Slavery Unabolished
Emily came home from school early today. Why?
"There was only me left in my English class." Why?
"A few of them had the vomiting bug and the rest had been sold as slaves."
Sure enough, it turned out that most of Year 12 had been sold as slaves for the day for charity, to the little ones in Year 7. Emily had avoided this by the usual method of not putting her name down.
"What do the year sevens get their slaves to do?"
"Oh, menial tasks, carry their bag, that sort of thing. Apart from the one who bought Claudia* last year."
"Why, what did he get her to do?"
"Have sex with him, obviously."
* She probably isn't called Claudia. And of course this story is definitely not true.
Emily came home from school early today. Why?
"There was only me left in my English class." Why?
"A few of them had the vomiting bug and the rest had been sold as slaves."
Sure enough, it turned out that most of Year 12 had been sold as slaves for the day for charity, to the little ones in Year 7. Emily had avoided this by the usual method of not putting her name down.
"What do the year sevens get their slaves to do?"
"Oh, menial tasks, carry their bag, that sort of thing. Apart from the one who bought Claudia* last year."
"Why, what did he get her to do?"
"Have sex with him, obviously."
* She probably isn't called Claudia. And of course this story is definitely not true.
posted by Daphne at 11:07 pm
1 Comments:
They sold for an average of £20 each! I never had a spare £20 in year 7!
Some of the dimmer small children are fascinated by me, owing to my odd appearance (I've always wondered what they'd do if I turned up with a body mod that was actually uncommon, like a tattooed scalp. Die of shock, probably.)
If I'd sold myself, some of the stupidest would have bought me, for the novelty value, and I would have to endure their presence for six whole hours.
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