Since my last reminiscence about year 9 art class was so successful I decided to relive some more of the pain for your entertainment. AND HOW DO YOU REPAY ME? BY FUCKING MY WIFE BEHIND MY BACK!
After I paid my dues in painting my teacher decided that it was time for me to try my hand, literally, at pottery of clay (pigeons?). It was all pretty normal and I definitely enjoyed it more than painting with my own blood and all the passing out/masterpiecery that ensued.
But one day something odd happened. The teacher had stepped out to make a phone call so I was doing my pottery alone. All of a sudden I felt an intense physical presence in the room. I spun around in my chair and saw… A GHOST! It was just standing there in the room, looking at me.
It began to walk towards me. I was paralysed with fear. The ghost sat down behind me on the chair and grabbed my hands, gently. It guided them to the mound of clay (pigeons?) on the spinning thingy and started slowly moulding a thing of beauty.
It was pretty hot!
Then the ghost looked at its wristwatch (sort of a cheap one. Although I guess ghosts don’t have much of an income) and said, “oh shit, is that the time? I’ve gotta run,” and walked off. “I thought you said you had to run?” I called after it. The ghost shrugged its shoulders and kept going at the same pace.
A few minutes later the art teacher came back and looked at my pottery, called it shit and slapped me with a moist towelette.