Yeah, I learned how to make them. And I made a ton of them.
Remember how in 4th grade you learned how to make really badass paper-airplanes by folding the paper one more time?
I learned that in 1st grade.
It seems that throughout grade school, I developed an obsession with paper. Probably the biggest incident involving this came in 7th grade. Around that time is when we started making those “hornet” things, where you fold a slip of paper over and over again until it’s incredibly tough, then you fold it short ways and you have a little arrow that fit perfectly on a rubber band stretched between your thumb and forefinger.
I learned this from a cat I will call “Nathan”.
We had Science and Math together, taught by one of the coolest dudes on Earth. Mr. Fucking. Reames. We realized this when I was talking to somebody in his class and I happened to quote an animated video that said “Jar Jar is really, Chewbacca’s father” and from across the room I hear him yell “WHAT!”
But enough about him, this is about Me and Nathan.
We were obsessed with making those hornets and shooting them on top of a cabinet in Reames’ class. I am not kidding, literally every time he would turn his back…FLING! There would be another one shot up there. Our accuracy was astounding. We then started to get complacent and started writing things like “Property of Bojac” and “Property of Nathan” on the hornets. We thought the good times would never end.
We were wrong.
One day, Reames walked up to board (naturally by the time he had turned around, about 10 more hornets were shot up on top of the cabinet). He then wrote an absurdly large number on the board. He then said that it was how many hornets the janitor found up there. But then he said that the Janitor found some that said… and he starts to write on the board “Property of Bojac”, the whole room starts laughing. I knew that if we ever got caught, it would be funny as hell, and I was right. He then said that we had detention and we had to write apology letters.
A minor charge for such an epic deed.
That was my last year at the Woodrow Wilson Middle School. That summer I moved on to Roanoke County. But this story isn’t over yet...
Now in 11th grade I had the most boring Geometry teacher, ever. I hated that woman. So naturally I found things to do to occupy my time. (Fill my TI-84 with as many 1s and 0s as possible, hit on the Dominican chick that always sat by me) Then I noticed that we had these hanging lights in the room.
That’s a bingo!
So whenever the teacher would turn her back, I would throw one of my pre-crumpled balls of paper up and over the light. Once that light got completely covered with a layer of paper, I moved on to the next one over.
This time I never got in trouble. I would just be set back at square one when the janitor would clear them off.
But there’s one more piece to the story.
Our final assignment in that class was to partner up with somebody and using tissue paper and straws, we had to make a box-kite. Seemed easy enough, but man were we wrong. We were so far behind (we had a couple days to do it) that she took the whole class outside to fly their kites, while we were still finishing. This was the absolute last day of school, we had to have it finished before they came back or she would fail us on the assignment (and we would subsequently fail the class). With mere minutes left, we were nowhere near done. Then my wicked mind struck an idea…
For you see, in our room were the completed kites from earlier classes. One of which, had the same color Tissue Paper as ours...
We took our unfinished kite and shoved it my backpack. We grabbed the finished kite, scratched out the other kids’ names and ran outside. We flew that kite, got our A’s, all is well.
When the bell rang, we were still outside. We ran back into the classroom, and we threw the kite behind one of the teacher's cabinets. My partner went to his next class and before I could leave, the teacher stopped me and asked if she could see our kite, I told her “My partner ran off with it”…She bought it! She must have never pressed the issue, because we passed that class.
The lesson here is always do your work, or don’t get caught stealing other people’s work because it can make a hell of a story.
Until next time, Bojac.
