“AGHHH”

Wait did I just scream out loud No That didn’t just happen Everyone’s looking at me

Why’d I even scream? Am I okay? Am I going insane? Should I just leave the room? I did

I sprinted to the bathroom Sat on the floor And cried That was so embarrassing I never want to be seen Again

I am that rizzler The one who rizzed all Except one The girl of my dreams

A crowd watched Watched as I walked towards her Proud Like the rizzy guy I am 😏

Time for this rizzler To do his thing 😏😏😏

I looked her in the eyes Her gorgeous Bright Green eyes

“Are you French? Because Eiffel for you Harder than gravity ever could” 😏😏😏 Wasn’t that so rizzy?

She must be so in love With me The rizzler 😏

“Uhmmm- First of all I’m not French Second of all That was terrible”

Dang it I’m a failure 😔

“Lemme try again!”

I got it this time But of course She had to sigh

“Are you a campfire?”

I got this She’ll totally love me 😏

“Oh gosh-“

“Because you’re hot And I want S’more of you” 😏😒😏 Was that rizz??

Everyone gasped Then there was a shout “IS THAT RIZZ??”

“No.”

Gasps

The love of my life Regected me How could she In front of Everyone

I’m no longer the rizzler But instead Just an average guy No more rizz in my days 😔

It was 2004, a nice evening at home, my mom made dinner. Chicken, Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and greens. Everything was so delicious, I went to put some Louisiana hot sauce on my chicken, because hot sauce adds an excellent flavor, I was generous with it and took a bite and was in heaven, it was very tasty, I love my mothers cooking. As I was working on my plate, my brother Steven got up from the table finishing his dinner, it was his turn to do the dishes..my other brother Travis finished and went onto play in the other room. I’m almost done, before I can finish all of my food I start to get hot, sweaty, and a sharp stinging in my mouth. I must’ve put too much on my chicken because my mouth was on fire. I went over to the kitchen sink to get some water, messing with me, my brother wouldn’t let me, causing me to freak out due to the heat in my mouth.

So I did the best and absolute worst thing I could do. I went to the refrigerator moved everything to the side that was in it, threw half my body in there and placed my tongue on the back wall of the fridge. I felt immediate relief. It was so nice, that soon ended the second I tried to pull myself out of the fridge. I found myself, well, can you picture the Christmas story scene where the kid got his tongue stuck to the pole. Well, that was me in the refrigerator. I went into full freak out mode, scared, crying, and shouting for help.

My brother Travis comes over and asks what I’m doing in there, I couldn’t talk very well but I was asking for help. He then went to pull me out because he wanted to get in there and that caused me to scream out loud. My mom and stepped came in and started asking what I’m doing, once they realized I was stuck my step dad went and got some hot water, poured it over my tongue and freed me from the refrigerator. Everyone started laughing, asking what I was thinking. I lost my tastebuds for a week, and have never lived that day down since.

One day when I was in high school I was talking with one of my friends enthusiastically about what happened the day before. Out of a sudden, a fly entered my mouth I immediately spitted it out and walked into the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Afterwards, when I walked out of the bathroom my friend told all our other friends about what happened. Hysterically, they all were laughing at me however, I laughed with them too because I wanted them to forget what happened fast. After a week of laughter at the same situation they finally forgot, at the moment I sighed with relief.

Sweaty. That’s all I felt. It was sticky and I had my period. That extra stench is…well…enough said. What I really wanted was to take a shower. But I know I didn’t have time. I grabbed my bottle of Vanilla lace. My preferred scent from Victorias Secret. I ran into Stephanie’s empty room. I saw her in our room, so I knew it was empty. I took down my pants. I sprayed my area. I missed and let out a bizarre, “ahhh.” It sounded almost cartoonish. Then I got the back just in case. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw tussling in the sheets. Stephanie’s super sweet and beautiful and quiet cousin was there, pretending to be asleep. I just stared, open jaw. How do you even begin to explain that?

It’s just gas. And everybody passes it. But it is embarrassing when you pass gas out loud. Especially, if you are the teacher.

They say that elephants never forget. I would modify that to say that if they were fourth grade male elephants, they would not only remember everything, but use any embarrassing situation against you until the day you died. Maybe longer. At least that has been my experience. And I have a story to prove it.

It was my first year of teaching. The first day, in fact. I was thrown to the wolves that are fourth grade boys. (I know. I know. I should stick with one animal metaphor, but this is my story, so I will mix metaphors if it suits me.) We were having a great time learning math. I had finished writing on the board and turned to face the class when every boy in the room, fell to the floor. They were gasping and moaning. Some were holding their noses.

“The smell!”

“Open a window!”

“We’re gonna die!”

“SBD! SBD!”

I looked around. I noticed that I was mistaken. Not all the boys were writhing on the floor. Jonathan was sitting in his desk with his head down. Apparently, he was the one who had farted. An SBD fart to boot. Silent But Deadly.

“Listen boys, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just a little gas. And everybody passes it.” I finally smelt it though. I scrunched my nose. Just a little.

“Hah! He smelled it too.”

“SBD! SBD!”

The shouting and writhing and general antics took me back to my days as a fourth grade boy. I remembered being Jonathan. Well, not quite. I was only embarrassed once in my life about farting. And it was because I let out a squeaker with hardly any smell at all. You see, in our circle of friends, we turned farting into an art form. And mine were could be the loudest or quietest, the longest or the shortest. But my farts were always the deadliest. Except that one squeaker. I had never lived it down.

Well, I tried to calm the kids down, but they had gotten into a frenzy. Even the girls had joined in. They were scrunching up their noses or even pinching them. It was that awful. At least to them. So I did the next best thing that I could. I continued my lesson. I turned to write on the board. And that was when it happened.

I was writing without saying anything. There was a lull in the shouting and writhing. A dull roar, as it were. And then there was an explosion. Okay. Not a real explosion, but an explosion between the legs. That was what the dictionary told us way back in fourth grade. A fart was a small explosion between the legs. Well, the small explosion that day got everybody’s attention.

I turned around to address the students. They had all turned to look at Jonathan. His head was up. He looked at the few boys who were looking at him, and shook his head back and forth. He raised his hand and pointed to the front of the room. Everybody was looking at me.

Jonathan said, “It wasn’t me, it was him. It was the teacher.”

It was silent. Completely silent. And then there was laughter. And a few jibes.

“That was a big fart.”

“Ha! Ha! I never heard a fart so loud.”

“He farts louder than my dad.”

“What a goober.”

Some of the comments had come from the girls too. The roars continued until…

“Jonathan, our new teacher’s worse than you.”

“Yeah. I know. But…”

Jonathan never finished his thought. He fell to the floor writhing like the rest of the boys.

“Argh.”

Most of the girls fell to the floor too. After all, everybody knew that hot air rises. Even farts. So the floor was the safest place.

The next day, all the kids were talking about my humongous fart. Both the sound and the smell. Ugh.

“Can you believe he did it in front of the whole class?” Jonathan was yucking it up with the rest of his peers.

The kids teased me about the incident well beyond the end of the school year. In fact, it was my claim to fame almost like it had been in my younger days.

One day, long after my first group of fourth grade boys had gone from the school, I got a visit from Jonathan.

“Thanks for that first day in fourth grade. I was new the spring before and the kids teased me for being a new kid and for being a guy who passed gas a bunch. But your fart changed everything. I was just one of the guys after that. And I know you did it on purpose.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Oh really.”

“Yeah. I did some investigation. You went here a long time ago, but some of the old teachers at this school and at all the schools where you went still talk about you. They even gave you a nickname.”

“Do tell.”

“They say that you’re the King of Farts.”

Writing is what the mouth can’t speak But what the mind wants to scream. Each little word a note of my existence. I want these words to rip skin and bone While still maintaining the soul. I want these words to be a portal beyond our limits. Once my words becomes a song and lifts the reader up and guide them away across the sky. In order to calm my soul… I write it down on paper. A pencil, pen, or keyboard, One letter coming after another They are all artifacts of my mind. Yet sometimes I write about another’s. I want these words to scream off the paper. Almost as if words were something you could see, Not just something you could hear. ‘Stories’. What took 2 minutes for you to read took 2 hours to birth from my imagination.

November 12, 2021

Dear Diary,

Today was THE WORST! Today started out ok, I didn’t miss the bus for once, Mom made THE BEST pancakes, and Kitty let me pet her for once. You might be asking  yourself;

‘how in the world could anything mess that morning up? Dad wasn’t even sick!’

But when things are so great, they can only go down hill. I decided today was the day, I would ask Ash, the boy I have had a crush on since last year, out. I braided my hair into a long braid which I pinned up into a bun, I put on some pink lip gloss and a little extra blush, and I even wore my best outfit ( a pair of light jeans and a pink sweater). All morning I practiced what I would say.

“ Hey Ash, I know we’ve never spoken but-“ _No _“Whats up Ash? I’m Katy, and I think you’re-“ **_Ugh no way

_**‘I think I missed the lesson on how to talk to boys’ I thought, but I knew I had to try. Ash road my bus to and from school, so I used this as my opportunity to practice in my head. I was watching him from a few seats behind, trying not to look like I was staring, when I saw her. She had long gently curled blonde hair, tan skin, pink lips that didn’t need gloss, and perfectly rosy cheeks. She was sitting next to Ash, _my Ash! _As soon as I saw her I realized my chances were slim. The way he looked at her, the way he held her perfect hand, the way his eyes sparkled when he looked into hers, it made my blood boil. Soon we were off the bus and I watched as she waved goodbye to him, and I realized it was now or never. So I made the worst decision of my life, I kissed him. Right then and there, as soon as he turned away from her I did it. I can’t believe I did that! It was behind the bus where by some mirical only the whole school saw and not a teacher. If your wondering how he responded, well at first he seemed to kiss me back, until he pushed me away and yelled “What the heck? EW!”. I dont blame him for his reaction, what I did was so STUPID! I have never felt such horrible embarrassment in my life. I guess I got what I deserved, because by the end of the day my nickname was fish lips ( due to a rumor the blonde girl probably started about my breath smelling like fish). And you know the absolute worst part? Apparently Ash had known I liked him, and him and his frieds would play a game to see who could catch me staring at him first. Safe to say my status at the bottom of the popularity totem pole was now permenant.

This is not a real story nor do I encourage what Katy did haha

Embarrassing things, I’ve done a lot. More than I can count.

“Juliette Gordon Low will be on the penny.” My mom said.

**“But she’s dead.” I said, “She can’t stand on a penny!” **

Embarrassing things, I’ve done a lot. More than I can count.

“Hand me the mayo please.” My mom had said.

**I handed her the mustard and said, “I almost gave you the mayo.” **

Embarrassing things, I’ve done a lot. More than I can count.

I got an iPad for Christmas right after getting an Apple pen. “But now I have two Apple pens!” I had thought.

“Read the side- Generation 9 iPad!” My dad had told me.

Embarrassing things, I’ve done a lot. More than I can count.

Riley was sitting at her desk working on the teacher’s math problems when she heard a whisper from the corner of the room.

“Hey, Peter,” Dylan whispered, “tell Riley that you’ll let her hold your hand if she eats a tide pod.” Riley’s cheeks burned in humiliation. It had been bad enough that her crush was only one-sided and that Peter had turned her down, but Dylan’s words stung, ripping the scab off her newly-mended heart. Gritting her teeth, she tried to focus on math again, but Dylan’s words repeated themselves in her brain. She didn’t hear Peter’s response, and she didn’t want to know it either.

At lunch, Riley met up with her friend Kat. “Hey, Riles.”

“Hey.”

Kat frowned, “Why the long face? Did something happen?” After glancing around to make sure neither of the boys were within earshot, Riley repeated what she had overheard in class that day. “WHAT?! He said THAT?! How dare he!”

“Kat, please, we don’t need to make a fuss about—“

“Yes we do! I’m going over there to give Dylan a piece of my mind!”

“No-“ Riley tried to protest, but it was too late. Kat was already marching over to the table where Dylan and Peter were sitting. Riley slumped in her chair and hid her burning face in her hands. Could this day get any worse?