The second story has a good ending.
Back in January, my school paper announced that for Valentines day you could write a love letter to someone, and they would put it in the paper for a few dollars.
Well, two of my friends think that a love note from one guy to another would be funny. They wrote a love note from [friend 1] to [friend 2]. I saw this going on, and noticed a spelling error in [friend 2]'s name. I corrected it, and things moved on.
Valentines day arrives, and we get the paper. There it is, 3rd column, 4th from the bottom. [friend 1] laughed and thought it was funny. No problem. [friend 2], who, mind you had the love note written to HIM, didn't. He proceeded to cuss me out, and threaten to beat the crap out of me.
No this is puzzling. He wants to kill me still to this day, and even though he knows that it was the other two guys who planned it all, I'm the one to blame.
Since the beginning of the schoolyear, my close friend, [friend], started talking trash on me. No problem, it will pass on soon. It didn't. I took his crap for months, in Jazz, which is my 5th period he pissed me and many people off routinely with his spitwads.
Now, my story on why I don't get hit with spitwads anymore.
One day, in 5th, [friend] was shhooting spitwads, again. We had a sub, so we got to sit around. Some of the older guys got bored and stacked risers to about 8 feet high. I was sitting up there with another friend, and below me and him was [friend] and his spitwad buddy. This period was exceptionally bad for me, and when he blamed me for the spitwads, and I got hit in my balls with a drumstick for his spitwads. I was very pissed, and when he shot a spitwad up there and it landed in my mouth, I decided that this was going to end right here. I grabbed a tuba mouthpeice, a 5~ pound chunk of metal, looked down, and threw.
By some funny miracle the mouthpeice hit him directly in the balls.
My good friend Kirby laughed at him, so [friend] threw a drumstick at him. Kirby shoved him on the ground, and the sub told them to quit rough-housing.
Back in January, my school paper announced that for Valentines day you could write a love letter to someone, and they would put it in the paper for a few dollars.
Well, two of my friends think that a love note from one guy to another would be funny. They wrote a love note from [friend 1] to [friend 2]. I saw this going on, and noticed a spelling error in [friend 2]'s name. I corrected it, and things moved on.
Valentines day arrives, and we get the paper. There it is, 3rd column, 4th from the bottom. [friend 1] laughed and thought it was funny. No problem. [friend 2], who, mind you had the love note written to HIM, didn't. He proceeded to cuss me out, and threaten to beat the crap out of me.
No this is puzzling. He wants to kill me still to this day, and even though he knows that it was the other two guys who planned it all, I'm the one to blame.
Since the beginning of the schoolyear, my close friend, [friend], started talking trash on me. No problem, it will pass on soon. It didn't. I took his crap for months, in Jazz, which is my 5th period he pissed me and many people off routinely with his spitwads.
Now, my story on why I don't get hit with spitwads anymore.
One day, in 5th, [friend] was shhooting spitwads, again. We had a sub, so we got to sit around. Some of the older guys got bored and stacked risers to about 8 feet high. I was sitting up there with another friend, and below me and him was [friend] and his spitwad buddy. This period was exceptionally bad for me, and when he blamed me for the spitwads, and I got hit in my balls with a drumstick for his spitwads. I was very pissed, and when he shot a spitwad up there and it landed in my mouth, I decided that this was going to end right here. I grabbed a tuba mouthpeice, a 5~ pound chunk of metal, looked down, and threw.
By some funny miracle the mouthpeice hit him directly in the balls.
My good friend Kirby laughed at him, so [friend] threw a drumstick at him. Kirby shoved him on the ground, and the sub told them to quit rough-housing.
