Once upon a time, I was in High School, struggling to get by in the harsh environment of hormones and crack. Lots of crack. Anyway, I was late for first period class one day, by like, 3 seconds, and my teacher, Mrs. Erickson, threw a fit.
“Why aren’t you on time, Jeremy?” she would say, exasperated.
“My name’s Jeff you bitch! Who the fuck is Jeremy?” I called out, hysterical.
“Jeremy is my late dogs name.” she sobbed.
She then began to bawl her eyes out, reminiscing about her poor dog. I felt bad all over. It seemed that I had made her really feel bad. I thought of things to do to cheer her up. Quietly, I put a steady hand on her quivering shoulder, and quietly said, “Fuck you.”
“Thank you Jeff, you’ve been a great help.” she whispered, with hints of sexual desire.
“Please see me after class.” she continued.
After class, I became involved sexually with said teacher, who had great knockers. She gave me an A for the course, which helped me pass High School.
The End (I don’t know if you can tell, but all of these literary masterpieces are freestyle written on the spot).