The Mystical Bus of Schooling©

up yours, Scholastic

Hi, folx*!

[*curation tip #9: x marx the spot]

Roy here —just your average Gen-X skeleton out to make the world a better place like everyone else: through force.

Believe it or no, I won this wicked magic bus off an evil elf named Kenny who challenged me to a battle of wits. If I won, I got the bus. If I lost, I had to give over one of my daughters to dress like Alice from The Brady Bunch and do all his chores for life. (Yeah, like that’d work out.)

So this ballsy schmuck did that thing with two cups of wine and iocane powder to which I said “Dude! How dare you offer a recovering alcoholic booze!” Then I kicked him in the fruity pebbles, grabbed the keys and pushed him down a hill.

I respect Kenny’s homage to classic movies and all, but you don’t mess with my condition or my kids.

Now lemme tell you about my new ride: It’s awesome! It can fly, time travel, shrink to fit in your colon and the horn plays Oye Como Va.

Since public education is in the toilet, I committed to making the bus a mobile classroom kind of like the RIF Mobiles back in the ’70s. (What better way to teach kids than for a stranger to lure them into the back of a diesel-fueled vehicle secured in a drinking match.)

I immediately went on the hunt to enrich some young Gen-Teels who’d benefit from a trip to monumental moments in history that shaped our nation — like, uh…you know……the important ones.

My first two vict…students were claimed at the local 7–11.

Mackenzzie (the 2nd z is silent)
Age: angsteen
Preferred Pronoun: currently she (gender reveal parties held each Friday)
School: Kathleen Kennedy High

Age: “don’t you dare chronologize me”
Preferred Pronoun: thang
School: Board-Voting-After-Removing-Name-of-Old-Dead-Guy-Who-Certainly-Did-Something-Bad Magnet School for the Uninterpretive Arts

These brainiacs were hanging out in the parking lot, texting each other about how watching Wonder Woman 1984 was “prolly just like reading 1984.”

As official ambassador to all things ’80s, I decided I’d swoop these two scholars to the real 1984 so they could experience what high school was like for me back in south Texas.

We’d just retro-warped back to the best decade ever when one of the kids — the one with the purple hair — started bitching about losing her 5G signal.

I broke the news that we’d traveled to B.C. times (before cellphones) and that’s when they totally lost their shit.

They began hyperventilating and biting the seats and calling me names like Lame ’80s Boy and Golden Girls Lover which I can’t say was totally offensive.

Then they voted unanimously to have me impeached which is the new cancelled.

“Calm down ya brats!” I yelled. “I’ll take you back to 2021.”

And I did.

But not before kicking their snowflakey asses off 30 miles south of the border for a 3-day crash course in Spanish.

No entiendo Uber.

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