|Now available for Children's Parties (source KHOU 11)|
Of course my first thought was: WTF? and then my second thought was: Seriously, WTF? and then my third thought was: OK, I can totally see how this could happen.
Indulge me as we go through my made up day of this middle school teacher:
She arrives in her room and the day's just begun, but she's already exhausted. Of course she is. She has to teach middle school all day! She drags herself into the classroom and she puts on a phony smile and tries to start the day on a good note: "Good morning class! Everyone ready to learn?"
Everyone sort of groans at her and slumps at their desks. Suddenly, Billy, one of the class troublemakers whips up his head and, with a gleam in his eye, says, "Good morning, Ms. Smith. Did you remember that it's John's birthday today?"
"What? It is? Well, happy birthday, John," she says. She thinks, Shoot. I love John. He's one of my favorite students. He's a good kid who helps out a lot, not like that asshole, Billy. I should have gotten him a birthday gift. I can't believe I forgot. Then she turns to John, "I'm sorry I forgot, John. I would have gotten you a great gift if I had remembered."
"Isn't there anything you can do for him, Ms. Smith?" Billy inquires, with a shit-eating grin on his stupid face.
"I don't think so, Billy."
"There isn't anything at all that you could do for John? A young, attractive woman like you, Ms. Smith?" Billy pushes.
Hold up. Did Billy just call me 'young' and 'attractive'? I'm 42 freaking years old and I already feel 50. I think he needs glasses or something. What is he talking about?
"Billy, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do, Ms. Smith. Surely you have a talent you could share with John."
A talent. Hmm ... do I have any talents I could share? Wait. I've always been told that I am a decent dancer. Shit, who am I calling 'decent'? I can out-twerk Miley. "Well, I'm a pretty good dancer ..."
"Oh I bet you are, Ms. Smith. You have a dancer's body."
Hell yeah I do.
And then the whole class starts yelling, "Yeah! You should dance for him, Ms. Smith!"
Hmm ... I don't know.
"Dance! Dance! Dance!"
Shit. I've never been good at resisting peer pressure, even though these kids are 25 years younger than me and I'm the authority figure in this room their chants are like a siren call for me . . .
"Give him a lap dance," Billy yells.
A whaaaa --?
Before you know it, someone's queued up L'il Wayne on their iPhone and boom, Ms. Smith starts grinding on John.
She loses herself in the music and starts an inner monologue:
Oh, look at me. I've still got it! Hell yeah, I've still got it! Oh wait. Damn, this hurts my knees. Who cares? I bet I look fine doing this. Hey! Is someone recording this? Oh well, I just hope they get my good side and I don't have a double chin when I make my "O" face. Listen to those boys hooting and hollering for me. Maybe they'll start throwing money at me. I make jackshit as a teacher and I could stand a couple more dollars. Maybe if I shake my money maker a bit harder it will loosen those Velcro wallets. Even a lunch card is worth something, amiright? Oh crap. What am I doing? I'm sticking my boobs in a child's face. This isn't right. I need to stop this right now. Stop it, Felicia. Stop--oh shit. Did he just slap my ass? Oh my God, he did! Do it again. Oh, he just did it again. He just slapped my ass! My husband doesn't even do that anymore. OK, he's still slapping my ass. That kinda hurts, John. Damn, John's got a bit of a booty fetish I think. I'm just glad I wore my Spanx today. Alright, it's time for a big move. Watch this kids. This is how we did it in the 80s! Oh, crap, my back. I should have stretched first. I am going to pay for this later. I'm going to be on the couch all night icing my lower back. I just heard someone say my dancing is hot. Hell yeah it's hot, boys. Take it all in. I am a mature woman who is still a sexy beast. Roar. Ow. How much longer is this damn song? I'm getting winded. I just need a break. My damn knees are giving out. I bet I still look good working it on my knees though. I am so tired. I can't go on. I just need to put my head down ... oh fuck, that's his crotch. I'm going to jail.
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