in the parking lot say that the evening was well past 8 and many of the parents had taken their younger kids home when they started hearing things being yelled at them from the roof. "So much for a calm evening where everyone enjoys themselves!" reported one angry dad.
Although accounts of what the boys actually said differ, many present agreed that "prepubescent clit" was tossed around loudly and off-key renditions of "America! Fuck Yeah!" were also heard.
The end of the evening came as the offended crowd dispersed under a hail of balls. Over the years, the elementary school had collected many soccer, foot, and base balls on the roof, and on Friday they came raining down. After unsuccessfully trying to drop kick a baseball, one teen simply threw it in the air and yelled "Gravity fuckin' rules!" The freely falling ball struck a physics teacher on the head. And then the police arrived.
Refusing to cooperate with the coppers, the boys soon grew tired of evading the megaphone and fell asleep next to a warm air vent.
Sentenced to 100 community service hours, the boys immediately and simultaneously declared they would "do it again in another 50 years!"
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Underachiever Declares Test "Inconsequential"
Shortly after completing, (and presumably failing), his last final examination, local student Tom Walters was seen leaving the gym in what witnesses described as "a huff of anger".
"I'd seen him pissed off before, but this was like Genghis Kahn ran out of horse blood en route to the Great Wall angry. I mean angry." Remarked Micheal Androssan, who sat behind, or sometimes infront of, friend Tom Walters in Calculus all second semester. "It wasn't a hard course to begin with, and Walters was always alright at Math. I guess in the end though he had it coming."
With two months left in the course, grade 12 students Walters and Androssan sat at a comfortable 74%, and a lower than motivated 38%, respectively. Walters had only 2 other classes during the semester, and Androssan, with only Social to worry about, had no excuse.
But it was on a fateful day in April when a large delta was thrown into the equation for the two students.
Androssan entered the Math class as he always did, calling out a single, distinct "College!" and then removing the large dip in his upper lip and loudly spitting into the garbage. Oftentimes, he would leave the wrung-out dip on Mr. Clemens's desk, as a sign of affection for the ex-hockey player turned math teacher. Today however, he did not, and flung it across the room in the direction of the garbage. It didn't work as planned, and the janitor would later have to clean up shards of tobacco from the sticky floor.
After noticing Walters, who was already seated in the back, he again shouted "College!" and sat down infront of him. Mr Clemens was not yet in the class. Walters asked Androssan how his game went last night, and then the boys argued over a Pro-Line ticket Walters had bought at lunch.
Around 10 minutes into class, the boys, still raving loudly about hockey, were interrupted by their principal clearing his throat. He was standing at the front of the room showing a shapely young woman papers from Mr Clemens' desk.
"Straight out of a movie!" Walters cried with glee.
"Unbelievable!" shrieked Androssan, and the boys quickly exchanged a series of high fives with classmates around them. Androssan stretched out and put a hand in his pocket.
After introducing herself as their substitute teacher, Androssan remained erect with a hand in his pants. He turned to Walter and placed the following bet: "I'll give you 2 to 1 you can't get kicked out 5 days in a row, and then hit on her loud enough for the class to hear." Androssan was now pretending to masterbate.
The boys were promptly called out of class where the new teacher spoke to them about respect, acceptable behavior, and the etc they'd been hearing about since junior high.
The boys reentered class, and Walters, preparing to be kicked out, went to his desk and packed his bag. Androssan, still proudly sporting an erection and quoting Will Ferrell, sat down front and center. Not allowing the teacher one word edgewise under his unwavering stare, Walters began to describe the bet as "inconsequential, or, of having no consequence".
He has just completed a strong term paper for English.
Androssan, having moved to the front of the row after returning, quickly and in one fluid motion, turned and threw his textbook at Walters, who was zipping up his bag. Inadvertently, and likely because he has a strong case of ADD, Androssan was losing the bet.
Confused, a little sore, and on his way to the office, Walters ducked out the side door and went home.
A month later, Walters had succeeded in winning the bet, - it took a few streaks of varying success - but there had been a dramatic shift in the boys' marks. After having missed so many classes, Walters had fallen to a 46%, and Androssan, now that he had lost, was void of any distraction (nameably trying to take the fall every time Walters would get yelled at and trying to convince him the bet wasn't for money) climbed to an impressive 66%.
Exam day came, and Walters, 40$ richer, kissed the two food stamps good luck and got to work. With little knowledge of Calculus, and horrified to find his calculator (where he had saved the first 3 months notes) was out of batteries, he threw them at Androssan and was asked to leave the gymnasium.
Angry, dissapointed with having failed, and not wanting to show it, witnesses say Walters left the gym declaring, "That test was inconsequential,
"It was of no consequence!"
"I'd seen him pissed off before, but this was like Genghis Kahn ran out of horse blood en route to the Great Wall angry. I mean angry." Remarked Micheal Androssan, who sat behind, or sometimes infront of, friend Tom Walters in Calculus all second semester. "It wasn't a hard course to begin with, and Walters was always alright at Math. I guess in the end though he had it coming."
With two months left in the course, grade 12 students Walters and Androssan sat at a comfortable 74%, and a lower than motivated 38%, respectively. Walters had only 2 other classes during the semester, and Androssan, with only Social to worry about, had no excuse.
But it was on a fateful day in April when a large delta was thrown into the equation for the two students.
Androssan entered the Math class as he always did, calling out a single, distinct "College!" and then removing the large dip in his upper lip and loudly spitting into the garbage. Oftentimes, he would leave the wrung-out dip on Mr. Clemens's desk, as a sign of affection for the ex-hockey player turned math teacher. Today however, he did not, and flung it across the room in the direction of the garbage. It didn't work as planned, and the janitor would later have to clean up shards of tobacco from the sticky floor.
After noticing Walters, who was already seated in the back, he again shouted "College!" and sat down infront of him. Mr Clemens was not yet in the class. Walters asked Androssan how his game went last night, and then the boys argued over a Pro-Line ticket Walters had bought at lunch.
Around 10 minutes into class, the boys, still raving loudly about hockey, were interrupted by their principal clearing his throat. He was standing at the front of the room showing a shapely young woman papers from Mr Clemens' desk.
"Straight out of a movie!" Walters cried with glee.
"Unbelievable!" shrieked Androssan, and the boys quickly exchanged a series of high fives with classmates around them. Androssan stretched out and put a hand in his pocket.
After introducing herself as their substitute teacher, Androssan remained erect with a hand in his pants. He turned to Walter and placed the following bet: "I'll give you 2 to 1 you can't get kicked out 5 days in a row, and then hit on her loud enough for the class to hear." Androssan was now pretending to masterbate.
The boys were promptly called out of class where the new teacher spoke to them about respect, acceptable behavior, and the etc they'd been hearing about since junior high.
The boys reentered class, and Walters, preparing to be kicked out, went to his desk and packed his bag. Androssan, still proudly sporting an erection and quoting Will Ferrell, sat down front and center. Not allowing the teacher one word edgewise under his unwavering stare, Walters began to describe the bet as "inconsequential, or, of having no consequence".
He has just completed a strong term paper for English.
Androssan, having moved to the front of the row after returning, quickly and in one fluid motion, turned and threw his textbook at Walters, who was zipping up his bag. Inadvertently, and likely because he has a strong case of ADD, Androssan was losing the bet.
Confused, a little sore, and on his way to the office, Walters ducked out the side door and went home.
A month later, Walters had succeeded in winning the bet, - it took a few streaks of varying success - but there had been a dramatic shift in the boys' marks. After having missed so many classes, Walters had fallen to a 46%, and Androssan, now that he had lost, was void of any distraction (nameably trying to take the fall every time Walters would get yelled at and trying to convince him the bet wasn't for money) climbed to an impressive 66%.
Exam day came, and Walters, 40$ richer, kissed the two food stamps good luck and got to work. With little knowledge of Calculus, and horrified to find his calculator (where he had saved the first 3 months notes) was out of batteries, he threw them at Androssan and was asked to leave the gymnasium.
Angry, dissapointed with having failed, and not wanting to show it, witnesses say Walters left the gym declaring, "That test was inconsequential,
"It was of no consequence!"
