Someone pooped on my bag in 7th grade and it only got worse from there
I always like to start this story by telling people that, yes, it is 100% true. And someone pooping on my backpack wasnt even the worst part of it lol, buckle up yall.
Picture this.
You're 12 years old at a public school. If you've ever been to one, you know that you cant really be surprised by anything, but boy oh boy does it hit different when the "anything" happens to you.
In my school, we didn't switch rooms, we stayed in the same seat all day and, mind you, my class back then had like about forty students, so needless to say, that shit was packed lol. There was barely enough space to breathe, let alone store anything, so I used to shove my backpack directly under my chair so I wouldn't have to ask the person behind me to move every five seconds so i could grab a book.
It was just another day until i got back from lunch. I sat down and as soon as i leaned back, this funky smell started to rise up.
So, me being 12, my first thought was: either the kid behind me is farting like crazy, or he literally pooped himself.
My teacher noticed me doing the "lord please kill me" face and asked me what was wrong, so i told her that someone was farting up the room and i was about to pass out from the mustard gas that was being released directly into my nostrails. She then gave the entire class a 10 minute lecture on "fart etiquette", talking about how we need to ask to be excused when we feel the need to fart, yada yada yada.
Next was history class, and i remember this like it was yesterday, i reached down to grab a book and oh boy.
Have yall ever driven past a farm where the cow manure is so thick you can literally taste the cow's last meal? Now, imagine that smell, trapped in a 90 degree classroom, concentrated into a fine, artisanal paste, and fermented under my chair for over 5 hours.
That shit (no pun intended) wasnt just a smell yall, it was a deadly weapon. A biohazard.
I yanked the bag up so fast i nearly backflipped out of my chair. Im staring at it in a trance of pure horror. why is there dookie on my bag.
I ran to the teacher waving this stinky bag around, trying to explain something that even I wasn’t sure of. He looked like he wanted to quit his job on the spot. He sent me to the cleaning lady, who handed me a single HUGE, black garbage bag.
Yall, i literally stuffed my LIFE into that garbage bag and had to walk home looking like santa the garbage man. Did i mention this was a public school? Oh yeah, i was known as the poopy girl for like 2 whole weeks.
Im walking down the street with my friend, who is laughing her head off, thinking the humiliation was finally over when i sudenlly feel my hands get light.
The bag ripped.
All my stuff spilled directly towards the street drain.
Yall, at this point i could literally feel myself turning into joker (2019). like this was literally my villain origin story.
So, i called my mom. She shows up, puts my stuff in a new bag and we get home. The smell was so unbearable that she left the bag outside on this type of "porch" that we had back then, planning to scrub it the next day. We couldn't really afford a new one, so even though i BEGGED, she wouldnt budge. Operation "save the bag" was the goal.
I wake up the next morning.
"mom wheres my bag?"
No like, seriously. WHERE IS MY BAG?
Yall i kid you not, i promise you im not lying, someone stole my fawking dookie bag. They stole a bag of fermented poop and all our household cleaning supplies and a few brooms. Somewhere out there, a thief thought they hit the jackpot, got home, and realized they had committed a felony for a bag of 7th grade waste.
TL;DR: Someone pooped on my bag at school, it fermented under my chair for hours, cleaning lady gave me a garbage bag, the bag ripped in the street, and then a thief stole the dookie bag.