When I was younger, I went to an all girl catholic school to both start and finish my high school years. I’m not sure if this is sort of a norm for catholic schools or if it’s just us, but our school was very focused on music. By the ninth grade, we were studying western music (grew up in Asia so we studied Asian music for the seventh and eighth grade) and were focusing on the characteristics of sacred music (church music, basically).
When we were studying the music of the Renaissance period, our teacher love, love, loved to make us watch videos- specifically french and latin opera videos. Now, our music subject was the last subject of the day, and it came after P.E., so you can imagine what a bunch of exhausted ninth graders would do in an air conditioned room with the lights dimmed and the whole period discussion-free.
Our music teacher, however, was not okay with us sleeping (doesn’t matter if you slept intentionally or unintentionally) through the opera videos we so badly did not understand (none of us spoke french or latin, except for the ones who studied it outside school) so to get us to wake up from our sleep, he would slowly creep up on the students who were sleeping, then, without hesitation, loudly bang two huge gongs in front their faces continuously. Sometimes the students would fall off their chairs, sometimes they would just wake up, but either way, out teacher got his point across.
Here comes the revenge.
Our P.E. teacher made us go overtime to train for an inter-school competition, and took up 20 minutes worth of our music period, so we were 20 minutes late for music class. When we got to our music room, guess what we found? Our music teacher, fast asleep on the teacher’s desk, with an opera video playing from his laptop.
Of course, we thought about just waking him up peacefully so we could calmly discuss a lesson, but hey, this was music class, and what do we usually do to people who fall asleep?
And so, all of us, 45 of us, grabbed any loud instrument we could find in the room (guitars plugged into amps, gongs, cymbals, maracas, flutes, recorders, a ton of different drums- you damn name it) and circled around the teacher’s table.
Then, all at once, we started randomly playing whatever the f*ck we could with whatever the hell instrument was in our hands, and watched with satisfaction as our teacher loudly squealed and fell out of his chair.
Teedles to say, we felt pretty good about it– even to this day.
It's not wise to be rude to your ride to the airport.
This was around Thanksgiving 2015.
My family gets together at a rural-ish cabin. I had agreed to give my younger sister a ride to the airport on Sunday, since she was on a short break from college. and had important classes and tests to get back to after Thanksgiving. I’d also agreed to lock up the cabin for my parents, since they had to leave on Saturday to get back to pressing work matters.
During the post-dinner bullshitting on Thanksgiving, my sister decided to give me sh*t about the bad couple months I’d had. A long-term girlfriend of mine and I had broken up and the company I worked for folded. This went beyond normal sibling sh*t-flinging, including her saying something to the effect of “Who’d date or hire a worthless failure loser like you anyway, b*tch? Your girlfriend was probably f*cking your boss and dumped you both when she learned you were both failures.”
She was called out on her crude remarks by several family members, but refused to apologize. I seemingly let it slide. I had plenty of emergency funds, had a few job prospects lined up (was hired shortly after and got a nice salary bump, actually) and was okay with being single. Her vehemence was out of left field though, and uncalled for.
Sunday morning, I waited for her in the kitchen with a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Hey, Heather.” I said when she entered the kitchen. “Wanna apologize for your sh*tty comments the other night?”
she laughed. “About your being a d*ckless failure? Nope. Now let’s get going I have a flight to catch.”
“Fair enough!” I responded, and poured myself a double, then knocked it back.
“What the f*ck are you doing?” she screamed. “*I have a plane to catch!”
“You sure do!” I responded, cheerfully. I paused, and repeated the pour-and-slam. “Well, f*ck, it looks like I’ve had too much to drink to drive! I guess we’ll have to wait until you’re f*cking civil, won’t we?”
She pulled put her phone and screwed with it for a few seconds before I said: “There aren’t any cab companies or ubers around here. I’m your only ride. So you can apologize for being a b*tch, or you can miss your flight.”
I grinned and took another shot.
In short: I got absolutely sh*tfaced, she missed her flight, missed some tests, and her GPA plummeted. It was f*cking hilarious.
Guys, do you realise we are gonna spend at least 2 weeks without knowing if Juvia is really dead or maybe she can survive? Because I don’t think we’re gonna have an “answer ” to all of this drama in chapter 500.