...but Redhead have all the luck.

Okay, before I go onto another story, let me update the last update of my journal. I got my narrative back, and my English teacher was all, "OMG!!!1! This is so good." We have to write another one for her, due next Friday (the 29th). I need to start on that.

But back to the title.

My school has a strict 'No cellphone, MP3 player, pager, mace, nose ring, personal computer, illicit narcotics, and bull horn' Policy.

Knowing this, I am the one uber geeky kid who everyday turns off my cell and places it in my locker under a pile of book sox. Everyday, without fail or exception.

The other day however, I was digging in my purse for my phone to place it in my locker.

I couldn't find.

Now being well, me, I'm not surprised. I routinely forget my phone on my nightstand, and as such, I routinely have to walk home, unable to call for a ride.

So I go about day, attending the classes of all my cellphone nazi teachers.

Then we get to fifth period. Honors American Studies. When I first got there, I was all thrilled, as we had a substitute, meaning I would not have to use the pink mush between my ears for the next fifty minutes.

So there I was, supposedly listening to the sub ramble on about Pakistan... or maybe Cuba...

I don't know; its not really that important.

Then, randomly, a cell phone goes off. As a silence spreads throughout the room, I think:

"Dang! That poor soul sure has a ringtone of PWNage."

That's when I realize that of ringtone of PWNage is coming from my purse.

My tiny, babydoll, 'why even bother' purse.
My tiny, babydoll, 'why even bother' purse that I had searched just that morning for a cell phone in.

In accordance, my internal monologue questions evolve into the following:

A.)  Since when is my cell phone in my purse?
B.)  Since when do I actually have my phone on?
C.)  Who the floop actually knows my cell number?

Surrounded by the anticipatory silence in the room, a fumble for my purse and attempt to shut up my demented cell phone with a ringtone of PWNage.

It takes my about five minutes to find it in my ridiculously small purse, but I finally locate the phone and turn it off. Sighing in relief I look up from my phone and into the eyes of a rather bemused substitute teacher (ST). The conversation the follows is factual:

"Your not supposed to have that are you?" ST asked.

"Well, no... Not really but--" I manage to get out before being cut off.

"Is it turned off?"

"Yershelnessness."

"Excuse me?"

"Um... Yes?"

"Your supposed to get a detention aren't you?"

"Yeah. A Saturday!" That particular comment by my wonderful and friendly classmates who ' totally got my back.'

The sub looks around the room for a second before turning back to me, who had been attempting to figure out how I was going to explain this ruin of my perfect permanent record to my parental units.

"A Saturday? That doesn't sound good. Unfortunately, as a substitute, I have no authority to give you one."

And then, he was talking about whatever African nation he was talking 'bout prior to the ringtone of PWNage.

I sat there in udder shock, unable to believe this act of charity.

My classmates sat there in shock, wondering who I was sleeping with to get out of punishment.

So, as I said before, we Redheads do have all the luck.