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Diary of a Shitty Kid

By CarlScott

Children / Humor

Tuesday, 5 July 2013

Today was one of my first days at school. In fact, it was my second.

Being Tuesday, I had decided to wear my best clown outfit, complete with giant multicoloured afro-wig and enormous shoes.

To no-one’s real surprise, it went down a treat, impressing and astounding people and adults alike, sometimes at the same time. I laughed with pleasure and did a little dance.

Still, there was a dark side to this pleasant sounding occasion. I had pleaded with my overbearing parents to let me wear this attractive costume the day before (Monday), but they had refused outright, mainly because Monday was spandex day.

As a result of this, I screamed at them for six hours to no avail, except for them buying me an X-Box. Sometimes I felt as though I was a prisoner in a concentration camp, except instead of Jews, I was surrounded by uncaring adults. I hate adults. Especially Môn fuehrer (German for ‘my father’ I believe, LOL ).

I was greeted at school by a fat child who punched me in the stomach. I thanked him and pinched my large red nose for comedy effect.

‘Ha ha ha’ I laughed joyfully, amused by the pleasant honking sound that emanated from my nose.

The fat child, also amused, punched me in the face, dislocating my jaw.

After that experience, it was time for Maths and English class. As my school was small and particularly inept, it had condensed maths and English into the one class and taught both simultaneously in order to save time and resources.

I must admit, this did strike me as the ideal way to teach both of these fine subjects.

I settled into another child’s seat, forcing him to fall off the other side of the chair. This is my seat, mother f**ker! I laughed at him uncontrollably.

I opened my textbook and pondered the first question:

If Shakespeare had eight apples, and ingested all but one of them while writing one of his popular space operas, how many apples would he NOT have left?

It was a good one. I pondered it for the next twenty minutes while the teacher talked about something else.

Suddenly the answer came to me! ‘Twelve!’ I screamed out, immensely proud of my quick thought process.

Most of the class turned to me, both startled and probably impressed. No doubt challenged by my intelligence, the teacher barked some instructions at me and pointed towards the door. I purposely stopped listening and began concentrating on the next problem:

If you had to recommend three classics of modern literature to an isosceles triangle, what would you suggest?

This was an easy one, and let’s face it, it’s the kind of question that has no incorrect answers.

I was a big fan of the animated children’s film Cars so I wrote that down.

Next I wrote Twilight because it’s my favourite time of day. I followed that up with Tolstoy’s War and Peace.

‘I've finished!’ I exclaimed and shot my hand straight up in the air.

‘Finished what?’ questioned the teacher, clearly an idiot.

I ran out of the classroom, laughing hysterically.

Next up was Science Physical Education class. These were two subjects that combined nicely, especially seeing as the human body was essentially science anyway.

I took off my clown outfit and the rest of my clothes and strode proudly into the laboratory where my contemporaries were busily lifting weights and recording things on notepads which dangled from straps around their necks.

‘I'm here for the physical education science class.’ I announced. Some of the girls screamed, but most of them pointed and laughed. Encouraged by the display of laughter I began to perform some of my patented dance moves, including the hedgetrimmer, the bending down-stretch-pull and the walking man.

This was fun for a while, but eventually I got bored and left. There has to be something fun to do around here!

It turned out there wasn't so I went home to harass my parents.

‘Hey mom,’ I said in an American accent as I strode purposely through the front door.

‘What in the Jackson Five are you doing home?’ She squealed.

Rather than answer that question, I plomped myself down in a chair and switched on the television set, turning it up as loud as it would go to drown out the sound of my mother. After four hours of this I fell asleep.

What will happen tomorrow in the Diary of a Shitty Kid? Find out tomorrow.

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