A Visit to My Old Middle School

I walked through the crowded hallway of my old middle school, feeling like Moses as the sea of silly little idiots parted before me. It was strange being back in these hallways when I was so much bigger, so much older. Surely the lockers weren’t so small when I was a student here. And was I really that tiny, that frail, when I was that age? 

As I waded through the nostalgia I looked upwards, smiling to myself as I recognized an oil stain in one of the chalky ceiling tiles. I made that stain myself when I threw a heavily buttered slice of bread from my sandwich up into the air and it stuck there. Other stains mottled the walls and the floors and the ceiling; there are fewer places on this earth filthier than a middle school.

I looked back down and grew curious when I saw that all of the students were looking at me, aghast, as they passed. Looking at my lower half. I looked down and realized with a start that I was completely naked from the waist down! It was like that age old nightmare, finding yourself in a public place with no clothes on, only I knew I wasn’t asleep. I was in front of a full crowd of impressionable minors, their minds like unexposed photo paper, burning any notable image into memory, and here I am without a stitch of clothing below my waistline! My skin flushed red as a wave of embarrassment washed over me.

I couldn’t believe it. How could I forget to put shoes on?