Now I’m Pissed

There is a primary teacher at my school who has a very challenging student.

We'll call him Floyd.

Floyd torments other students before class, during class, at recess and lunch, and after school. He's just a pill, as my mother would say.

His teacher always shares stories about what Floyd has done each day and she shared one with me yesterday.

Except… I'm not going to tell you that story.

I'm going to tell you what happened as a result.

You see, Floyd was up to his usual high-jinx yesterday and a gaggle of kids came up to the teacher to complain about how they'd been wronged in some fashion or another by him at lunch. Instead of hearing each case on the docket individually, she gave each student in her class a piece of paper and instructed them to explain the problems they had in a letter to her.

Most of the letters were filled with stories of ketchup packets and nasty language being thrown about by Floyd.

Until Robby's letter, that is.

It went a little something like this:

Dear Teacher,

My lunch went fine. I ate everything on my tray and cleaned up when I was done. I know that you are looking for people who had problems with Floyd but I did not have any problems with Floyd. The only problem I had was when I went to the bathroom I accidently peed on my pants.

Love,

Robby