The expletive-riddled mind of a first-grader
Saturday, December 23rd, 2023 Alive 19,233 days
I went to public school in my early childhood. And you know what sucked? Public school.
You know why public school sucked? Cookies and orange juice.
What kind of sick bait-and-switch bullshit is that to pull on a six-year-old?
Oh, boy, itʼs snack time! Here comes the nice lady with the tray of cookies!
Om nom nom nom. Boy are these dry. I sure hope thereʼs an appropriately-paired beverage to go with them. Oh good, here comes the drink lady!
Iʼm only in first grade, so I canʼt see whatʼs on the red plastic cafeteria tray sheʼs holding…
Sheʼs handing me a paperboard box…
This is going to be so good…
Itʼs…
Fucking orange juice!
Are they serious‽
Attention primary school teachers! Itʼs “cookies and milk,” not “cookies and throat-scratching sauce!” Everyone knows this. Ernie and Bert know this. Romper Room knows this. The Magic Garden knows this. Shit, even that spinning vortex of terrifying LSD fever dreams The Electric Company knows this.
It wasnʼt until I transferred to private school that snack time became a civilized coupling of cookies and milk. Crunchy cookies with delightful morsels of sweet delight, washed down with cold, smooth, soothing cow squeezinʼs.
Say what you want about Sister Maria and her Yardstick of Doom, at least nuns know enough to serve milk with their cookies.
