A Life Less Scary
"The interesting and varied life of Scary Duck, Genius, French Cabaret Chantoose and small bets placed."
Don't try this at home
The science lab is your friend. It has all sort of stuff that you can use to burn, maim andannoy your fellow students and, if you’re really lucky, your teacher. We thought nothing of leaving gas taps on for the unsuspecting smoker, leaving the lids of highly toxic and reactive chemicals and using the everyday items around us to create life-threatening weapons.
Dr Jenkins once showed us how to make Nitro, and we wiped out large sections of the school garden. From that day we never looked back.
For wanton cruelty to your fellow student, you just couldn’t beat electricity. Provided you were well earthed, you could wreak havoc on anyone you liked without fear of ending up a shrivelled black crisp on the floor.
So when we were introduced to the marvels of static electricity, we were in heaven. Mr Wilkinson wheeled in a contraption with two huge silver domes which appeared to be powered by a bloody great handle and the world’s biggest elastic band.
“Gentlemen”, he solemnly announced, “I give you the van der Graaf generator.”
It was ace. By turning the handle fast enough, you created a huge static charge, which arced across several inches from one dome to the other. When Mr Wilkinson told us the charge was several million volts, that was it, we were sold. With your hand on top of one of the domes, you too became live and had almost magical powers of sending sparks flying across space from your fingertips. Wa-hey-hey!
As soon as his back was turned we started to take the piss.
“Hey! Nob-Head, come here!” said Ju-Vid, king of the cruel and unusual practical joke.
Nob-Head (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) was the most hated kid in our class. He was an unreconstructed stool-pigeon and teacher’s pet, who would sell his own granny to the police for the reward money. He also had an unfortunate facial feature that made his nose look almost exactly like a penis. A very small penis. To match his real one. Frankly, you couldn’t tell which way up he was.
“By that name, I assume you are addressing me”, said the slimy little twerp.
“There’s no one else here with a prick on their head, so yeah”.
Nobby walked across the lab to Ju. Ju had his left hand on the dome, hair standing on end as Ernie pumped the handle like fury. Rob, Geoff and I stood well clear, knowing full well what was coming.
“And how can I help yo-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”
Ju lifted his right hand, and in a scene redolant of Michaelangelo’s Birth of Adam with the addition of schoolboy sniggering (only without the nudity and beards), reached out to touch Nobby.
There was a loud CRACK! as the spark flew six inches and caught him square on his nasal todger.
Nobby was lifted off his feet and flew backwards across the lab, scattering stools everywhere, before coming to rest under a desk, clutching his big end.
“Sir! Sir! He did that on purpose sir!”, he said pointing at the evidence, a small, yet growing red spot on the end of his dick, making it resemble the Jap’s Eye even more than it did before.
“Um... Yes... Well...” said Mr Wilkinson, trying his damnedest not to laugh, “We’ll soon put a stop to that.”
He told us to stop it. So we did. For about five seconds. Nobby never learned. We must have caught him twenty times that day. On the nose, on the ears, up the arse, anywhere. He must have truly thought we had it in for him. And we did. The guy was responsible for more detention than any other kid in the school, and this was sweet, sweet payback.
But as usual, Ju just had to take it too far. He found a way to rig himself up to the mains current using some spare wire, a rubber mat and the biggest pair of rubber gauntlets you ever saw outside of a kinky fetish video.
“Yessssss Julian”, he sadi, sounding like gas escaping.
“I’ve been bugging you for far too long. It’s time we buried the hatchet. Let bygones be bygones. Whaddaya say?”
“Well, I suppose your behaviour towards me has fallen somewhat short of the standard expected...”
“Less of the chat - let’s shake on it. Put it there!”
The circuit breaker went, the lights failed and there was that stunned silence you only ever get in the classroom when you know that someone’s going to get crucified. Nobby Nob-Head staggered to his feet, straightened his tie and blazer and for the first time in his life stood up for himself.
The foot connected with Ju-vid’s groin with a sickening crunch. There was a sharp intake of breath (and not just from Ju, I can tell you for nothing) and he keeled over in a gibbering heap on the lab floor.
“You... you.... you...” stammered Nobby, struggling to find the right word, “You utter, utter CUNT!”
There was a murmur of approval. Nobby had come of age. Only those looking for a kicking ever commented on his nose. Ju-vid never bugged him again, mainly because he was supended from school for the next three months.
Nobby, it turned out, was the only person who took notes when Dr Jenkins made the Nitro. Just for that, he was allowed in our gang. It was safer that way.
While this story is based on actual events in the life of Scaryduck, certain identities and venues may have been changed to protect the innocent.