Attack of the Teenage Doodler

NEWS ALERT———-An unspeakable crime has been committed inside a New York City School. The police were called. The perpetrator was arrested on the spot.

Murder? Rape? Armed robbery? Assault and Battery? Graffiti? Window breaking? Smoking in the bathroom? Gum chewing? Paper wad throwing? Spit Ball shooting? No, worse than all of those put together. A stone-cold criminal, cleverly disguised as a sweet-faced twelve year old, had to be handcuffed and hauled out of the school by Gotham’s finest. All the murderers, rapists and muggers infesting New York City watched in awe while the police marched the mastermind across the street to the precinct. Mafia hit men shrank back in fear. Crime bosses screamed like girls.

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It’s painful to even think about the crime, much less describe it: this seventh-grader attacked a desk. Attacked it with a magic marker. A green magic marker. She used the marker to write the following words (sensitive readers should skip to the next paragraph): “I love my friends Abby and Faith. Lex was here 2/1/10 :)” I remember this sort of atrocity from my earlier school days. People were always scribbling on desks.

Of course, such a crime was taken far less seriously then, so this is how it went down: Teacher: Are you writing on your desk? Student: Who, me? Teacher (peering at crime scene): “Dave and Boopsie 4-ever.” 2nd Student: Boopsie, you doofus. Dave’s going with Kelly. 1st Student: What-EV-er. He doesn’t even like Kelly.

Olivia told me Cynthia said they were about to break up. Teacher: Boopsie, if that’s not cleaned off by the end of class, you’ve got detention for all of next week. Student (whining): But it’s magic marker. Teacher (handing over a bottle of Windex): Sorry, you should have thought of that earlier. (Turns to class) Everybody, just a reminder: If you write on your desk, do it in pencil and erase it before the bell rings.

(To Boopsie) I really don’t think Dave’s all that much of a catch. He goes to sleep at his desk in fourth period. 1st Student, eyes fluttering: He does? Teacher: Yep. He drools in his sleep. That’s why I keep the Windex handy. 1st Student, nose wrinkling: Ew.

2nd Student: I told you, he likes Kelly anyways. 1st Student: Good. As I said, this crime used to be viewed as a case of “kids being kids,” because school officials at the time did not realize that today it’s the desks; tomorrow, it’s the freeway overpass. And then you put down the magic marker and pick up a chain saw. From bored student to homicidal lunatic in less than a week. They didn’t remember the words of Barney Fife, greatest lawman in American history: Nip it in the bud.

Fortunately zero tolerance came to school. No guns. Make a gun shape with your hand, you get detention. No knives. That knife in your lunch box that you claim was just to cut up an orange? Pshaw. They know you’re planning to start a gang rumble with it.

Oh, and they saw the steak knife on the floor of your car that somebody oh so-conveniently dropped while you were helping “a friend” move. Yeah, it belongs “to your friend.” A likely story. And no drugs. This is a drug-free zone.

The ibuprofen you stashed in your purse because you claim it helps with your “menstrual cramps?” Yeah, all the alcoholics claim their booze is “purely medicinal,” too. They’re on to you, pal. Why would anybody take ibuprofen, if not to get high and burn down the school? And of course, zero tolerance for bullying. If you get attacked, the faculty will immediately look the other way so they can truthfully say they didn’t see it, because, quite frankly they also are afraid of the kid who attacked you, because that kid not only carries a semi-automatic and a switchblade, he has a bazooka mounted on the roof of his car to protect the cocaine in his trunk. So the schools now have no problem with guns, drugs, knives, or bullying. None, I tell you.

So they can now turn their attention to the most dangerous delinquents of all: the Desktop Doodlers. You’re going down, you little punks! All of you! The firing squad will form behind the gym at three-thirty, right after the pep rally.