Anatomy or physics? Both sounded equally unpleasant to me, but I had to choose one. So, I figured, “Hey, if I take anatomy I can save money on medical bills by practicing self-diagnosis.” By the end of the course my average, although not high, was high enough that I could not do the research paper at all and still pass. When the due date came around and the teacher asked me for my paper, I told him I wasn’t doing one. “You can’t not do one,” he replied, “Or you won’t get credit for the class.” If I wanted that zero, I had to earn it. And earn it I did.
The next day, I brought in a sheet of paper that read, “ADD is a disease characterized by the inability to maintain attent,” and that was it. He didn’t go for that one and decided that I wasn’t “getting it”, so he scheduled a meeting with the guidance counselor, who spent the majority of the time insisting that both she and the teacher were insulted by the whole incident, apt proof that she’s a bad guidance counselor. “Why should I care about how you feel, Ben, when you hurt my feelings like this?” “Because it’s your job, you idiot. Quit if you can’t handle this.” Seeing that I had no other choice, I wrote a paper later that night in under an hour using facts I made up and the word “genetical”, ensuring that I would, in fact, earn my F.
Once the semester was over, I was ecstatic. Just eighty more days to go until the end of school forever! Plus, first period I had creative writing class, which I had been looking forward to since its announced inception two years prior. Of course, I ended up being disappointed. I found it very difficult to write for the teacher’s prompts and submitted things I had written on my own instead. However, when she said our assignment was to write about a world record I knew my topic instantly: The Man with the Longest Boner. That’s duration wise, not girth.
Instead of telling me that she was offended by it, the teacher scheduled a meeting with myself, the principal, the guidance counselor, and my father. I was jubilant. Such a meeting would surely result in everyone being forced to say boner! It was gold. The sort thing I had hoped for my entire life. I was so excited I even wore a wire to capture all of the hilarity. I hyped that meeting like a Pay Per View Wrestling match.
The day of the meeting came around. I was sitting in TV class when it was announced over the intercom, “Ben Kharakh, please come to the office.”
“Boner meeting!” I exclaimed, and skipped down the hallway. I entered the room with a smile on my face and sat down opposite the principal.
“Listen, Ben, I’m a douche bag,” he said, “Your story is inappropriate and offensive.” I opened my mouth to speak and he interrupted, “I won’t be arguing this with you.” Hold on a second, I thought, let me try this again. “I won’t be arguing this with you.” The man was acting like a child. Every time I attempted to speak, he’d interrupt with the same phrase. Yet there was so much to say in my defense, but I capitulated quickly and let the meeting run its course.
First, I was told to submit another story, then they brought up the biology paper, and, for reasons I cannot fathom, they started complimenting me on my writing. This was uncalled for! I wanted to be reprimanded. I was supposed to be told, “Boners are an inappropriate topic for a school assignment,” or, “School is no place for boners,” not, “You’re doing a heckuva job, Benny.”
I got the principal back at the graduation, though. When the time came around for me to shake his hand, I did that thing where you wiggle your finger against the palm of the other person and everyone could see how uneasy that made him. Plus, I’m now the number one Google result for longest boner. And number two is me announcing that I’m number one.
