The New Spicoli

I like to party. I once crashed a 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 owned by Charles Jefferson, star of the football team. The car was a gift from a grateful alumnus. Jefferson's little brother was with me. I managed to wreck the car but my old man is a television repairman. He's got this ultimate set of tools. Unfortunately, I couldn't fix it. The next day at school, a large crowd gathered around the front entrance where Jefferson's totaled car is covered in graffiti. I made it look as if the rival high school, Lincoln, destroyed it as a prank. Jefferson vented his anger out on the Lincoln football team that night, winning the game and sending Lincoln's quarterback out of the game on a stretcher. I'm awesome, right?!?!?!?!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I somehow manage to always annoy Mr. Hand, my American History teacher. One time I called for a pizza delivery in the middle of class only to have Mr. Hand take the cheese and sausage pizza and distribute its slices to his favored students. It was cool, because Mr. Hand visited my home on the night of the big dance and administered an impromptu History lesson — long enough to delay me until well after the dance has started. Still, Mr. Hand relents on the question of whether or not he will flunk me, telling me that I'll probably "squeak by." This is good enough for me though, because all I need is some tasty waves, a cool buzz and I'm fine.