| Report for Ross Gillson | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 5 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 3 |
| Summary | Exemplary Child |
Our primary school was an old Victorian pile with a disused toilet block out the back. Carved into the door of this was the name 'Kevin Traas'. My friends Scott and Carl realised that this meant the toilet block was haunted, and the name of the spectre was Kevin.
'Looking for Kevin Traas' became a major pastime, in which we would all traipse around the school with a toy Ghostbusters PKE Meter (which Scott insisted on calling an 'Amy Peeker') which had been prised open and an old circuit board inserted to 'make it work'.
Kevin even made an appearance in our English lessons. Scott, Carl and my other friends eschewed the traditional 'what I did at the weekend' for stories in which they entered the old toilet block, found a subterranean tunnel, in which was Kevin Traas, who was by now a blood-soaked ghoul, and fully illustrated as such. They then proceeded to blast the undead Hell out of Kevin with, invariably, a pump action shotgun. Kevin Traas never stood a chance.
'Looking for Kevin Traas' became a major pastime, in which we would all traipse around the school with a toy Ghostbusters PKE Meter (which Scott insisted on calling an 'Amy Peeker') which had been prised open and an old circuit board inserted to 'make it work'.
Kevin even made an appearance in our English lessons. Scott, Carl and my other friends eschewed the traditional 'what I did at the weekend' for stories in which they entered the old toilet block, found a subterranean tunnel, in which was Kevin Traas, who was by now a blood-soaked ghoul, and fully illustrated as such. They then proceeded to blast the undead Hell out of Kevin with, invariably, a pump action shotgun. Kevin Traas never stood a chance.
"He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD." Deuteronomy 23:1
As a male child of the rusty-follicled persuasion, I learned that the worst thing you can possibly do is try and deflect insults with a cry of "It's not ginger! It's strawberry blonde!"
Thanks for the tip, Ross. Log, you could do worse than take heed.
Thanks for the tip, Ross. Log, you could do worse than take heed.
We had a craze for broken stubs of pencil lead, which we hoarded in those oblong metal pencil cases. One day, after inspecting our jealously guarded treasure troves, it finally dawned on us just how far we had descended to a sub-stamp-collecting level of rubbishness, and decided to just flick them at the girls.
Response by girls to absolutely anything a boy says or does that is in anyway funny, interesting or unorthodox. My answer was that I was releasing my inner child, which was in fact a very mature thing to do indeed.