To Be A Cube


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 His peers made noises of howling laughter at him as he was lead out of the class. Mr fisch, the math teacher, closed the door behind and the noise slowly muffled up to the point of dull, distant chorus. 

"Explain what occurred, Alfred" fisch requested, sharply.

"They were calling my school equipment names" pleaded Alfred.

The teacher looked him with stern, serious features - much like a KKK might look at a person of coloured descent. 

"You deserve to be Called poor, my boy. Because you are!" He spouted suddenly. "now get out of my sight!"

They had to be taught about AIDS again, as the school policy was so strict as to teach AIDS like it was evengalical church.

As Alf sat forlornly at his desk, hunched forword, drooping head supported by his crutch-like hand, looking like a sack of piss and looking at the endless projection slides of AIDS viruses, he realised that AIDS might not need to be taught to this odd amount.

He raised his hand, like che Guevara rebel.

"Sir, might we be taught about things which aren't AIDS related?" He asked almost a la Oliver Twist.

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