Blood and snow

SNOW DAY! Wicked.
I get so childishly overexcited by snow. I run around giggling like a schoolgirl, grabbing huge handfuls of it and throwing it in the air, such is my joy at a fresh fall of the white stuff. So today, when I woke up, I glanced out the window and screamed "SNOW!". Well, I didn't actually scream it. I didn't actually say anything. But somewhere, in a small part of my mind, something yelled 'whoopee!' and clicked its heels. So, yeah. I would have run down the street yelling 'Merry Christmas Everyone,' and throwing out presents to all the little kiddies. Well, I would have. Several problems:

a: It's not Christmas.
b: I'm a tight git, and certainly don't plan on spending money on the pikey midgets who make up the children in my town.
3: I was wearing t-shirt and a skimpy pair of boxers SEXY DU SEX and, therefore, my pure amount of goddamn sexyness would have broken up half the marriages in town.
d: I... can't think of another reason.

Yep. I like snow. That's probably why I enjoyed the ending of Scarface so much. It looked like it was snowing on his desk! Yeah. That, and the fact he was machine-gunning his way through a small army of stinkin' colombians. Or something. I don't know, it was cool.

So yeah. Fastforward four hours. The start of first break. Man. Our school has a huge field behind it. And. it. Was. A. Fucking. Warzone. Mwahahhahahahhahaha. Seriously, that was funny. It was just a HUGE bundle of flying snowballs etc.

Then HCC came out to play.

For the MORONS who don't know everything about our school, HCC is the 'ahem' Pikey School next to ours, filled with, as Mr Fisher says, "shaved monkeys". There is a slight bit of friction between our two schools, which mostly happens at our shared fence. At SOME point, some bright spark thought it would be a good idea to dig a ditch between the two schools. It doesn't work. In fact, it just means that, instead of punching each other through the fence, our two schools wind each other up to explosion point. Like static electricity or something, I don't listen in Physics cos Clarkey is a TWAT.

Basically, as soon as HCC came into the picture, our ENTIRE SCHOOL rushed to the fence. It was like bloody Braveheart, the number of snowballs flying around. Well, there weren't any snowballs in Braveheart, to speak of, but there were quite a lot of arrows. Were there? I can't remember because, see, I wasn't paying much attention to Braveheart, really. In fact, I spent much of my time gazing at Mel Gibson's hairily manly legs and imagining somebody cutting them off halfway through the shins. Lets see you fight for freedom minus half a metre of flesh/bone matter, you australian/american prick. Mel Gibson is entirely too up himself nowadays. The Last Passion of Jesus, or whatever it was called. An entirely pointless film. Everyone knows he dies at the end. The ONLY way this film would ever be good was if Jesus, like, suddenly pulled out a machete and rips his arms from the cross. Pontius Pilate yells 'get him!' angrily, and a hoard of Roman Soldiers appear, swords drawn, but Jesus, in his manly style, picks up his cross and uses it like a hammer to NAIL those Roman bastards to the ground. Pilate growls... 'seems like I'd betta sort this bastard out myself,' and pulls out A SUBMACHINE GUN, and starts liberally spraying bullets at Jesus. But Jesus just calmly puts his hand out, matrix stylee, and the bullets stop/fall to the floor. Look, Jesus is the son of God, he can do ANYTHING, right? Then the American army comes and skylifts Jesus back to the safety of Miami to the girl, a New York Street Hooker with a heart of gold, he left behind. Happy Ending. THAT WOULD HAVE MADE THE FILM LIKE 1000000x better.

Anyway, so the HCC/HAMPTON war was broken up when Mr Flood strolled onto the pitch, looking small and self important, like a rooster with a bad suit, tooting an air horn as loudly as possible. We very slowly wandered into English. Well, all except Pete, who disappeared, before reappearing at the end of the lesson, waving a Pink Saturday Detention Slip. His reason? "I hit Mr Flood in the eye with a snowball!"
And, with those words, he earned my utmost respect for the rest of the day.

So, yeah. Fastforward another 4 hours. End of school.

It was like the staff room on the road outside our school. There were so many Hampton teachers hanging around. They KNEW there was gonna be a Hampton HCC confrontation. And there was A POLICEMAN. Lol rolf etc.

So me and Bertram (brother) were walking along the road towards the car of mother, when Mr Thomas appears at the end of the road, and yells at us. "Lads, could you get the, uh, Police. Please?"
So, being the upstanding citizen I am, I sloooooooooooooooooowly walked back down the road again, looking a bit embarassed, and asked the guy wearing the uniform, the hat and all the badges whether or not he was policeman. Turned out he was. So, after about two minutes discussion, we wandered up the road again. Then Mr Policeman started running down the road. Turned out somebody in my French Class had been thoroughly beaten by the pikeys. Hahahaha. No. It's not funny. He could have been seriously injured. *Sniggers*

Yeah, so that was that. I could say more, but really, you'd have to be a real sadcase to care.

Zombie killa: Snowballs