Bergle was this big fat stupid goon son of a bitch who lived over by the dairy farm outside of town and carried a smurfs lunchbox until I stole it and chucked it out the school bus window and it landed in a ditch.  Every day when Bergle came into school, six-foot-twenty and stinking of carrion and mothballs with big gray nerd glasses and a Loverboy t-shirt and purple sweatpants, the whole class started right in:

“Hey, Bergle, where’d you get that coat, the dump?”

“Hey Bergle, I can smell that fart a mile away.  What’d you eat for breakfast, beans?”

“What were ya doin in the bathroom, Bergle, jackin off?”

And Bergle just sat there all day starin at the floor like a fat old worthless retard.

But we had the most fun at recess.  Somehow, despite being a big fat clumsy gorilla, Bergle could run faster than just about anyone, and that was good for him, because just about every day twenty or thirty kids chased him all around the playground just for the hell of it.  Most of the time he ended up falling in the mud and getting all shitty.  Other times we caught him and stomped on him and kicked him and mashed him into the mud.  Once he tried to run back into the school and me and the school fatkid and about fifty other kids caught his leg in the door and we leaned on it with all our weight and he screamed and screamed and nobody came to help him because nobody gave a shit and we busted his ankle and lay there in a heap cryin and screamin in the hallway and we danced around screaming “Bergle’s cryin!  Bergle’s cryin!”

That was the best day of my life.

I gotta take a dump.


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