PHS (a satire)

DISCLAIMER: The people, places, and events in this short story are fictional. Well, almost. They’re based on real people, places, and events, but the names have been changed to keep me from getting in trouble. Let’s just say it’s based on the high school I attended in Vancouver, Washington. I’m not going to tell you which one, but it’s either Fort Vancouver or Prairie, and it’s not Fort Vancouver. I’ll leave you to figure it out. Of course, if you didn’t go to high school in Vancouver, Washington, that may be somewhat difficult. Oh well.

Hi. my name’s Chevy Blazer. I don’t know you too well, so why don’t we get acquainted? I’ll start by telling you about a typical day at school for me. As a matter of fact, I think that I’ll tell you about how my day went yesterday. Well, I got to school, and I was chatting with my friend Coel Johnson about the new computer system the school bought to operate the bells, when the bell rang. So, I headed to class. About 20 seconds after the 5-minute bell rang, another bell rang. Then in another half minute, another bell… and another… and another… By the time I got to class. twenty bells must have rang.

Finally, I got to my first class, which is Computer Tech, where I help monitor and troubleshoot the school’s new computer lab, so I’m basically like this lady Fray who likes to kick people off the computers in the library. Anyway, I was sitting there, doing work on my computer when this teacher brings her whole class in here unannounced, even though we supposedly have this great system where the teachers are supposed to sign up beforehand. Not even five minutes after they come in, I start to get bombarded with no-brain questions like… “Why won’t my computer turn on?” Well, maybe if you tried plugging it in, you might have a little more success! And with the phone cord sitting beside the computer in plain sight, unplugged… “Why won’t my computer get onto the Internet?” Perhaps having it connected to the phone lines might help just a bit! What really ticks me off is the kids who have no patience, and when the computer won’t print the first time they hit the print button, they hit it about twenty more times. It’s like these people who are waiting for the elevator to reach their floor, and they push the button over and over like it is going to get the elevator there faster. In the case of the printing, all it does is print out nineteen more copies than they need.

So, first period finally ended, and I went to my second period math class taught by Mr. Blast. I get to class, and Mr. Blast comes up to me with this weird look on his face. “Guess what I bought yesterday?” I don’t know, what? “I finally got myself a new computer!” Cool. So you got that IBM we were showing you? “Nope. I got an awesome new Macintosh 7200/90. It works like a charm… For about ten minutes in between lock-ups. But hey, one lock-up every ten minutes is a small price to pay for a really good computer.” Uh huh. You are hopeless.

In third period, I normally have PE, but yesterday, I got called to the counseling center. They want me to do this resumé now, my Sophomore year, so they can put it in their archives, and in ten years when I go to get a job at some big corporation, they will supposedly still have this resumé in their computer so I can take it and use it to get a job. Yeah, right. I can see the interview now. “Well… lets see here, you’re asking for a job as head accountant. Ah, here we go, past work experience. ‘I mowed lawns around my neighborhood for a summer.’ Well. Very nice. ‘I baby sat for my neighbors every weekend for two months.’ I see. Okay, how about your references? ‘Mr. Blast, sophomore trig teacher. Mr. Lark, sophomore English teacher.’ NEXT!”

Fourth period is Japanese. My regular teacher, Mrs. Christiansen, was gone to another teacher’s funeral today, so we had a substitute. He brought us to the library so that we could do research on a recent assignment. We got there, and were working, when someone whispered to the guy next to him. Bad move in the library. We all saw it coming, so we plugged our ears. And then, there it was. Mrs. Claire, the librarian suddenly started yelling at the top of her lungs: “QUIET DOWN!!! THIS IS THE LIBRARY!!! PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO WORK!!! IF YOU WANT TO TALK, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE!!!” After about a minute of this, she eventually shut up. Then, it was as if this kid had a death wish or something, the same kid started to tip back in his chair and put his feet on the table. You just can’t get any stupider than that. “GET YOUR FEET OFF OF THE TABLE!!! NOW, PET IT AND TELL IT YOU’RE SORRY!!! AND SIT DOWN PROPERLY IN THAT CHAIR!!! I MEAN NOW!!!” Let me just tell you, I am never sorry to leave that place.

Fifth period, I went to Mr. Lark’s world lit class. As soon as the bell rang, he asked us to turn in our homework from yesterday. I turned to my friend Bob Shelly, and asked him, what homework? “I don’t know. Mr. Lark! you didn’t assign homework yesterday.” “Yes, that assignment I gave all of you as you were walking out of the door with your backs turned to me. That was homework. You and Chevy didn’t finish it? Well, I guess you’ll get a big, fat Ø then, won’t you?” But Mr. Lark, how could we finish it when we didn’t know we even had it? “I guess that’s your problem. I don’t see anyone else who didn’t finish.” Uh, I beg to differ. There’s me, Bob, Tom Ellis, Coel Johnson, Logo Lexo, and Flint Idsinga. “Well, that’s just not my problem.” During the rest of the class, I worked on some dumb satire essay he assigned after taking roll.

Sixth period, last period of the day, I went to Mr. Lemberger’s chemistry class. We were doing a lab experiment yesterday, and Mr. Lemberger is very strict on lab precautions. We were in the middle of the experiment, and my nose started to itch, so I stepped off to the side, and removed my safety goggles so I could scratch it. Just at that moment, as if he were watching me and waiting for it to happen, Mr. Lemberger snuck up behind me. “Chevy, I want a two-page essay on lab safety.” You’re absolutely right, Mr. Lemberger. I should NEVER remove my safety goggles when working with bubbling, acidic, highly flammable quantities of salt water. And even though I wasn’t involved with the experiment at the time, I know my goggles could have been very useful had a student attempted to smash a beaker in my face. “I’m glad you understand, Chevy, don”t let it happen again.’ We finished the experiment, and finally the bell rang for school to be out. Then the bell rang again… and again… and again…


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