F Word

My son plays Scribblenauts, this game where you write a word and the cartoon equivalent appears on the screen.  He can battle dragons and zombies, etc.  The game has a remarkable and terrifying vocabulary server, so you type things like “serial killer” or “pedophile” and they appear onscreen, ready to wreak havoc.  Tonight he made a trash can and then trash to throw in it.  He’s prosaic.  I helped him type “paper” and ” tin can” but he wanted “fish skeleton”‘, which pleased me, because it’s nice to know that cartoons still stick to the requisite trash can contents they did when I was a kid. No one has actually seen a fish skeleton in a trashcan, just like we’ve never seen someone carrying a bag of groceries from the market that has a baguette and a head of romaine sticking out the top, even though that’s what everyone in the movies buys, only and always.  Scribblenauts, impossibly, does not have a fish skeleton within its matrix, so it dumped a human skeleton on the screen.  My son threw it in the trash and felt it was a reasonable substitute.

Anyway, I got cussed out at work today in the best way possible.  I don’t normally talk about work, because I don’t want to be unemployed, but today was fun, so I’ll hope for the best.  I was checking my mail during first period and a student walked by, looked at me, and as calmly as she’d be if she was checking the weather said ” I hate the people in the fucking office.”

I said that was too bad because that was where we were going.

She disagreed.

“I’m not fucking going there.”

Twice, so she so was.

“You can’t just say that and go.  Come one.”

And it began.  She looked at me and said “Fuckety-fuck-de-fuckety-fuck-fuck-fuck.”

Earlier in the week, I’d overheard this kid tell another student that it was “Noon-forty,” so I wasn’t really sure what I was dealing with (fun fact, it was actually 10:30 at that point…).  She was walking away.

“What’s your name?” I asked, and I prayed she would say it, knew she would say it.

“My name’s Fuckety Fuck.”

Hallelujah.

Never did catch her, but she cussed out her first period teacher and he brought her in.

Apparently this is a regular thing.  I never caught her name, but at least I know what she likes to be called.

Monday.

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