Eruptions
(related from parental tellings, so embellishments may already be provided: The crux of the story did actually happen, however)

Many many moons ago, when I was a but a mere little Moogling, I was averse to the act of washing. I'm talking when I was about 5 or 6... Looking back, it was probably something to do with the presence of a large black spider down behind the bath. It could have been just that I was a filthy little tyke, but I digress.

My mum had tried many different things to get me into or under water, but failed on all fronts. After discussion with the teachers at school, she decided to take a different tack... to let peer pressure take it's course, and have some abuse from friends about how bad I smelt bring me back out of the fold of the great unwashed.

Nice one, Mum.

All seemed to be going well. I hadn't had a bath for about 10 days, I was getting a little ripe, and I was starting to get quite a bit of stick in the playground (in fact the nickname of 'Stinker' stuck with me long beyond the end of this tale...)

Then something happened that brought the whole plan to naught. My teacher went off sick (with what I now know was a nervous breakdown). We had a substitute teacher lady to take her place while she recuperated.

First day was fine. Nothing really happened, apart from me probably getting a little stinkier.

Day two. Mid-morning. We sit down as normal for story time (remember, this is upper infants, or 'Year 2' as it's now called). I do not stay seated for long. I get called up to the centre of the group by the substitute teacher.

Unceremoniously, I get stripped to my vest and pants, and get given what was essentially a bed bath. With cold water from the art sink. And soap. And a sponge. In front of the rest of the class. Vigourously.

...

I loved it. My Mother was apparently less than impressed when she was told 'Mummy, I don't need to take a bath tonight, as the teacher washed me at school'

Headmasters were involved. If it happened today, I suspect police would be involved...

The house I now live in has a spider down behind the bath as well. But it doesn't bother me. I shower at the Gym, which also gives me an excuse to look at other men's willies.

That's the key. Spiders behind the bath made me gay.

I think I drifted a little towards the end there, but it's a Friday afternoon, so I think I'm excused.

Length? I've lost about a stone in weight, so apparently it's half an inch bigger than it used to be.
( moogthedog, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:06, Reply)