This was a response I wrote to this image on Facebook that a friend posted.
Yes, I learned this lesson in kindergarten. True story.
Girl went to the bathroom, dropped her ring in the shitter, flushed it and cried while the janitor pitifully tried to plunge it in case it'd come back up. (It didn't, but he tried.) She bawled for the rest of the class.
I had lots of rings back at home. My aunt had bought me a whole box of rings with different colored gemstones, all fake of course, but to a kid they looked super real. I put one inside one of those little plastic containers you get from supermarket vending machines, sealed it with one of my most precious Lion King stickers, and brought it to class the next day.
I presented her the ring and she was so happy. I felt really good about myself. Then later during class I feel a poke on my back, and this bitch, this fucking bitch is poking my back with a gray marker. SHE IS POKING MY FAVORITE MICKEY MOUSE SHIRT WITH A FUCKING MARKER. I tell her to stop it and she just laughs and turns around.
Fuck that little ungrateful bitch. And people wondered why all my friends in 1st grade were boys.
