[WARNING: This choice-branch contains racist commentary. Please be aware that this story is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously.]
As the teacher followed security to go report you, a big discussion occurs back in the classroom.
“Ha! You smell that guy?” asks one black chick. “Girlllll everyone smelled his ass,” replies another, “Damn, that shit was trifflin’.”
“For real though, why he come here smelling like that?”
“He probably can’t afford to take a shower,” she said before they both burst out laughing.
As they continue to joke about you, another group of students across the room begins another discussion. “That guy was something else,” said the student on the left. “Tell me about it. You catch the way he dressed?” said the one on the right.
“I don’t remember seeing him around school before.”
“He’s probably a transfer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts hangin’ with Cletus and his goons...”
“What did he say was his name was again?”
“I wonder…,“ mumbled another student next to them. The other 2 turned to look as he crosses his arms. “Say somethin’ C.J.?” “Don’t you think it’s odd he has the same name as [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]?” asks C.J.
“Oh yeah, he did call himself that,” said the student on the left.
The right student scoots his desk to face the other 2. “Probably explains why he accidentally came in this class. Those dumbasses at the office probably gave him the wrong schedule.”
“I don’t think that’s possible;” replies C.J, “Think about it, if he was a transfer, why would he sit in [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE] seat? There’s plenty of other open seat’s here.”
“You aren’t suggestin’ he’s the same guy right? You know it’s a coincidence man. He hurried and chose a random seat ‘cause he came in late.”
“He’s right C.J.” says the student on the left, “Besides the hair color, that guy looked and sounded nothing like [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE].”
“I suppose so. No one can change THAT much within one night,” replies C.J.
The teacher walks back inside the classroom. “Alright everyone, settle down,” he says as he walks towards the board. “Sorry about the… interruption folks.”
“GIT ‘ER DONE!” randomly shouts a student. Everyone but C.J. laughs.
“Eheheh, yes… I suppose that guy really fit the blue collar TV type. “Enahways,” let’s continue where we left off about the civil war era.”
As the teacher resumes his lecture, you on the other hand are located within the principal’s office slouching lazily atop a leather chair picking your nose. The principle, as well as a female, calmly reviews you, your driver's license, and social security card.
"Hmm...," she says as she compares the picture on the license with you, "Quite frankly Mr. "[INSERT YOUR LAST NAME HERE]", I hardly see any similarities between this young man here and... you."
You pull out a large booger and fling it to your side. "Whachew talkin' bout?" you ask as you point at your license, "Canchew see ‘at tair pimple on mah noggin'?"
"Mr. [INSERT YOUR LAST NAME HERE], I hardly see how pimples have anything to do with the situation."
"But it's tha’ same’s this here. See?" you assured as you point and try to pop the same pimple on your forehead.
Getting annoyed by your stupidity, the principle slaps her palm against her face and sighs. "Since I'm in a relatively good mood today, I'm going to give you some benefit of the doubt."
"I real' 'ppreciate it ma’a-" "HOWEVER, I'll have to contact one of "this child's" parents and bring them in to confirm things. If they deny your identity OR if they fail to respond, I'll be forced to apprehend you for identity theft. Do I make myself clear?" You quietly nod in response.
"Good. Security, see to it that this young man attends detention for the rest of day until notified." An officer clutches you by the arm while you angrily attempt to nudge him off. "Oh and please make sure you bathe once you get home...” she suggests as she sprays her room while the officer leads you out the office.
Arriving in the Detention room, the officer pushes you forward and presents you to the supervisor. The stern looking man examines you closely from his seat.
"Ewrh," moaned the supervisor with a disgusted look on his face, "So what's his story?"
"Country here seems to have some identity issues,” replied the officer.
"I ain't got nu isshas!"
"Heheh. Calm down Cowboy,” laughs the officer, “Anyways, Ms. Connors (the principal) wants him here ‘til she contacts his parents."
"I see.” The supervisor glances weirdly at you while you fix your buckle. "You proud wearing that buckle son?"
"You dern righ’ I am!"
The supervisor smirks and turns his head. "Heh, this kid's a fool. Keep your mouth shut and take a seat in the back corner there."
The officer let's you go and shuts the door. You glance around the room to see if you recognize anybody; however, all you find are niggers leering at you as you walk towards your seat. Out of the few white brethren of yours, you manage to recognize Lester sitting in front; he smirks at you while you give him a heads up and sit in your seat.
As time went by, you began to crave for some hard tobacco. You reach down your pockets to pull your can out, but quietly groan as you stop and remember the school rules. Overtime, your hunger for some tobacco slowly increases. You began to long for its warm sweetness shuffling within your mouth, its fluid juiciness slowly caressing your tongue, the manly feel that radiates within as you spit out a large black. You wanted some; you wanted some now. You raise your hand hoping you can go fulfill your crave.
“Jew care if I run’n take a piss suh? I reall' hav' ta go.” you lie.
"Take your piss later; I can't let you out during classes"
Getting desperate, you hold your crotch and start to shake."Ka’moan, man! Mah belly's 'bout to blow!"
Some students giggle as the supervisor woefully sighs at you. "If you’re not back in 5mins, I'm calling security to get you."
"Much-Muchablige, mistuh," you thank as you hold your crotch and scamper out the room.
You enter the male’s bathroom and check all the stall’s before entering the last one. You collapse atop the open toilet and ferociously pull out your can from your pocket. With one hand, you hold it close to your mouth and pull it open with your teeth; you un-belt yourself with the other. After you spit the top out of your mouth you take your tongue and slowly lick out some of the contents. With your pants fully undone, you close your eyes as you reach down within your boxers and slowly caress your penis. You set the can down next to you and tilt your head back as you moan in delight. You relax your weak arm letting it dangle to your side as you continue stroke and drown yourself within ecstasy. Your mind was completely fixated on your Chaw, your Redneck brethren and Cletus’s Dick. Your rear twitches as it yearn for Cletus’s large manhood. Controlling your satisfaction no longer, you arrive at the pinnacle of bliss and zestfully relinquish your seed within your boxers. Suddenly you hear the bathroom door open and footsteps walk in.
“[INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]?” called someone just after you came.
You’re pleasure instantly subsides as you swiftly close the stall and buckle yourself up. You ignore him.
“You accidentally came into our class right?” asks the stranger.
“Wha’ of it?” you snicker.
The stranger looks under the stalls and walks to your locked stall. “You finishing up? I want to take a good look at you.”
“No, now git.”
The stranger gets on the floor and looks at you under the stall. You see he’s another one of those niggers and became angry from your invasion of privacy. “Wha ‘tha hell?” yelled you as you stand and accidentally knock some chaw out from your can, “Gawdernit! Gitchyer ass out mah stall!” You try to kick his head but pulls’ away before you do. “Dontchew move!” you threaten as you lift your belly and clamp your buckle.
Once done, you thrust open the stall and corner him against the wall. “What tha’ hell’s wrong wit’ you boy!?” you yell at his face.
“Oh god… Your eyes… You really are [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]…”
“O’course I am you-” “Du-Dude, what the hell happened to you!?” he gasps.
“Huh? Who you talkin’ bout?”
“You!!,” he says, “There’s no way this is happening! I knew something was off but this is insane…!”
You let your arms down and back away from him a bit. “You talk as if ya knew me.”
“Of course I do! I’m your friend C.J., remember? I live next door to you.”
Ha, friends? You felt as if your white lineage was disgraced. “I ain’t ehva friends wit’ no coon!”
“Coon? Listen to yourself man! You sound like some ignorant redneck.”
“I AIN’T IGNERT!!,” you scream while you clutch his arm tightly. “Lissen, I don’t know whatchew hai’gainst me, butchew bes’ watch yer mouth boy.”
“Let go!,” he hisses in pain.
“Hmph!” you grunt as you furiously let go and stomp your way out the bathroom, “Dunt evah show yer face round me ‘gin, ya here?”
“Cletus must’ve done something to you, didn’t he?”
Furious, you stop, clutch your fists, and turn back around. “Whachew say ‘bout mah boy!?”
Just then the detention supervisor barges in and clutches your arms against your back. You violently try to struggle to get free. “GIT OFF ME!”, you scream as he drags you out, “I’ll HANG HIS BLACK ASS! I AIN’T GONNA LETCHEW TALK ‘BOUT MAH BUBBA THA’ WAY!!”
C.J begins to tear up, but wipes his eyes with his arms. He looks in your previous stall and sees a can on the floor. “Nicotine?,” he questions as he picks it up and examines it. He picks up the top, closes it, and puts it in his pocket.