Well, my life goes on,...
The Chem Teacher hates me. I know it.
For example, I was calmly, innocently playing games on my graphing calculator. I know you're not allowed to play games during class, but was I disrupting anyway? I wasn't bothering anyone, except the kid next to me who was forced to listen to me groan and moan when I lost. That's it! That's flipping it! No one else. I wasn't bothering the teacher or anyone. You can't blame me for playing games. I mean, how are you supposed to go through 52 minutes with that crack geezer? You tell me. It's either playing the games, or sleeping-- which would get you in a lot more trouble. Hell, I count seconds in that class. One, two, three...
Well, I was calmly playing tetris. Happy in my little world. And then, I hear something. Something behind my desk. I look back, and there he is. In his hairy old glory. My heart practically blew out of my chest, I was so scared. He snatched the calculator from me, and sorta yelled, "What is this PETER??"
"A calculator"
" What were you doing on it???!!?"
"Playing games..."
At that, he took it, locked it up, and said I would have to stop after school by the vice principal's room and pick it up. Now that scared me. (The vice principal also hates me, but that's another story.)
If the old buddy boy had lifted his head once awhile, he would notice all the flashes and blinking from all the calculators hidden under the desks, with student's heads bent down, concentrating on getting to the next level of "Block Dude" or "Baseball Version 2.1."
But for some reason, he got me.