The best maths lesson I never had ... (thanks to the white powder)
Several means of achieving revenge have been offered on this board in the time I’ve been reading. I would like to offer up the best one I ever found, told to me from an unexpected source. This is a straightforward old-ground revenge story, so if that’s not your thing I understand – I have no idea how long this will get - apologies.

***into the past ***

The scene of this story is set in the seconded squalor of secondary school. From years seven to the time I quit the place I was in a pretty tight nit group of about 10 of us. We were the oddballs, the leftovers... but we all muddled along together and I gained some really good friends in the process - with exceptions.

Our main group had its sub-divisions and for large parts of the time it was just us four girls and two guys. Sam (the boy) and Alicia (the girl) were two in my group who had parents who were much richer, much better connected than the rest of us (this being a bog standard comp) and they weren’t afraid to let it show.Ever thought the loners don’t bully their own? Ever thought the worst bullying was just the physical kind? I learnt the answers to those questions over a series of months when we hit year 9. It started as little snide glances and comments about the ... variations in our backgrounds. It escalated into a campaign to slander me by spreading rumours (the subjects aren’t which isn’t important) and trying to involve me in their two-faced bitching contests where anything you say ... will be thrown back in your face the next day.

I can’t say it was any particular thing, but one day I just saw them openly pointing and jeering at me and decided enough was enough – I wanted revenge. I was tired of being made to feel like I only existed for their entertainment. I gave a lot of thought to the kind of revenge I wanted. It wasn’t to be physical, that’s not my style. And I didn’t want it to be malicious or have lasting damage like (certain) rumours can ... besides I didn’t have the kind of influence in our group or the school to spread the kind of rumours they had. Then one day Opportunity came and danced in front of me. I managed to get hold of Sam’s spare locker key. Through cunning means? No, I just happened to notice one day that he kept the two keys together on his bunch – the silly chap! – and lifted one. Suddenly I had access to his locker! Opportunity had bought along her friends Good Fortune and World of Opportunities.

Inspiration eventually came from an unlikely source: my mother. I can’t remember her exact words but suddenly she came out with it in discussion. The old mysterious white powdered substance in the locker trick – to be discovered by a teacher at an opportune moment. I should mention at this point that Sam was in the habit of keeping his bag in his locker at lunch – thus sealing the deal on my means of revenge. I should mention this point that my mum is a legend, and good on this stuff from her own school days. She even ended up being the one who supplied the gear for me – god knows who her contact was.

So now it was a case of timing – as I said, I wanted my revenge to be visual, something I where I could see the effects of my time spent scheming. Maths, period 4 after lunch was the only window of oppurtunity giving me the time I needed. It was the habit of our group to spend lunchtime in the form room of our year base. That lunchtime, on a cold January day I snuck away on some excuse and headed to the locker room area. (the old fashioned steel row things that’ll grab your finger) All the while I was nervous – after all, what if I was found in possession?!

Checking no-one was around (success) I hastily opened his locker and slipped the stuff of powdered goodness into his bag making sure to spread it about like it had burst. I had a good portion of it in a polythene bag (neatly sealed by my good Catholic mother) and had intended to take the bag away (fingerprints! Evidence!) but in the end I had to leave it all there – bag and all. I was nervous, never handled this stuff before, and even managed to get some on my sleeve. That led to a nerve-wracking trip to the bathroom to wash it off.
So anyway, we come to afternoon reg. Sam has retrieved hi s bag and seems none the wiser. I am trying to act casual, and failing – anticipating the moment of discovery by him, the tutor, the teacher – anyone.

So far, so good, as we head to afternoon maths (two blocks and a godly number of steps away) there was already an odd film around the rim of his bag. And it starts to kick off. We enter the classroom before the teacher (only 20 or so of us in this, the lower to middling set)Wanting a front row seat, I go sit by Sam, who is unknowingly about to pull Chaos (hard on the heels of Chance and Opportunity) from his bag to join the party. Pulling his maths books from his bag, he discovers they are covered, no, caked in a thick film of powder ... powder that starts to cloy in the air faster than the revulsion when Westlife are played on loop at a record store. And not just his maths books - showing no academic snobbery I believe priceless Science and History textbooks were also victims to the advance of my dodgy white substance. Understandably, Sam is shocked as he drops the book and yanks out the polythene bag. (Mistake#1) As it spreads he hastily throws it away (Mistake#2) and by this point he is caked in it too. The sight of Sam, all his branded gear and hair products, standing looking down at himself in shock, looking like a dandruff army is marching down his front, will stay with me always. I realise I don't want to be *too* close to the action and have moved away by this point.

Not so Tanya, one of the other of our friends, and Matt (the other boy, if you remember) who were so unfortunate as to catch the momentum of the bag as Sam hurled it away. Indignant, rightly, in thinking that Sam had thrown it *at* them, Tanya picked up the bag and *threw* it back.

By now the powder had finished its ground to hair to bag assault and was making a bad for domination of the entire room via the air and the carpet and curtains. If you ever wondered what a talcum powder fight looked like, I can tell you it's devastating.

Yep, that's right, talcum powder. But this is not just any talcum powder, this is Johnson's extra fine, delicately scented talcum powder, in short, it is the shit, and it spreads faster than the lastest expenses scandal.

As Sam, Tanya and Matt vollied the half-empty bag of finest powdered goodness between them in ever-growing vitriolic venom, an odd feeling of peace and contentment and justice settled over me just like the cloud of dust spreading all over the room - as I was doubling over in laughter. It had gone better than I had imagined.

(The rest is posted in reply for the sake of length, as the story does in a way end here - I'd got what I wanted. But if you wanted to find out the rest click on the reply. I hope this has made the length ok)
(treaclebriggs, Thu 14 May 2009, 21:26, 2 replies)

Rest of story:

At this moment, into the cloud walks Mr. Creed, our stocky, no-nonsence Maths teacher - fatally, fatally late to the lesson to be greeted by three children caked to the hilt in talcum powder and the rest of the class in hysterics. By this point I had disposed of the bag in the bin - evidence!)

That is certainly something they don't prepare you for in teacher training. Soon it was over as quickly as it began. The culprits obvious, evacuation is obvious and we are frogmarched as one (slightly powdered) entity to an empty classroom down the corridor. Mr Creed sends them straight to the caretaker's cupboard to get cleaning items.

I should stop here, the revenge should have stopped here, but there was just one final thing I couldn't have hoped for or planned that was the crowning moment.

And this was it: Sam and Tanya were sent off to the caretaker's cupboard near reception the other side of our (vaguely t-shaped) school. The staff were unimpressed: they were issued with cloths, spray ... and a vacumn cleaner. And not just any vacumn cleaner. Who else but Henri?

Sam (being the boy I guess) was the one who carred the bright red Henri round the T-Shape, through our block and up three flights of stairs back to maths) You remember I said he was big on pride, a bit of a snob? My revenge, not physical or malicious, got him where it hurt the most - his image and ego. The thought of Sam 'I'm middle class will have a BMW by the time I'm 18 I just don't do common' Farly, bearing Henri aloft, still absolutely covered in talcum powder from his hair to his Kickers going through the school being stared at by fellow pupils is one that I shall treasure always.

I got to see something of it by sneaking back to the classroom later on the pretence of having left something behind. It was Matt on windows, Tanya on tables and Sam ... Sam just wasn't letting Henri go and was busy vacumning. The best bit? Henri had come with no nozzle attachment, so all Sam had was the end metal tube - being flailed uselessly up and down the generic fuzzy brown classroom carpet like a postmodern javelin. The talcum powder was thick, it was settled and it was *fragranced* - it wasn't going anywhere without a fight. It had gone all over Sam, but it wasn't going up Henri.

Being a good helpful friend, what could I do? I shut the door, left them to it, and burst out laughing. I'll leave them there and shut the door on this part of my past. We didn't have much of a maths lesson after that ... another bonus. I suppose I was the most suspicious, as I was laughing the hardest. But no, no one ever suspected quiet, hard-working little me, and I was never to this day found out.

Thank you if you stayed with my story this long, and for allowing me to briefly relive one of my best days in school. I would do it again tomorrow - only next time I would take pictures.

* No names were changed in the writing of this story.
(treaclebriggs, Thu 14 May 2009, 21:59, closed)

Simple revenge....
Brilliant.

*click*
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 15 May 2009, 9:09, closed)