Yeah, so I know no one's going to read this huge wall-o-text, but I felt like writing and posting something so...here ya' go. This is just some little tidbit from my terribly unfunny life. Seriously. You ever talk to someone who has all these great little stories to fit any occasion? Yeah, well I got nothin'. At best I can recall a hilarious Conan O'Brien skit that kind-of applies to a situation. But that's it. So I thought of my best story - and here it is.

Back in the ninth grade, I believe, I had a really lazy english teacher who would just have us write...whatever. So one day he wanted us to write a two-page double-spaced paper on the funniest event to ever happen in our lives. Being the industrious lad I was I gave it all of two minutes thought before saying “Screw it, I’ll just write about what happened on the bus last week. Surely not the funniest thing ever, but it’s good for half a chuckle at least.” Turns out it was the anti-funny. It actually sucked out what little funny was in the room. But more on that in a moment.

So, the next day I eagerly gripped my two-page double-spaced paper in my hand ready to hand it in...but what’s this? Read them in front of the class, Mister Lazy McProfessorton? Yeah, he wanted some read out loud. Apparently he was in such a drunken stupor the night before that he forgot to prepare yet another lesson plan. He called on a girl first and she was all “So one time I was skiing with my friend Melissa and Taylor and her boyfriend Brad and I think Matt was with us. So we were going to the ski lift and like I totally fell on my a-ah...butt and we just started laughing it was so funny.” At which point she burst into giggles along with the REST OF THE CLASS. Apparently if you’re a hot chick all you have to do is fall and its the funniest thing that ever happened.

So this was followed by two or three more girls who all recounted their most hilarious falling-in-public moment. Then Mister Idon’tfeellikeworkingappolous decided to call on a male. I quickly averted my eyes because I like talking in public about as much as I like Donnie Osmond (horse-toothed smiling idiot bastard.) But then I realized, “Snap, that’s what he expects me to do. And since when do I say ‘Snap’?” So I purposely made eye contact as if to say “It’s go time. Call me you sick freak, I dare you. DO IT! NOW!” I guess I was staring pretty intently cause I actually made him look away uncomfortably. But he called my bluff. With shamefully downcast eyes he studdered out my name with the softest tremble in his voice.

Now I’m not a hot chick. I’m not a hot anything. And my story didn’t involve a Charlie Brown-esque pratfall. But with total disregard for my audience I read my little story which read something like:

Alright, so I took the bus home every once in a while but tried to avoid it mainly because there was this Severe Behavorial Problem Something-or-Other boy named...let’s say Patches. That’ll work. Patches was what you’d get if you gave a ADD riddled crackhead a steady diet of sugar and no hugs...and crack of course. Patches would sit, or rather convulse excitely, in the front seat so the bus driver could shriek at him whenever he smacked or stabbed his seatmate. Seriously, this was a high school bus and this kid was like four. And he was always on the bus when I got on and still on when I got off. I think he lived there. Like some sort of bus-gremlin.

Right, so I was on the bus sitting about two or three rows back opposite from Patches. Now there was this one street where all these pinetree bracnches hung low over the road and the bus would slap into them. It was always interesting to watch Patches at this moment because he would stop trying to set this seatmate on fire to stare in awe at the tree branches slamming into the bus. There was a glitter in his eyes and I knew his tiny troubled mind was cooking up something. And sure enough, one day as we approached the street he lowered the window and poised himself. I realized what was about to happen and sat back sure that this was going to be the best thing ever.

Sure enough he stuck his sugar-and-mucus coated hand out the open window.

As the branches cracked into his hand I swear time slowed down. Patches quickly pulled his hand back in and there were actually pine needles embedded in his palm. And he barely began wailing when the second greatest thing happened: massive pine tree branch assault.

Now, understand it was a hot day and everyone had their windows lowered. Patches apparently started a chain reaction and as the bus drove down the street the pine branch proceeded to shoot through every open window and slap the seat's occupant in the face all the way down the bus. It was like dominios. And the sound: WHAP ooowww WHAP oooooh WHAP *further pitiful moaning*.

And best of all I was seated across from this kid I couldn’t stand. Now at the time I don’t know why I didn’t like, nay hate, this poor child. He never talked. He was just some bespeckled pale awkward blond kid. But recently I figured it out - he had a fat forehead. I absolutely loathe people with lumpy, chunky foreheads. I don’t know why. You could be the nicest person in the world and if your forehead is chubby I will want only to punch you in the face. Anyway when he got slapped by the tree branch he let out this pitiful whimper and just started rubbing his tender lumpy forehead. It was hilarious.

Or so I thought. I finished reading and everyone - except my friend who was sitting next to me on the bus when it happened - stared at me blank faced. I think the teacher was trying to stifle a chuckle, but that was it. “And then I fell down?” I attempted weakly. Nothing.

Funniest thing ever? Not by a long shot. Funnier than some girl falling? I thought so.

So there ya' go. Yippee.