" There was one class in particular that I really liked (because of my crazy teacher) that I had near the end of the day. I always enjoyed going to that class except for one thing; near the middle of the year, one of the moronic cheerleaders decided it would be funny and cute to walk up and down the aisles in class hitting people on the head. She would just giggle if you asked her to stop, and it would literally take a strong smack to the chest (I saw it done) to get her to leave one person alone.
I felt the urge to kill rising one day right as I knew she was coming up behind me, so when she whacked me in the back of the head, I emitted a small agonized noise and bent my head forward, covering the spot that she'd hit me with both of my hands and squeezing my eyes shut. She got this really concerned look on her face (almost like the one in my icon) and knelt down beside my desk, asking me if I was okay. I told her, "Yeah, I'm fine, but you can't do that again. You
see, when I was born, the soft spot in the back of my head never strengthened. If you hit me there hard enough, I could die ."
Her eyes got even bigger and she apologized profusely, and I never had to worry about her even so much as looking at me disrespectfully for the rest of the year. I was quite proud of myself."
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