Shit Happens [REWRITING SOON]

8. Poopy Pants

'The sound when the many say, 'We are done'.'

-The Madden Brothers, We Are Done.

Numéro huit

Eventually I did my English speech. I memorized it pretty well - at least better than some of the other students - and ended up getting an A-. Pretty good considering I suck at English.

We got a new seating plan too. Now I'm sitting next to surfer-boy-Peter. He gave up trying to make conversation with me after I fell off my chair from embarrassment. Literally.

I was trying to make myself look less awkward then I was, embarrassing myself even more in the process, and being the clumsy queen I am, I fell of the chair.

Now the other boy starting with P, the menace, Patrick 'Dickface' Devons, he made his day and made mine miserable by going out of his way to tease me and annoy me in every way possible.

I needed a way to get him back, and fast.

So, naturally, I decided to console the expert.

Yep, three-year-old Max.

Well, it wasn't like anyone else was home - Mom and Dad were out on a date and Ari was somewhere, so I had to babysit my brother.

I approached the little thing playing with toy trucks cautiously. You see, I had a slight distaste for the little ankle biters in general after I got bowled over by a tidal wave of them at daycare once. One kid even pull his pants down and sat on my face. I still shudder at the memory.Scarred for life.

"Hey, Maxie," I smiled, sitting down next to him.

"Poopy pants," he replied.

"Uh, right... So do you know any prank ideas?" I decided to get straight to the point.

"Poopy pants."

"Yes, that's lovely."

"Poopy pants?" he offered me a truck.

"Why thank you, Max."

"Poopy pants."

"No ideas at all?"

"Poopy pants."

So much for 'consoling the expert'. "Okay, okay."

And then I had an idea. Maybe Max did help me after all.

"Max, your a genius!" I exclaimed.

"Poopy. Pants!"

"Alright, settle petal." And then a horrid smell filled my nose.

"Poopy pants," Max sighed. Lovely, just lovely.

"Okay, let's get that diaper changed." I picked him up and holding him away from my body, took him to his room to change his diaper.

While doing that, I came up with my plan.

Because Max is still in diapers, even at the age of three, I'd nick a dirty one when no one was looking. Somewhere and somehow, I'd get that diaper on Patrick - preferably on his head - making the contents spill all through his hair and maybe even onto his face (fingers crossed for the face part). But the problem was, where would I do this, and how? I couldn't do it at school - there'd be positively no way I'd walk around the school with a diaper in my bag. It would stink too much and everyone would thing I had shat my pants. But then, where else could I do it? I would need to be in a high position to drop the diaper on his head. I could do it at my house, but then Patrick would know and he wouldn't turn up.