The Law of the Playground
the pupil report of
Dave Chips
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There were two kids in our third year infants class called Stuart. To distinguish them in conversation we called the fat one Fat Stuart. To his face, mind, and he didn't care because he agreed that it was essential for unambiguous playground discourse.
approved Apr 26 2006, submitted Mar 28 2006 by Dave Chips
Autumn. A junior school in Essex. Three boys in the year above geekily elected not to spend their break times committing unprovoked acts of violence like the rest of us, but instead devoted their energies to collecting all the leaves in the playground, tidying them into a pile in the corner, thereby making a better, leaf-free world for all of us. Cunts.
Of course you could wait until they had a really, really big pile and then try running full pelt into it, kicking leaves everywhere while shouting "A HA HA HA HA HA! WANKERS!".
However, more sophisticated fun awaited us when one day a small shit was spied in the middle of the playground. Fox? Cat? No matter. No-one spoke. We all knew what had to happen.
A leaf was procured and dropped carefully on the shit, obscuring it. "Kristen! Kristen! a leaf for your pile!", a child called to Kristen Barnes. He came over. He picked up the leaf, and the shit with it.
"What?" he said, as our laughs rose and combined in one wall of white noise at his stupid, vacant face, his hand smeared with shit, and his slightly drooling, gaping mouth.
approved Jul 29 2006, submitted Mar 27 2006 by Dave Chips