Is this going to be Paul Markham day on GFY ?

I just have a kinda funny story about the retarded kid named Paul that I went to high school with. A lot of kids picked on him, though usually nothing too bad.

One day he wanted to play basketball with me and my friends, and my friend Tom started making fun of him. Tom started kinda dancing around and saying "Paul, Paul, the bad mother fucker, Paul. Paul's a bad mother fucker." Well I guess Paul had heard enough of it and decided that he was going to fight Tom. Paul was about 5'8 and weighed maybe 100 pounds, but he snapped, and charged Tom.

As he ran over to Tom, his eyes and mouth were wide open. He made that "UUUUHHHH" tard sound. Paul had REALLY bad teeth, they were all crooked and yellow. He bit Tom and wouldn't let go. Tom freaked out, he started yelling for help and trying to shake his arm free. It looked like something out of a bad horror movie, like Attack of the Retarded Vampire. None of us could help him, because we were laughing so hard.

Eventually I think Paul forgot why he was biting Tom and stopped. People didn't pick on Paul too much after that.

In my 7th grade class, we had a tard who was really good at math and growing facial hair, and really bad at just about everything else. He was pretty much harmless, which was a good thing since he was physically ahead of the rest of us by 5 years and probably could have kicked all of our asses at once, but there were some funny moments, one of which I still remember clear as a bell 15 years later.

It was a normal day in the 7th grade. My friends and I were behaving like the bunch of little assholes that we were. In the afternoon, a couple of people who were affiliated with the police dept. showed up to talk to us about child abuse. Out came the goofy diagrams and movies where we got to learn that little Johnny made a big mistake putting his hands in his pockets and walking up to Mr. Molester in his 70's A-Team van. Don't walk home alone, scream "fire" if someone grabs you, blah, blah...

Then the lights came back on, and the two people from the police dept. started talking about how most sexual molestations were committed either by people that the kid knew, usually either family or friend's of the family, and how important it is to tell someone if that ever happened to one of us. Even 13 year-olds get a bit quiet when the subject of being butt-raped by Uncle Bob comes up, so the room was very quiet when Ms. Friendly-Cop asked the class, "Are there any questions that you'd like to ask us?"

Of course, there is dead silence at this point, as none of us want this conversation to continue any longer than it has to. Then, all of a sudden:

"Next door Paul made me suck his dick."

*loudest noise ever as someone drops a pencil on the floor*

Let me tell you, each and everyone of us kids wanted to be ANYWHERE but sitting in that classroom that day. The class tard was sitting in the middle of the room with everyone staring at him, from kids to teacher to the two cop wannabes. Finally one of them asked him to come outside and talk with them, and we didn't see him again for about a month. The principal was called in, and some psychiatrist lady showed up the next day to counsel our ever so slightly-more warped minds.

From the little I could find out later, "Next Door Paul" was another tard a year older than we were. Apparently he had a penchant for wanting to act out the things he saw on certain cable channels when the tuning knob let you see the picture - or hear the sound, but never both damnit! - through the scrambling. And I swear on my ability to ever score again with a hot chick that this is a 100% absolutely true story. It's one I like to tell when I'm shit-faced drunk at parties - which is about the only time I'm low enough to tell it, and given my lack of class, that says something about the story, trust me.