What is the naughtiest thing you have ever done as a teenager?

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Mudassir Ali 8 months 2 Answers 549 views

Answers ( 2 )

  1. girl who had a super religious family. Like no-sex-before-marriage religious. I was over at her house and her parents saw her lay her head on my lap while we were watching TV. They were so upset that they said she was no longer allowed to see or even talk with me. They monitored her cell phone and internet usage to enforce their punishment.

  2. sixteen and 11th grade had just started. I was (like the book nerd I am) anticipating and actually looking forward to our English Literature class with jolly ol’ Mr.Smith*, the schools most laid back, chill teacher ever. The old guy was known for his quirky remarks, excellent sense of humor and his charismatic ability to befriend even the most trying and difficult kids of the school.

    So naturally I, an avid book reader (in secret though, because that wasn’t what the “kewl, popular” kids did back then), was excited to meet him. Little did I know I would come face to face with the one man, who I so graciously referred to as the devil’s spawn, who would make literature period a pain in the rear end for me.

    Imagine my utter disappointment (and judging by the girls sighs and “oohs and ahhs”, their utter delight) when the principal walks in with a Dave Franco look alike in tow. He was a the xerox copy of him, from the perfectly coiffed hair down to the effortless good looks and ridiculously, flawless, Colgate-ad kind of smile.

    He starts off by introducing the man who seems to be in his early 30’s and is already leaning against the table and flashing his brooding gaze over the whole class setting his Grande Starbucks coffee cup (remember this for later) down and folding his arms across his massive chest (the guy probably spent half of his life in the gym).

    Principal: “Class, unfortunately Mr.Smith was met with an accident and has shattered his hip bone and is prescribed bed-rest for awhile. So meanwhile Mr.Franco* will be your literature teacher. Please welcome him graciously.”

    Then he turns to Mr.Franco, fidgets with his tie nervously (Yes, this dude had an effect on men too): “They’re all yours, Dave!”, tittering like a teenage girl who’s face to face with her crush and practically skips out of the room leaving us in his hands. I sigh and slump deeper into my chair cursing my terrible luck as I can already foresee we’ll have one hell of a lesson with this son-of-a-demon

    Meanwhile, this dude is all calm and collected and staring us down. Sidenote, this is the most uncomfortable thing a teacher can do to his/her students. There was pin drop silence and we didnt’t know if we should speak up, look back at him, at the ceiling, Cecilia’s braids, count the tiles. Hell, what are you supposed to do in such a situation?

    He takes a mouthful of coffee, freaking swishes it in his mouth and slowly swallows. I’m now certain he’s either extremely dramatic or he’s trying to leave a weird lasting impression. Eventually, he puts us out of our misery and opens his damned mouth.

    “I don’t need to introduce myself further. You know my name and thats all you need to know of me. Still, if you have a question ask and I’ll consider answering it. Meanwhile, do introduce yourself to me. I like to get to know my students…better” and proceeds to grin creepily, like a hyena eyeing the lion’s prey. The way he said “better” and that pause; I still have goosebumps from it. Not the pleasent kind either.

    A hand shoots up in the air as he raises the attendance clipboard. Of course its Savannah*, the “hot, dumb as hell, God-knows-who-made-her-popular, freak of the class”

    Mr.Franco: “Yes?”

    Savannah, giggling and batting her eyelashes (typical): “I don’t mean to be rude…but do you work out? You did say if we had a question to fire away..”

    I can’t believe my ears. Actually I can. What else could she have asked? Are you a Byronic Hero? Her poor brain would probably freeze over worse than the first Ice Age, just thinking about such a “complex” term. And yes, no lie, she actually asked such an inappropriate question. Yes, I did feel an itch in my hand to slap my own forehead.

    Again he shoots that predatory smile all canines visible and gleaming. The girls, and some guys too, swoon thinking he’s flirting. The unaffected minority, roll our eyes. We know he isn’t. It’s like how a cat throws a gloating smirk at that helpless mouse a minute before it pounces and consumes it whole.

    Mr.Franco: “Well, we can discuss that later. This isn’t an appropriate literature-related question fit for the classroom environment.” His smile never falters. “I’m going to call attendance. Tell me a little about yourself apart from your name.”

    He starts taking attendance and no joke most of the females, have never been more attentive, sitting up straight, giving their full biography to this strange man and it’s slightly comical that only five minutes into this class and I’m already bored and irritated to my wits end. Even the guys are trying to leave a better impression of themselves on him.

    Finally, “Khan. Asad Khan?” I’m tempted to correct him that its not pronounced a-sad like “a sad boy”, but let’s get this over with sooner I think. “Present.” Silence. Expectant eyes on me, slightly narrowed. Strange. A muscle in my jaw twitches. I know that look. Unfortunately, I know it all to well. It screams racist.

    Full on bellows of racism. Still unsure of what I’m in store for but my rebellious blood starting to boil. I raise an eyebrow. “Asad Ali Khan. Originally Pakistani, Muslim. ”Which one do you think he disliked more. Pakistani or Muslim? Or both? He grinds his teeth and throws the fakest smile I have ever encountered. One word. “Great.” Yeah, I’m sure.

    That was the start of an onslaught of supposedly indirect and indiscreet verbal abuse. All directed towards me. Every chance he got. He openly, “jokingly” called me a Paki. Asked if I had ever “daydreamed” blowing someone up and other extremely derogatory remarks of the kind. I was always taught to suck it up. Don’t snitch. Handle your own issues in your own way.

    And damn was I a ticking bomb aggravated and pushed to a steady, soon to materialize explosion every passing moment. He was right. I did daydream of blowing someone up. Him. I wasn’t the best student perhaps for Mr.Franco either. I flaunted my roots and religion with pride. I did it more so infront of him. Needless to say it pretty much drove him insane.

    I had decided early on and was more motivated every passing day that I would extract revenge. I was just waiting for the ideal time. I had made up my mind.

    One day I caught him, alone after class, head bent over some papers. School had been out for an hour almost and the hallways were barren and deserted. This was my chance. I was going to get him in trouble and kicked out of the school. You see, if you hadn’t already guessed, the man was, well, interested in both girls and guys. So now was my chance.

    I knew I could seduce him, catch it on camera discreetly and get him fired, maybe involve him in a lawsuit too. So I stood as close to him as I could and lay my hand across his corded, thick arm. He jolted, surprised, as if I sent a current of electricity through him. I smiled back with a seductive, inviting grin as he froze, and I gently ran my fingers up and down his arm reaching down with my other hand for his visible…

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    Lmao, still reading, huh, you horny perv? :p

    Sorry I didn’t seduce him. At all. Although I’m pretty sure he actually was interested in both genders and would’ve played along nicely if I had tried. And sorry to disappoint there’s nothing sexual about this answer. Why am I writing in the naughty section then? Well according to the dictionary, naughty has a few definitions.

    In my case I took it as what was the most “wicked, michevious, disobedient” thing you did as a teenager. This story is actually true, well at least till the part where I said I’d extract revenge.

    As I said, I was patiently waiting to take revenge from this racist bigot. It didn’t help that he was actively trying his best to fail me in literature. Mind you, it was one of my strongest subjects previously. I also mentioned the guy loved his grande size Starbucks coffee (for non Starbucks drinkers that’s about 16 fl. oz).

    He drank it religiously Every single day. Watching him guzzling it down daily was what gave me the ridiculous but in my head brilliant idea. My father had brought home Miralax, a laxative solution, for some stomach issues and had quite proudly exclaimed that it worked remarkably well and fairly fast. My ears perked up at that.

    The particular brand I was using was where you mixed a proper dosage in about eight oz fluids and was tasteless which worked perfectly according to my plan. I also researched overdosing side effects and things along that line just to stay on the safe side. I’m sure you know where this is going by now. I lugged that Miralax powder which I had meticulously calculated more than the correct dosage of in a Ziploc with me everywhere for the next week or so patiently waiting for the right time to mix it in his drink.

    And then, finally, the occasion presented itself. As sheer luck would have it I was just coming back from the restroom and heading back towards class begrudgingly when the fire alarm went off. A fire drill. It could’ve been a real fire and absolutely a reckless decision to stay in the building but try telling that to a sixteen year old teenager who has been scorned and humiliated.

    I waited by the bathroom half hidden until I saw my classmates pass by with Mr.Franco leading at the front before sprinting back into the classroom. There it sat in all its glory. Mr.Franco’s coffee cup still quite full. I hadn’t a minute to lose. I dumped the whole two dosages and perhaps a bit more into his drink, shook it up and ran out to join the rest of my class in the courtyard and no one suspected a thing as other students were still arriving.

    15 minutes later we return and I took exceptional pleasure in watching him finish his whole drink, none the wiser. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t see the results of my prank with my own eyes but the seniors did inform whoever would listen that the poor man couldn’t sit still for a minute and ended up dashing mid-class towards the bathroom and didn’t make it before doom impended in his knickers.

    Needless to say he took the day off, with skid marks on his cream colored pants and tomato red face.

    To this day no one knew or suspected who or what was behind that incident and everyone assumed he just had a bad case of diarrhea. He did come back in full health the next day only seemingly a bit more humbled because the whole school would look at him and snicker. Apparently shitting in your pants doesn’t sit well with teenage girls either. He did however continue the racism throughout the school year but I stopped giving a damn, pleased with that one time prank.

    Moral of the story: Don’t be a racist prick with anyone. Especially vengeful teenagers.

    *Names changed to ensure anonymity of the people involved.

    Image source: Google

    Edit: For the lady who was upset over tampering. You’re absolutely right. Tampering with someone’s food is never ok. I was much younger back then and in my mind had evaluated and researched all the risks that could’ve taken place. Regardless, as an adult I would never advise someone of this. Report racism or try something a bit less extreme perhaps.

    As for the homophobic comment. I dare to disagree. I never showed disdain for him being bisexual. I merely stated an observation and to this day I don’t judge him for that one thing. To each his own.

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