Remember that old locker that you never see anyone else using?
You hear a lot of shit in high school. Good grades equals a good life. You’ll never amount to anything if you don’t succeed in high school. High school’s just a stepping stone. Truth is written by the victors. But if you listen to the right people and you’re around a corner at the right time, you might hear something more interesting than the jargon the teacher’s continuously spew like machines . . .
The back hall, you know, where the classes have all been cancelled and there’s drifts of dust in the corners, well, there’s a locker back there that does things to people. Bad things. Don’t mess with the lockers back there, man, they’re bad news . . .
The boy’s bathroom on the second floor is haunted. Yeah, random flushing and shit like that. Some stupid news story from way back got around to some of the students – somebody started saying that the kid was killed by a couple teachers. It was much more popular than he slipped and smashed his skull open. Just happened to be in some sort of geometric pattern . . .
You know that new bio teacher? The really hot one? Well, I was doing some stuff for the Alumnus club and I found this teacher from like ’72 who looks just like her. She’s got some weird displays up, too. I mean, the skeleton and human anatomy displays are just freaky . . .
There’s that one business teacher, you know that one, that anal retentive . . . professor . . . that’s always got that look on her face of perfect tranquility, no matter what. Well, I knew this guy last year, real cut up, that tried to mess with her. Just a little prank, nothing serious, but with that just damned frozen look on her face, man, I was just scared for him. She gave him detention without even blinking. He went, of course, but man, I swear to God, he came back different. After that afternoon, he generally faded out. But that bitch is still around.
More to come . . .
I hear that the Black lodges use Career Guidance Councillers to recruit potential adepts. This is why so many people disappear after highschool. Adepts get recruited and then they’re given a chance to get revenge on those that snobbed them.
You should never go to a reunion because one of the adepts might still be hunting there.
Dont even get me started on Alumni associations.
If you put a joint in the 4th lower locker from the right (combination 23-4-21) the next day it will be ash and your teacher will be sick for your next test.
The janitor sees demons, but only if soused on grain alcohol; slip him a pint, and he’ll spot them for you, and provide advance warning.
That, or he’ll take his payoff from them, while they do their dirty work.
Buy in early, often, and with enthusiasm, is all I can say…
The, of course, there’s the horrid Icy Hot Jock Strap of death. Athletes leaving their equipment unattended for a weekend when a full moon aligns with Jupiter and Saturn perfectly comes back to equipment that looks normal but is freezing to wear. Cup-holders are special – they feel like someone rubbed Icy Hot on the inside, with the same effects.
And then there’s the old school bus. You know the one with the crashed in engine block.
If you hang around the shed at night you’ll here the cries of the children that were killed on that October morning.
Who could forget the sounds in the chemlab, where the prenatal pigs are kept?
Might sound like a squealing, but some say it’s the sounds of the recent missing kids, begging to be laid to rest.
Wonder how they wound up like that?
This is nothing. When they were laying the cement for the new school hall (the old one became a netball court), a pregnant teacher aborted while crossing the walk-way. Her foetus mewled as it slipped out of her hands off the walk-way and into the liquid concrete.
This was fifteen years ago.
There are these cracks that open up and close as they move – like an invisible shark’s fin in Jaws.
And if you’re alone, noises squeak out from the moving cracks.
And all fathers bleed stigmatically from their dicks if the crack moves underneath them.
They still have assembly in the netball courts.
No one knows who the father of the foetus was, but a couple of freaked students have had to led away during the years.
Does anyone know why there’s all this scribbling carved into the desks at the back of Room 203 in that weird language? My geek friend thinks its Linear A script.
Or how about that weird foreign exchange student? You know, the one with the weird skin tone, facial features or accent that don’t seem to match with any country in the world? He’s got some sort of tattoo on his back, but the only people who ever saw it was Jeffery Balmer, Yeah, the kid who ate his parents, that dude.
Dude, you know the Korean dude who always plays Everquest and keeps aceing everything? I saw him going up to his locker one day, and crawling into it. There was a green field on the other side, and I thought I could see a horse. WTF?
Can’t forget about student government (if you can call it that). The last few years have seen the elections for ASB get more and more violent. This year, there’s some new upstart going for the position. He wasn’t one of the really popular kids last year, he’s actually one of those losers who wear all black and smokes cheap cigarettes. Weird thing is, one of the 5 kids in the running has already been hospitalized with three forms of some weird cancer, another hasn’t been at school in a week, and a third has been arrested for rape.
You know those creepy old boarding schools in England that have late Victorian buildings for both the dorms and the classes? Those ones. I went to one called Laleham School in Margate, Kent, England.
First night I was there, I musta been ten, I couldn’t get to sleep – being away from mum and all that. So I creep out of bed and take a walk up to the toilets, where I see this ghost in the corridor of a soldier wearing a WWII gas mask. I sure forgot about going to the toilet and went straight back to the dorm.
Funnily enough, the next day I found out the school buildings were used as a military hospital in WWII.
And then there’s the basement under the science lab. Only the caretaker ever went down there. Not even the headmaster or the science teacher. It had these steps leading down to it from outside with an iron railing around it, and the door had cracked green paint that never got re-painted all five years while I was there.
During my time there we had two science teachers. The first one went down to the basement one time, and shortly afterwards he left his job and left teaching altogether. The new science teacher, Mr Scofield, did not make the same mistake as his predecessor.