When I was in high school, there were some guys in the dorm that I didn't like. I didn't like them because they harassed me. I probably deserved it, as I took every chance to harass them. It was a Reagan-Gorbachev thing. They would yell at me for waking up with bloody noses and walking to the bathroom at three A.M. and I would walk over to their doors and bleed on the floor in front of their rooms. It was nothing close to fun, but it mollified my mean streak.
I pretty much despise fish that smells like a fish market. I find that smell nauseating. One day for lunch we were having fish filets and I took one and wrapped it tightly with paper napkins. They had adhered pretty well due to the grease coating and I walked out the door with my weapon. It was a fairly warm day in April in western Massachusetts and the target had his window open. The top part was pushed down and formed a three inch platform with the bottom part. These windows had no screens and the second floor was a tough shot from the ground. The blinds were drawn and I figured this would help my dastardly plot. It only took two carefully made tosses to get the fish filet on the window. It landed with a little wet thud and stayed up there for about a week.
I checked the window ledge every time I heard the occupants come back from class. I was outside when I heard the yells, "Goddammit, where is that fucking smell coming from? I heard tossing and turning over of many objects and more yelling as the two maroons blamed each other's dirty clothes for the pungent aroma of rotting, greasy fish filet. Which now smelled wuite foul when the wind blew right. I was laughing to myself and sitting on the rocks across the road from the window when they finally raised the blinds. The fish filet showed incredible aptitude for espionage by falling off the ledge when nudged by the rapidly rising blind. Those bastards never knew what caused the smell.
In a fantastic twofer, the freshman that lived below them had a frightening night listening to raccoons fighting over the nasty remains of my partner in crime. Don't fuck with me, you'll lose.
Oh no, did you go to Williston, Deerfield or NMHA?
I love love love Chuckles starting shit stories.
You were in dorms in high school? Did you go to a boarding school?
That's why we all love Chuckles. Vengeance!
He had to have gone to board school and I can confirm this if he went to Williston or NMHA. I have connections. I am not convinced its true. They were way worse at my prep school. Of course, I didn't board, so I wasn't involved in that drama of "sleep over camp".
Damn. I needed a good laugh.
I have it on good authority that NMHA is the school. I could with the right bribe even name the dorm. Heh.
Oh yeah, it was a boarding school. It was at times reminiscent of an iron maiden and at times, my own vengeance farm.
I've got a few more up my sleeve of the all true variety.
Northfield Mount Hermon School, BAY BEE!
Were you there when the head shaving happened?
Oh fuck, I am going to have to talk to my friends. Another student I went to school with in England went to NMHA. My boy is the cutest white toast boy in the whole wide world will be able to confirm. I love when I get to talk to him. I think I still secretly burn for him. Though, UC is way cuter in his little Jewish UC ways. (Thank god you weren't a Williston boy. I really would have had to hate you along with the ex who went to Vermont Academy).
You are such a diplomat's kid with the boarding school and liberal arts degree. If you join the Peace Corp, I'll have to have you beaten for living out all the stereotypes.
P.S. I love dan for serving up Chuckles what he deserves. Though, Fulsome is more of the little info narc for Chuckles.
I'll dandrobium's wife that you 'totally heart him for giving up the goodies'.
Peace Corps ain't quite my thang anymore. I thought about it too long and let it pass for now. Working and some classes are my new obsession. Well that and writing crappy fiction. Last night while walking home, I actually wrote a vampire detective story. I should just go kill myself.
Vampire stories? Good grief. That's all I can say.
Post a Comment