Wayzata, MN—Following an absent-minded hand-washing in the bathroom, seventh-grade history teacher Mr. Z, 26, found himself the object of ridicule upon returning to his classroom with a wet mark on his khakis.
The stain in question, a 13cm diameter dark spot to the right of his zipper, was brought to the attention of the class by his least favorite student Leighton Voss. "Look everyone, Mr. Z pissed his pants," the C average pupil jeered.
The entire class erupted into a cacophony of rhapsodic laughter the likes of which had not been seen at the middle school since Jamie Bean hacked the morning announcements. The cachinnation was unending, each momentary lull succeeded by another minute-long crescendo, time only seeming to increase the intensity of their vile mirth.
“This will be my legacy,” Mr. Z lamented as the unadulterated guffaws of 13-year-old pubescent banshees rang throughout the hallways. “Not the dedication or passion that I poured into every one of my lessons, but the fact that it looked like I pissed my pants that one time.”
At time of reporting Mr. Z had used his lunch break to drive home and get a new pair of black pants.
