Why I was late"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.
Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.
When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.
Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.
That is why I couldn't get here on time today."
What's your best excuse?
(
chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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Lessons in Honesty, Yorkshire, 1992When I was a kid, I went to a middle (yes, they had those in the early 90s) school which was right up the top of the hill I lived on. Every morning a bus would traverse the streets picking up kids (never before have I made a bus sound like a pervert, but I digress) to take them up the hill to school.
One particular morning, I was playing a bit too much gameboy over breakfast (warm weetabix *shudder*) on a hot summer's morning and after a bit of an earbashing from my mum ('you'll miss the bloody bus!') went out and waited for the bus. And waited. Well, I'd missed it. Not daring to tell my mother that yes, I had missed the bloody bus, I set off to run up the hill. Even with my ten year old, spritely legs and a belly full of weet-sorry, wheat- I turned up fifteen minutes late to school. I had to think of a lie, the truth would have meant a punishment of maths puzzles.
'Sorry I'm late', I panted to the teacher, sweaty and red-faced, 'the bus was late', I got a lift with my dad' (my dad can't even drive..)
Now. This is the bus that ALL the kids got on. So in theory, if I was late, *they'd* be late. But here is the twist.
'It wasn't late, it didn't bloody come!' swore the (90s, Yorkshire, brash) teacher. I looked from her for the first time for my classmates. I was the only one there!
I sat there for half an hour, hot, sweaty, wearing woolen tights (in summer! why mum why!) parched, pissed off, doing extra maths puzzles (as I was the only one there) whilst all my classmates who had been waiting for the bus strolled in eating mr freeze icepops and looking smug. The devious truthful bastards.
Now when I'm late, I just tell the truth, because I swear, whenever I give excuses, God himself divinely intervenes and makes me look like a plank!
(, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 15:24, Reply)
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