Third Grade Mishaps (Blood Included)

Third grade, like all other grades, is a horrible year. The pressure begins to ramp up, you’re homework gets due dates, drama, etc.

I did lots of stupid things in third grade, such as color my teeth blue with a ballpoint pen; color my entire hand blue with a ballpoint pen; lock myself in my room for hours at a time without food, water, or bathroom breaks to watch ICarly; contract the stomach flu; throw up in the hallway and walk into a random classroom with vomit all over my hands and face; throw up in the hallway again; write a short story about vampires; etc. The list could go on for ages.

But today we’re going to talk about a particular story that took place in third grade.

Like every other mostly sane person, I am in an ongoing war with mosquitos. Mosquitos are horrible (they’re important to the ecosystem but horrible to people). They are horrible and don’t you dare disagree. They suck your blood like greedy vampires and leave itching bumps that swell to the size of plastic Easter eggs.

Mosquitos, on the other hand, love me. They leave everyone else alone and make a feast of me.

Everyone always tells you never to scratch mosquito bites, but I’ve never been one to listen to everyone. But in this case, at least, I should have.

I got a mosquito bite on my left forearm and it swelled to a respectable size. And I itched it. I itched it until it bled.

(Mosquitos are one of the reasons that I despise spring.)

But, thanks to magic and a Band-Aid, the bloody wound eventually scabbed over.

(This post’s about to get somewhat gross. Squeamish readers, click off now.)

Another activity that I participated in as a naive child was the picking of scabs. *Shudders* Don’t worry, dear readers, I don’t do this anymore.

The scab was about a half-inch long (“How do I know this?” you ask. I still have a scar) and it covered a half-inch long wound. (I’m going to call it a wound. It makes the story more dramatic.)

During class, I did the inevitable and picked off the scab.

But, of course, it started bleeding profusely. (What else did I expect?)

So here I am, blood gushing from an open wound, my right hand clapped over it to try and stanch the flow, and my teacher, under the premise that nothing was wrong, merrily teaching away.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, she gave us time to work. I went up to ask the teacher for a Band-Aid, but there was another girl in front of me. I waited patiently behind her, still bleeding.

She needed a Band-Aid as well. For her papercut.

The nightmare then began.

Me: Uh, I need a Band-Aid, too.

Teacher: I’m sorry. We’re out of Band-Aids. Is it an emergency?

Girl: That’s fine. I don’t really need one.

Me: … Yeah. I guess it can wait.

It could not wait. It definitely could not wait.

Soon afterward, the teacher began to teach again. (It is her job, after all.)

And I’m still sitting there. Bleeding profusely.

I lifted my right hand to check if it had stopped bleeding. Nope. And my right hand was coated with blood.

At that point, a classmate, let’s call him Earl Omega, looked right at me. I held eye contact and glared at him with the full force of the laser-firing armada located behind my eyeballs.

I can’t remember what happened afterward because third grade was so long ago.

And now we’ll never know if Little Arachnid ever got that Band-Aid or not.

Mellow Yellow Episode 19: Pool Party

In CYRA’s homely cottage, setting up a kiddie pool

CYRA: (whipping LUR) All done! I think your blood has filled up the pool!

LUR (weakly): Get me out of here.

CYRA: Yay! I’m going to change into my swimsuit, okay? You wait here.

LUR: I’m tied up! (struggles with the ropes)

 

***

 

CYRA: I’m back! (Now dressed in a green bikini, and is untying LUR)

LUR: What is this? A pool party?

CYRA: Yeah! I got the drinks too! (holds up a wine glass filled with blood. ZHAN’s eyeball floats on top) Want one?

LUR: No.

CYRA: Not even with these silver noodles he had clenched in his hands? (slurps TICK’s hair) They are quite tasty.

LUR: NO.

CYRA: Don’t you want to have some fun? (Puts hand on his shoulder)

LUR: … (Flashbacking wildly)

CYRA: Hello? Lur? (waving her hands frantically in front of his face) Oh well, I guess I could just look in that bag that you have…

LUR: … (Lost in the land of Flashback)

CYRA: (rummaging through his bag) Let’s see… bullets, an array of forks from different countries that don’t exist, Slugventures, and a single by Katy Perry. (Rubbing dust off the cover) Ooooh! California Gurls! This is perfect!

LUR: (back from his journey) Hey! What are you doing?

CYRA places the disk into a conveniently placed disk player.

California Gurls plays

LUR (Singing along): CALIFORNIA GURLS, WE’RE UNDENIABLE, DAISY DUKES… (Looks from his swim trousers to her bikini frantically)

CYRA: EIFFEL TOWERS ON TOP! (An Eiffel Tower grows out of the ground behind them)

QUINN is in the bushes with popsicles, ready to fire, along with his army men, JOHN, and LENA.

CYRA and LUR: FUN, FRESH, FIERCE, SO HOT. WE’LL—

QUINN: FIREEEEEWEEE! (JOHN fires the popsicles, but they melt in the air)

CYRA and LUR: MELT YOUR POPSICLE!

QUINN: So this is the true power of the Fire Nation.

JOHN: Yes, they are almost untouchable!

LENA: But it looks like they are having a lot of fun. Look at those yummy snacks they have!

JOHN: Let’s go!

JOHN and LENA rip off their clothing (they are wearing bathing suits), running toward the pool party, leaving QUINN all alone.

QUINN: Hello darkness, my old friend.

LENA: (wearing a blue bathing suit, settling down in the blood pool) Hey guys, what’cha up to?

JOHN: Yeah. What up? (In red swim trousers)

LUR: (with an idiotic smile) The Eiffel Tower!

JOHN’s eyes narrow.

CYRA sucks on ZHAN’s disembodied finger

JOHN: You are supposed to say “the ceiling” (Disgraced, he leaves the pool, tripping over the finished glasses of ZHAN’s blood)

LENA: I guess it’s just us now, huh?

LUR: Hey! I just realized now that I can escape!

CYRA takes LUR, folds him into a sandwich, and sits on him. She finishes him off with a dagger to the cheek.

LUR: Ow.

LENA: (Petrified) What? Is this stuff not fruit punch?

CYRA grabs LENA’s swimming suit, folds her into a burrito, and uses her as a footrest. She slurps her ZHAN-blood desperately trying to fit the eyeball into her mouth.

JOHN: (In the bushes with QUINN) The Fire Nation is truly despicable.

QUINN: Yes. (bites Bread Snadwhich three)

 

~~~END