The history of man holds many secrets. What happened to Atlantis? Why are Bosco sticks so good? Why does g-d torture Cub fans? Well, all of these mysteries pale in comparison to that same underworld all of us face every day: the bottom of our desks.
“I am going in,” reported one brave sophomore as he reached to touch the bottom side of his desk. Unfortunately, his hand is no longer with us today. For those of us still alive, unlike that brave sophomore, the risk is as great as using Sparknotes in the WERCS. Sometimes people get lucky and only touch gum. Others aren’t so lucky, getting their hand caught in those under the desk bear traps or randomly protruding knives. Yet, there is great reward for those who venture into the deep. Etched on these desks are wise proverbs, such as the oft discovered “f#*k you.” Some are so lucky to learn their mother is a whore.
With a taste of the wisdom that cannot be taught in the classroom, some students risk moving from under the desk and into the public bathrooms. Though I have never stepped inside that surly brown and yellow covered school bathroom, I have heard the agonizing screams and the even larger jet-like noises coming from those school built death traps. It is rumored that on those stall walls, aside from the occasional bomb threat, rest quotes that put MLK’s eloquence to shame. One particularly famous wall graffiti reads “poopy.” Yet another reads “I am watching you.”
Mysterious and valuable phone numbers are written on those walls. On those walls, people give you the number of people to call to have a “good time.” These young Ruben Studdards, courageous and stupid enough to start a hopeless career, come out of the stall with urine stenched wisdom beyond their years. And malaria.
