I was already late for lesson, but it was ok because I had been to the Chinese and I had a chip with a bit of curry sauce lodged in my pocket to sacrifice to the teacher to recompense my tardiness
(my teacher is northern so it’d count towards her 5 a day). It had never worked before. But, then again, I had never been this late before. The curry sauce was a new touch too, so long as I could
keep the fur out of it.
So I was hurtling down the corridor, buttocks pumping in a furious power walk (more powerful than wind energy (although not as popular; fewer fans)). As the door to my classroom came closer, it
suddenly hit me.
I got back up and realised, that my hands smelt strongly of curry and that I couldn’t work for a whole hour with this smell so near me. It was making me hungry again and I just knew that the other
students in my class would spend the hour trying to lick my hands for the taste. So I went to wash them.
I rushed in and slammed down on the soap dispenser, which fired a whole globule of soap over my out-stretched hand and onto my clean jeans. Silently screaming and doing the angry disbelief dance
(more terrifying than the Haka), I lunged into the cubicle next to me, apologised to the guy in there and went to the next one instead. Grabbing a piece of loo roll, I started scrubbing at the
stain, but all that did was leave white dots in the now larger stain on my jeans. So I screamed, but not as silently this time.
Ok, new tactic. I grabbed the section of trouser in question and pulled it up to the tap (quite a feat) and turned it on. I was getting some weird looks, but I didn’t care. But this didn’t even
solve the problem; I just got a huge foamy, wet, but pleasantly warm, lather spreading across my leg.
Great. Now it looks like I’ve wet myself.
And that my urine is soapy.
This broke me. So I rinsed and reached up to the hand dryer, making the water on my hands run down my sleeves, the full length, to my armpits, which just made me sob a bit more.
And so it was, that half an hour late, I stumbled into lesson, red-faced, red-eyed, with wet patches under my arms, and a huge mark on my upper leg, so much more filthy looking than before I
decided to clean myself.
But at least my hands smelt lovely.