Author's note: It's my childhood
The Maggie DiseaseI know I’ve been bouncing around through grades, from kindergarten to third grade was a huge jump, but from now on the stories will be closer in time. If anything funny happened between kindergarten and third grade, it’s been long forgotten. But after fifth grade I remember a lot more.
We got a new student in fourth grade, the year before when we got another. The new students name was J. Throughout fourth grade, he was a trouble maker. He was one of those morons that would distract the teacher constantly, and annoy the kids actually learning. As I said before, if you’re a teacher reading this and you don’t like reading negative feedback on other teachers, please put this away. However, if you are an idiot and you don’t like reading about other idiots, you may also put this away.
Still there…? Good.
See, I figure that whoever you are, you don’t think you’re an idiot. But that’s the beauty of idiots, nobody thinks they are one. I’m not saying YOU are, but you could be. It’s a possibility.
Well, I should probably get back to this story.
In fifth grade we got a new student. Her name was Maggie. She was by far, one of the most annoying people I have ever met, even now, writing this in the eleventh grade. Nobody else in the class liked her either, as she went out of her way to make everybody around her seem like a dumbass.
Now this is pretty terrible, but it was Mark who came up with the idea, and although looking back, it was a horrible idea; we all went along with it. We had this thing called “inoculation” which was when a friend pinches you on the shoulder after Maggie makes physical contact with you. This inoculation would save your life, and if you did not get inoculated, you would wither away and die later in the day.
Sometime later in the year, it was her birthday, and she brought cookie cake. Now, everybody wanted it, but everybody was scared to eat it since they would get the Maggie disease and die. I looked towards Marge, who looked back at me, pinched her cookie cake, and said “All clear.” Maggie told the teacher, and she yelled at us for about a half hour about “respect” and such. I wasn’t listening too much; I was enjoying my now edible cookie cake, as I worked my way around the pinch I made in it, which made it safe to eat. Maggie left at the end of the year, because she “Didn’t want to be around so many idiots.”
Nobody complained, probably because nobody in my class considered themselves an idiot. Besides, she didn’t really fit into our little group anyway.