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phyweiw

铁杆木虫 (著名写手)

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[交流] Memoir of senior high--part three

On the first day of the new academic term, the machete stayed in my schoolbag, a left-shoulder-carried one, with the zip closed only two thirds, just to facilitate my pulling out the machete in emergency.

Stepping into the campus, raising the breath from pubic region, feet on the seven stars, I stared around at my classmates. I found out neither any sort of aura of death nor anybody looking like rapist or murder. Rather, many of them wore glasses.

During the three years senior high career, I saw once in a while some classmates PK in their dormitories, I saw once in a while some classmates group-fight in the cafeteria, but most of them just rotated seizing the opposite sides’ hair in hands. The scenarios were less funny than what I had enjoyed in my junior high. Over three years, I didn’t pull out my machete one time, I didn’t use the Band-Aid one time.

Until graduation, not a single case of who were raped or who were chopped into pieces was heard. I was a little bit disappointed.

On the day I had to leave the school, I came to the toilet with my schoolbag. I drew out my never-used machete. It was still that machete with one-ci-and-three-cun long, but was then badly rusted.

I threw the machete into the manure pit. I was shocked by the jingle in the cesspool. How come the crashing sound between metals? I craned my neck and looked into the cesspool. Over there, I found a Wudang sword, two iron stick and three knives.

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