Every now and then, when all my friends are offline on Discord, and I'm feeling a bit alone or sad, I like to look back on the school days and think, you know, wasn't it really that bad? Well, I guess, school sucks. But the ability to socialize and meet with new people made up for it, right? But then my brain gets slapped with a tsunami of memories. The ongoing, and that asylum, they call it high school. Attracities. Not even the Geneva Convention could have saved us. This doesn't mean they go something like, uh, kid gets bullied. Teachers don't care. Kid finally fights bully back, and then teachers get enraged because of it. I know we all laugh at it from time to time, because, you know, we think it's funny, but it's not a joke. This actually happens. I don't know if your school is the same, but at our school, you could tell the teacher a principal a thousand times. Hey, this guy's harassing me. I need help. Please, please help. They'd be like, well, uh, he's saying that he's not. Yeah, that guy, you know, the one that's been in five fights since school started, and we're only on the third day of school. Yeah, he's saying that he's not harassing you, so sure we're against his. Uh, I can't really do anything about it, or they look like I'm picking favorites. And then when that person starts a fight with you, and you try to defend yourself, suspend it. Doesn't matter how you defended yourself. He punched you, and you knocked them out cold to stop them. Suspended. Well, was he batching your school repeatedly across the floor, and you happen to push them off you for 0.8 seconds? Suspended. I even bet my entire YouTube paycheck, which, as you guys know, is about like $7. That if someone brought a toy gun to school, it was trying to have everyone in the school. A toy gun, that's right. A toy gun, if they brought a toy gun to school. That's right, YouTube. Can I get my money now? Can I get my money from my video now? A toy gun. Well, let's see you manage to subdued this perpetrator. Uh, you probably think you're about to get in the war. It's some metal of honor. Those dreams would be crushed the next day when you find out you're suspended for defending yourself. And you think that'd be the worst part about school, right? But uh, no. The worst part about school was how dog shit the restrooms were. Oh my god. Not because the bathrooms were dirty and people were pissing all over the floor. Now, and that's just some stuff you gotta deal with, uh, whatever you use a public restroom. What the problem was is that there were these no life thugs lined up outside of the bathroom, blocking the entrance, like there was some sort of, uh, the defender of the stalls, warding, warding of the urinals. Like, I really wonder how cool those kids thought they were. Being an, uh, you know, an inconvenience to people that wanted to empty their bladder. That must have been like, uh, the peak of their existence. Well, that's still not the worst part. Sex, drugs, violence. You can film a Hollywood movie. Now, once you paid the fee of squeezing through the herd of no lives to get inside the restroom, you can see people smoking, people fighting, getting jumped, dudes wearing the bathroom, getting their dick sucked by some girl with no father. And as violent and crude as it was, it was also fascinating. You know, anytime I needed to piss, it was like getting a, uh, free 30-second short story before going off to my classes. And even then, that still wasn't the worst part about the restrooms. You see, there was this unspoken rule of the restrooms. Don't take a shit. Only reason I knew this rule is because I'd never seen anyone dropping meatballs in the bathroom. Now, not once in my high school career. So that's when I followed. Every time I used the restroom, it was to pee. Any time I had to take a shit, no matter what point in the day, I waited until I got home from school. Only once. And I never make that mistake again. Only once that I succumb to, uh, to shit in the bathroom. It was around third period. And I'm not sure why, but my stomach was absolutely killing me. So I asked the teacher, hey, can I use the restroom? And she was fine with it because, you know, class was almost over. Uh, she knew I wasn't the type of kid to start trouble or skip class, just to skip class. So I go in the bathroom, head and twist stall, and I'm just, I'm just dropping eight pups. I'm just, sorry. Meanwhile, I'm emptying my bows. I'm thinking, I wonder why they say not to shit in these stalls. Is something wrong with them? Are they like STDs on the toilet seat? Somebody shit in the bathroom. Okay, um, I think I see why. Now, I don't know who the guy was, but he kept on shouting and laughing. And he kept saying it for a while until he finally left the bathroom. And I thought that was it. It's over. Whoa. I mean, uh, that's not so bad. Then I hear a damn war horn go off. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Wait a minute. That ominous war horn can only mean that somebody's shitting in the bathroom. Somebody's shitting in the bathroom. Ain't no way, let's go check it out, y'all. I hear hundreds of footsteps, thousands, maybe. Students and teachers closing in on the bathroom, and what's the rent on one another? Oh, somebody's shitting in the bathroom, we gotta investigate. Somebody really have the audacity to be used to bathroom the way we're supposed to be used. That is a blast of us. That is a blast of us. People like him behind bars, better fathom. Behind a tombstone, they get closer and closer until I hear a knock on the stone. Open up! Open up! What are you guys gonna do to me? Relax, relax, man. We just wanna kill you, man. We just wanna kill you.