B3ta got me into trouble (almost)
Well, I have spent a long time trying to think of something amusing for this QOTW, and failed. So here is the sorry tale of how b3ta got me into trouble (almost). As I am still enjoying the farce that is catholic education, this sorry story takes place just mere months ago.


It doesn't really deserve squiggly lines, it was mere months ago...


As a young sprog I was gifted with higher than average intelegence (not as easy as the daily mail would have you believe) and well practiced in the art of cheating (and not getting caught) I am in a high achieving maths class, and this story takes place in just that lesson, in a cold, harsh decembers day, nearing the season of goodwill.

It was common practice for the teachers pets, and those failing class, to pen a festive goodwill to the teacher (and maybe a bottle of his favourite tipple to boost your mark just a little higher)these would then be displayed on a large grey filing cabinet.

Annoyed at such a blatant display of suck-up-ery I recalled a gem from the ever-popular christmas card image challenge. Using my spare pen (different colour, I am gifted remember)I scrawl "The Credit's Crunching, Times Are Hard, Here's Your Fucking Christmas Card" on a spare piece of graph paper, folded landscape. Quickly signing it "To Mr.Poncytits (may not be real name) Merry Chrimbo, From yr. 11"

I passed it to my friend who sat on the row behing me. Oh how we chuckled. I was a comedy genius.

All was well, I laughed, he laughed. Then he passed it to popular kid. Popular kid lauged. I was in with the comedy ELITE. But then my heart sinks. The offending artcicle is passed around the class. Everyone has a mighty chuckle at the b3ta inspired masterpiece until *Oh CRAP* the card is in possesion of none other than sir himself. He reads the front. *I quiver slightly* His hairy, mathematical brow creases *Im posivively shitting myself* And he lets out a supressed laugh. I'm in the clear! I thought, as he opens the card. His tiny, maths teacher brain tries to process the message inside. It can only be a carefully crafted insult, he thinks.

"The person who wrote THIS" He says with distain as all the muscles in my anus contract to a diamond-forming intensity, "Shall be sent to Mr.Evil-head-of-year" My heart sank to the deep, dark recesses of my size elevens (Im not tall, I just have clown feet)

Time passes by, I have ten minuites until the bell rings, no-one has said my name, but if I don't own up I know there will be a whole class interogation, and I will be universally hated, and most likely found out. It is the time for ten-munuite-trivia at the end of the day, and the coming clean period is dissapearing fast. Until...

"NAME! Who is the current mayor of London?" A tiny, balls-in-vice squeak eminates from my voicebox, a variation on the usual post-pubescent baritone "BorrisJohnson, and... well... iwrotethehorriblyoffensivechristmascard." Sir looks stunned (I generally try to hide from teachers my past experieces with class C drugs, mild alcoholism and lewd conversations about ejaculating on my own face in a soundproof music room full of girls)

He approached me afterwards, and described my punishment (an after-school on the last day of term) whilst trying to stifle a blatant giggling fit. Using my wit and charm*, I had managed to convince him of the innocent nature of the card. Never did turn up to that detention, and my crime was never mentioned again (Until the first day back, when I foolishly dyed my black Tom Baker noggin-pubes bright blonde)


And that, fellow b3tans, is how you, collectively, got me into trouble. I hope you are pleased.

*Wit and charm not guarenteed to be prevalent in this post

Apologies for length, but i'll save the cock gags for the one where I ejaculate onto my face.
( UseAName Because you cant get the bends if you muff dive., Mon 2 Feb 2009, 23:13, Reply)