Shaddup Already!


Like the sands through the hourglass of time. . .

. . .these are the graffitis of our lives.

There's a certain melancholy nostalgia that comes with using the school restroom. The students change and all the teachers are left with are the memories of 6th graders who have gone on.

I read some of the graffiti and get a little misty-eyed.

Demon be cheatin on Brianna

Oh yeah, I remember her. Such a sweet girl and all that cheatin that been done to her *sniff, sniff*

Boyz to stay away frum

Awww, they never did get time to fill in that list *sniff, sniff*

Then I'm reminded that time marches on as I read the graffiti from my little 6th grade angles angels.

The girls this year fancy themselves as being quite fluent in effology. Unfortunately, they're not nearly as good as they think they are. As long as they stick to the old school usage, fuck those fuckers, they're fine, but when they decide to get fancy, it's all downhill.

For example, one student decided to pay homage to the F-bomb in the most elegant and historical form--cursive writing.

The thing with cursive is that it's so particular. You think you've written an

Only to realize that you forgot one little line

and now you've scribed in your best bathroom writing penmanship

You wanted to stand out among the fucks and you ended up with something completely innocuous. How shitty is that, I ask you, how shitty is that?

Then there is the phonetically challenged youngster who seems to have forgotten that when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking (okay, I know, not exactly accurate for this example, but I couldn't come up with a fancy rhyme about silent e's). And there amongst the myriad fucks lies a single fuke.

Oh what I wouldn't give to be able to get my red pen out and grade some of this graffiti. You know what I would tell them? Get a dictionary you little tucks or else you'll be fuked!

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