In School Suspension. More commonly known as ISS. To the frequent felons, it is known as The Shit. ISS, the shit? Who would have thought...due to my tardiness on one Friday morning, I was bestowed the opportunity to spend a day in The Shit. I was completely clueless as to what it would be like. All I had heard was that you should never leave your cell phone on top of your desk (because someone WILL steal it), just because other people in there say The N-Word does NOT mean YOU can say it too, and that the ISS teacher in there is constantly blazed. (which all proved to be true) I have come to the conclusion that ISS has four phases: the awkward silence phase, the "who got da dope" phase, the lunch phase, and the "we got one hour left so let's do whatever the hell we want" phase. Let me care to explain to these goody-goody-two-shoes. (yeah. never quite understood THAT expression. i mean, doesn't everyone wear two shoes?)
PHASE ONE: People start walking in, one by one. They scope the room to see if there is anyone else they know. They choose a seat. They sit quietly, anticipating the next person to come in. They notice someone staring at them from across the room. They don't dare to look over, so they start staring at someone else across the room, which now makes them the creepy one staring at someone from across the room. It's a neverending cycle. A few daring individuals whisper a thing or two to their neighbor, but no one is rebellious enough to speak aloud. Sure, they've been pushin' crack, but dare to speak in a tone outside of their inside voices? NEVER. The most awkward part is when someone you know walks in, comes and sits by you, but then neither of you want to break the silence, so even though you both know the other sat by you to talk, neither of you do. So you both look in complete opposite directions, which does in fact look a little sketchy.
PHASE TWO: The room is almost full. A few leftovers are filing in. You wonder why they're so late. And then you know. The aroma is strong, the scent is obvious. Then you hear it: "WHO GOT DA DOPE?!" Everyone looks to the right, then the left. You stare at everyone in the room, trying to make eye contact to see if they look guilty. Then you hear it again: "Man, I KNOW someone in here got DOPE!" Who's got the dope. Who's got the dope. The anticipation is killing you. The mystery is intensifying. Who's. Got. The Dope. "MAYYNNNEEE I KNOW IT'S THAT WHITE BOY!" Then someone has the brilliant idea to spray Axe for a good 15 minutes straight into the tiny room with no windows and a closed door filled with people, including girls who may not want to smell like boy's cologne. Now we still have a strong aroma, but now it doesn't smell like weed, it smells like someone trying to cover up the smell of weed. A few minutes later, a police officer comes in, sniffs everyone's fingertips, and leaves. I feel bad for him, because I definitely saw the guy sitting next to me fondling himself for a decent amount of time. And no, he was not wearing gloves. Or boxers.
PHASE THREE: Lunch. This really is only considered a phase because when I went, the girl beside me downed six cartons of chocolate milk and then told me how her boyfriend could be Brad Pitt's twin. I've seen him. He could be his twin, but it'd be one of those twins that got jipped and all the good stuff went to the other twin and it had to scrounge for the scraps for nine months and once they were born you couldn't really tell if it WAS a twin or just a missing limb from the other one. Then it cries and you know it's alive. Yeah. Then I could see the resemblance.
PHASE FOUR: AAAAHHHHHHHBLLLAAHHHHHH! Smokin' crack. OOOOOOAAAHHHHHH! Baby's daddy. BLLLUUUHHHHHH! Tap dat ass. AAAHHHHHHH! Yeah. That's basically what it sounds like the last hour.
How it earned it's reputation as being The Shit, I'll never know. But I highly recommend going.