Friday, our school had its annual Beach Day. Everyone was encouraged to dress up in beach clothing. With unusual backbone and disregard for conformity, I decided to refrain from dressing up as if I were beaching it with my G’s. Instead, I bore all black clothing with a tie added for extra effect. It was cool-looking. And as my alter ego, I brought my plush Rafael doll - the red Ninja Turtle, for those who were kids in the early nineties. He was dressed in a lei and spirit ribbon. The contrast between the two of us was beautiful.
Fast forward to seventh. The day was almost over and no one had made fun of me being all Goth and scary-like. In fact, people liked it. I liked it. It was great. I set Rafael down by my backpack, not a worry in my mind as I goofed around, waiting gay-heartedly for the pep rally that accompanies these sorts of things.
Then a friend of my sister - sort of a friend of mine, by extension - snatched Rafael and began abusing him unspeakably. I got miffed and tried my best to return him to my safe, loving arms. He began flinging him about like a morning star and making him perform auto-fellatio. I was getting mad - I could spit hornets from my nostrils at that stage, but I was containing it well enough to remain coherent and collected.
Finally, the fellow returned Rafael to me at the stern admonishment of the teacher, who was just as annoyed as I was. I’m still quite ticked at his willful abuse of an object of such value to me and his provoking me to lose face by losing my cool.
So, I have developed a plan to get back at him. You see, the seventh period teacher allows swearing in her class, as long as we deposit in the Swear Jar. It’s like a bank account for bad lanugage, and I’ve never made use of it yet, since my vocabulary is far too developed to fall back on such vulgarities. I have twenty-five cents lined up for my plan - enough for two and a half curses. I call on you, Dopers, to help me make my words count. The time for ‘saving face’ is over. Now is the time to employ imprecations of gratuitous acerbity! Let the profanity fly!
Telcontarstorm, That reminds me of my LA class in grade 6. We read Romeo and Juliet and our teacher encouraged us to use whatever horrible elizabethan language swears we could find in the book , needless to say that when we got pissed off thumbs were bitten ( I pray you’ve either read the book or seen the movie, if not I’m sure this post sounds odd)
I’m with Tel on this one. Why pay when you can insult him…and then rub it in by making him run for a dictionary. I’m no jarbaby, but here are a few possibilities:
Suggest that the thoughtless lout attempt aerial coitus with a continuously axially reoriented and linearly displaced toroidal pastry. (*Tell 'im to take a flying fuck at a rolling donut.)
Call him an execrable piece of offal, from which dung beetles flee in revulsion.
Ask if anyone has yet bothered to inform his parents that incest is as inadvisable as it is illegal.
In the same vein, ask which side of his family included the mentally disabled sheep.
You get the picture. Make sure that you can outrun or outfight him…or at least get a head start while he’s consulting Webster’s.
Oh, yes, curse words are commonplace…but a well-planned assault with the wonderful language that is English…they will be stunned at your superior wit.
I suggest you search for Cervaise’s rant against telemarketers in the Pit. That is the funniest bit of dissection of a poster’s argument that I have ever read.
“Hie thee to the lowest reaches of the maw of Hades, harlot!”
I save twenty-five cents, my dignity, impress the ladies and exact revenge. It’s a win-win-win-win situation. That pleaseth me as does the first day of autumn, when the leaves falleth and the weather becometh ever-milder with the nights. But I digress and must thus hurry off to the Pit, that I may compare the methods of jarbabyj and Cervaise and make a balanced judgement of the two esteemed posters…