Hey Pozor, first time writing to ya.

Back in the day, I was in 3rd or 4th grade, something like that. There were about 5 of us in the class, and among us, this one absolute nutcase. Dude was unhinged—flashing us hardcore porn on his ancient flip phone, even showing off sleazy pics of his own mom in some scandalous poses. Yeah, you get the picture. So naturally, we made his life hell. We’d chuck his sneakers into the toilet, lock him in the locker room with the lights off, just proper savage stuff.

Then there was this one gym class. As usual, we’re messing around, kicking each other for laughs. We gang up on this dude, giving him the usual roughhousing. But after a while, something’s off—there’s this godawful stench. We get to the locker room, he drops his pants and underwear, and holy shit, it’s a disaster. He’d straight-up crapped himself. Absolute mess. After that epic humiliation, the guy just packed up and moved to some other backwater village.
#schoolmemories #wtf #cringe #savage

Back in our school, the shop teacher was a real piece of work, a wild card with a devil-may-care vibe. Before class, he’d toss back some nasvay, getting all wired up—darting around the workshop, fiddling with tools, acting like someone flipped a goddamn switch in his head. Hell, he even tried to push that nasty stuff on us a couple of times, grinning like a maniac, saying it’d “wake us up.”

In his grimy little kingdom, there was this glass-door cabinet, proudly displaying his stash of cha-cha—homemade moonshine, no doubt. A whole damn collection, and he didn’t give two shits who saw it.

So, one day, some ballsy idiot—yep, you guessed it, that was me—thought it’d be a brilliant idea to “borrow” a couple of those bottles. Snatched ‘em smooth as silk, or so I thought. But that crafty bastard sniffed out the thief eventually, and let’s just say he hunted me down. The aftermath? A solid ass-whooping, some ear-splitting yelling, and a whole lot of drama.
#wildteacher #schoolmemories #moonshinemadness #caughtredhanded