In high school we had a teacher who was one of those... I don't know what to call him, he didn't teach anything in particular, rather he was always subbing in for someone else. One week I'd have him for econ, the next week for biology and then the following week for gym. And he tried to pass himself off as an authority on all things, of which I was increasingly skeptical. Particularly because he was a jock (one of the assistant coaches on the football team), looked it and acted it, and at the time I was very much hating jocks.

Anyway, Mr. S was very built. Short, but built like a wrestler. I didn't really notice a bulge on him until we had him for gym class, and his sweat pants indicated what looked like a kielbasa packed in there. Thus began my lust-hate fantasies about Mr. S.

So cut to the week my French teacher is on vacation and lo and behold Mr. S is our substitute. He told us our teacher wanted us to help each other get through a few more chapters of "Le Compte de Monte Cristo." So we circled up our desks and started going through the text while he sat as his desk and did a crossword puzzle or something. This was my Level 4 French class, so we were all pretty fluent at that point, and even when one of us would ask what a particular word or sentence meant we'd respond to each other in French.

Us being a group of high school seniors (read: assholes) we obviously started talking about everything but the book. And the topic turned to Mr. S, unbeknownst to him. We covered everything: his cluelessness, the teacher he was rumored to be having an affair with, and of course the apparent gargantuan cock he had swinging between his legs.

A few minutes later he put down his crossword puzzle, cleared his throat, and said "Je nous donne le detention, tout le monde." His face was almost purple with anger.

And that, my friends, was the day a teenage hotbtminla's uppance came.