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UXU Issue #038
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Underground eXperts United
Presents...
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[ A Jolly Good Day In School ] [ By The GNN ]
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A JOLLY GOOD DAY IN SCHOOL!
by THE GNN/DC/uXu
"quit my job
cut my hair
you know I cut my bonds
because I don't care"
This is a true story.
"Well, Mr Svensson...this hasn't been a good year for you, eh?"
My teacher is bold, ugly and boring. He is holding a paper containing
the marks for every student in my class. My mark is rather low and I
already know it due to his voice. It sounds...happy...all teachers
sound happy when they can crush your ego to the bottom and feel better
than you. Better...
Bah! My techer looks at me, waiting for an answer to his stupid question.
What can I say? "Oh yeah, really fucked up!" or "He? I think I did
pretty well?" or "I don't know. You tell me!"
Lame answers all of them. I keep quiet. He looks disappointed.
"Well...since you did so bad on your last test I have decided to...."
He looks down on his paper. Unnecessary, since he already know what
he will give me.
"...give you...."
He closes his eyes for a moment.
"...1..."
I did really expect to get "1" in maths. I mean, I hate the subject and
the teacher. I watch him. He looks at me, waiting for a reaction. I don't
say anything. He looks rather angry and says:
"You'll have to get better, otherwise I will have to give you 1 again!"
HaVe To? Haha...It doesn't hurt him. I mean, he is the one who has failed.
He knows that he won't get much action out of his life as a teacher in
a lousy school in the middle of Sweden. Infact...THE ONLY fun he have
is to give people low marks and crush their life. Then he can feel
better, stronger...he is "smarter". A low mark to me may cause some
problem later on, and that's wonderful. Then he knows that he is
judged as a intelligent human beeing on the sick scale that todays older
section has constructed.
"Next one."
He can't get me to say anything like "Please Sorry" so he decides to
move on with the next victim. I turn around and walk to the door. I open
it and step outside. The door is closed and I lean my back against it.
Shit. Something must be done about this mark. It destroys all my other marks
and I can see a future of further school...instead of finally getting a
job somewhere and Do Something Else. But the fact that I am the one
who will take over from his lost generation is a hard feeling. He will
not let go of his "life" that easy. We, the youth, must be crushed
and tame before they let us see their mistakes. So we won't complain and
do it better. Then their lives would have been worthless.
The truth hurts. And history repeats.
I think. Then I open the door again and step inside. "You again?".
I grab my gun from the back of my jeans and cock it behind my back.
I speak: "You...are...The...looser..."
The pedagogically voice inside him starts to barf.
"well i know this is a hard mark but if you feel that its wrong you
should start thinking about studying instead of other things like
(life?)
and understand that school is important to you yes it is you have to
study to get somewhere in life get somewhere in life get somewhere in
life get somewhere in life be someone be someone be someone become someone
BECOME SOMEONE BECOME SOMETHING
EARN MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY
I show him my fist and say "Be quiet you senile old fart, please".
He looks at me and starts again:
"now listen my dear friend i must say that your behaviour is quite"
I kill him. The shot from my Desert Eagle (now loaded with .44) goes
trough his left eye, trough his brain and out on the other side.
Blood, brain and all that is splashed all over the wall and ceiling.
His body is thrown back, over a table and his hand grabs a shelf and
drags it with him in the fall. He is still holding the paper. A stream
of various fluids are dripping over it from his mouth.
I step outside.
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