Thursday, 7 April 2016

Attack Of The Eleven Year Olds

I suppose the only thing scarier than getting chased by a stray dog is being faced with eleven year old girls. Girls with such fire and untamed mouths, they could burn cities in a single breath. And it's not just their bad breath.

There's a pathway near my school. A sort of tared line between two small woods. The pathway itself is pretty small and winds awkwardly as it progresses, but it could probably fit 4 people. 3 if they're doing that annoying thing where they walk in a horizontal line and stop everyone else from getting past. Which, to my constant dismay, people often tend to do on the way home. On most occasions it's the 3 or 4 people. On the dreaded other occasions it's the huddle of eleven year old hell dwellers. Also referred to as:

  • The preteen association of irritable idiots
  • The power league of arsewads
  • The day mares
  • The alliance of adolescent tosks
  • The confederation of four foot mini beasts
  • The not so metaphorical pains in the backside
  • The hoodlums
  • The backstreet bad'uns
  • And my favorite- The mini mafia.
But I guess I should explain.

There are certain laws one must follow. These are unspoken but understood. Accepted and abided by. And they are followed to the best of one's ability. No exceptions. No arguments.
These are the laws of motion. The laws state that when walking upon a pathway in a group, said group should never at any point pause for a longer than 10 seconds and or arrange themselves in a line. This simply to prevent the tale I'm about to tell you.

I do not like the later bus. I do what it takes to make the first on almost all occasions. I do however purposely pace myself to avoid it at times. It's notorious for being the most populated of buses after school ends, and nothing sucks more than being surrounded by a crap ton of humans just when you thought you'd escaped the suckers.

I probably should have left earlier that day. Or perhaps just early enough to avoid the mass of eleven year old bodies stretching the entire width of the path. But I didn't. That is when they attacked. They lunged and tore away at my coat with claws the size of spears. I ran, dropped my bag and my friend. I had to outrun them. Or at least just her. And I did. But I never saw her again.

The moral of the story guys is that you probably shouldn't ever think that  my posts are going to end in anything substantial or life changing. Or helpful for that matter. I should, for legal reasons, also state that they're not a 100 percent true. But umm, I guess this was fun, right? No? I suppose not. I'll see myself out.