You stride confidently toward the front of the class, and grasp the dry-erase marker firmly.

The lights are brighter there. The sudden brightness causes you to sneeze, then violently shit your pants. The force of your chunky diarrhea stream forces your ill-fitting jeans clean off, forcing your boner downward and backward, into the passing lagoon of liquid putrescence.

As the pants fall farther, your shit-boner flaps up and smacks your gut, flinging a tablespoon or so of the devil’s chocolate sauce in a vertical line onto your face, and into your mouth. This causes you to immediately vomit onto the nearest student, who happens to be your crush. She begins sobbing and screams “No one will ever love you!” before running out of class to transfer to a different school. You hesitantly go after her, but the pants around your ankles trip you up, and you fall over, hitting your head on her barf-coated desk and falling, unconscious, into your own shit.

The teacher says “Incorrect. Can someone tell me what he did wrong?”