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April 13, 2005
Algebra
I never really got into algebra. -- I mean, I liked it and all, I just never liked it that much. Not like Ernie.
Ernie sat next to me in algebra, something I wasn't exactly happy about. Ernie was a little disgusting. He could regularly be seen popping his zits with such intensity that it required him to close his eyes, use both hands and turn red and shake. When he wasn't doing that he picking his nose and dining on its contents. Unless of course snot was already 86ed for the day. That's when he would use the part of the pen cap meant to clip on your pocket to force a sneeze. He would stick the pen cap up his nose until he reached what seemed to his audience - because that's what we were. Watching with amazement that someone could not only do the things he did, but do them with apparently no shame surrounded by dozens of peers - to be a state of ecstacy, then quickly remove in preparation of a sneeze that would send fresh mucus out to cover his hands. Mucus he would promptly lick up.
Algebra wasn't all bad, however. Our teacher often gave us time in class to work on our assignments. He'd teach the lesson and afterward give us our assignment with about 15 minutes left in class. Then he'd sit at his desk nestled inside a large bay window where he'd take our questions, should we have any.
One day a question popped into my mind: "What the hell is he doing?" It was prompted by Ernie's incessant movements in the corner of my eye. At first I thought it must have been scratching. But it lasted too long. There was no way any itch needed that much scratching. So I looked up to see what he was doing.
No way! He is not doing what I think he's doing. It's just a really bad itch. I turned my head back and focused on my work.
But he kept it up. He wasn't stopping.
I was sure of what he was doing. Or was I?
I leaned forward to my friend in the desk ahead of mine. "What's Ernie doing?" I had to tell him in the form of a question because there still was a slight chance Ernie wasn't masturbating through his pants in the middle of class. Sure, he'd jab a pencap far enough up his nose to force himself to sneeze so he could eat the mucus off his hands, but masturbate? In class? That's over the line. Isn't it?
"He is."
"'He is' what?"
"He's jerking off."
"That's what I thought." I said that to no one at all. It was directed at my friend in in the seat ahead, but he was leaning too far forward to hear. He was telling the guy in the seat ahead of his.
Word spread like wildfire. Within a minute the guy behind me leaned forward to tell me. "I know." I whispered back as I glanced over at Ernie, still furiously rubbing himself through his pants.
He must have felt our stares. We had to stare. We couldn't even admit to, even on occasion, masturbating in private, and here Ernie was pleasuring himself in front of us all. He must have felt our stares because he covered himself up with his jacket. Which, unluckily for him, made it all too obvious to the rest of us.
His jacket slipped off his lap, and he picked it up without missing a beat. He was on a mission. He was focused.
So focused that he didn't notice when the guy behind him looked up and over Ernie's shoulder to see what his neighbor had told him Ernie was doing.
Only the bell stopped him. And not a second too soon. Our teacher got up from his desk to see what the commotion was. He would have seen us all whispering to each other, giggling, staring and pointing at Ernie fervantly minding his own business.
"Can you believe Ernie?"
"What the fuck is wrong with him?"
From that point on Ernie rarely surprised us. Disgusted us, yes. But rarely surprised us
Posted by calculatoronfire at April 13, 2005 11:59 PM
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Comments
Damn I miss ernie and his bitch tit. I wonder if his brother grew a nose? I can just imagine what he is doing today...serial peeping tom?
Posted by: nick at April 14, 2005 10:44 AM