Story of My Life.

Today, at fourth period P.E I get a new lock and put it on my P.E locker. All is well, my locker is fine, my lock is working perfectly. I shed off my clothes and slip into my P.E clothes. I stuff my bad, my books, and my other clothes into my locker. I slam the locker door (because, that's always fun) and I put my lock on. I close it. All is still well, and I skip away with my friends to P.E. I do shoulder exercises, make a new friend whose name is Ereck and enjoy myself. Oh, and what do you know, P.E is over, time to go back to the lockers and slip back into our comfy, stink-free (let's hope) clothes. I dial in my locker combination and pull down on the lock. But wait, it won't open. I try again. And, again it won't open. Hmm, because it's a new lock and I've successfully left the little sheet of paper with the combo in the locker it's possible I'm dialing in the wrong lock combo. Yes, that must be it! So, I go to Ms. Takemoto's office. She is not there, but Ms. Spencer is. "Ms. Spencer," I begin and explain my situation to her. "Oh," Ms. Spencer respnds, "Ok, you need the yellow paper to fill in your information? Ok, here you go." What? I don't need a yellow paper, weren't you listening?? So, I explain again the horrible situation I'm in. "Oh. Ok," the finally understanding Ms. Spencer says, "You need to write down your serial number and go to supervision to ask for the combo." What? Go all the way to supervision during my lunch? I don't think so. But I write down my serial number anyways, planning on doing exactly what Ms. Spencer said. However, Ms. Takemoto walks by and behind her trails a long ray of hope. Changing my mind about going to supervision during lunch, I inform Ms. Takemoto of my situation. She asks for my lock's serial number. Oh no, is she going to tell me to go to supervision as well? No, she is not, because as I think this she dials in the number for the supervision office and asks for a lock combo associated with the serial number. Hooray! It's a successful phone call, because she comes to me with the lock combo. But wait, what? That's the lock combo I've been trying all this time. I tell Ms. Takemoto that, and she herself tries to open the lock. It won't budge, stubborn piece of metal. She tells me my lock is jammed, stuck, unable to open at my will. Oh crap, just great. This is exactly what I needed, to be deprived my books for the next two periods and walking around in my ugly, odorful P.E clothes. Ms. Takemoto, however, advises me to go to supervision after school and have them cut my lock off. Ok Ms. Takemoto, I'll do exactly as you say.

After school, I go to supervision. "I bought this lock. . ." I start off. After explaining my very desperate situation, the supervision lady tells me to go all the way to the locker room and have the P.E coaches call in to request a security gaurd to cut off my lock. Excuse me! I've been waiting in line for 15 minutes for this! Because I was in such dire need to rid myself of my P.E clothes, I did as she told. With my luck, I shouldn't have been surprised when I found that the P.E teachers were not in the locker room. Great, now what? I go back to supervision, and explain my this new situation to the supervision lady (I've got to learn her name). And, because she is so kind, she called in a security gaurd and asked him to cut off my lock and I lived happily ever after. NOT! No one was answering her calls! Why, because they all either went home or had their radios turned off. Nicely done. If this was a school-wide emergency. . . The supervision lady tells me to look for a security gaurd, a specific security gaurd with blonde hair tied in a ponytail and shades. Just another obstacle in my path is what I tell myself to calm down. I go in search for the blondie. And, because God must've been smiling at me in that moment, I find her just where the supervision lady said she'd be. The one good thing that happens in my on-going eventful day. I tell the security gaurd what I had told the supervision lady and Ms. Takemoto. She says she'll meet me in five minutes at the locker room. Yay! I wait there. And precisely five minutes after, she arives with a crow bar and I know that at that moment, I was at my happiest. I go in, show her my locker, and with that glorious crow bar she tries to snap open my lock. It doesn't work the first time and I start to grow uneasy. But, at the second try, my locker door was swinging open with all my beloved contents in it. I finally shed my stinky dinky P.E clothes off after having worn them for at least two hours. And the minute my legs grazed the insides of jeans, I was in heaven. I now have a new locker, 286, with a new lock that opens like it's buttered.