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King Hall

King Hall


Description : King Hall
August 1, 2012

Sex Education.

No matter your age (sixteen or nineteen), or what school you attended (Commoner or Mystical), this class was still “are you kidding me” worthy. Knowing this as fact wasn’t difficult because I had endured Com schools from kindergarten through to my high school graduation. Even so, because of my switch to a Mys school, and because Law dictated Mysticals weren’t adults until they were twenty-two, I was currently one of the few sophomores at King Hall University slinking down on my seat as Mr. Busk — or, Mr. Beak, as I “intellectually” called him — strolled in front of me, dropping two condoms on my desktop.

Mine wasn’t the only lucky desk he added this stunning addition to. He placed two condoms on everyone’s desk. To add insult to injury, Mrs. Fowler — I had no mental nickname for her because I actually liked her — lifted a basket and began placing an extra-enormous banana and a normal sized banana on each person’s desk.

Rambling to the front of the room, Mrs. Fowler sat the basket on her desk and dug into it. She cleared her throat, lifting an extra-large banana high into the air. “Mysticals are naturally more endowed than Commoners.” With her other hand, she raised a regular sized banana, holding them side-by-side. Point made.

“In review of last year, and in case you go against our teachings,” the entire class got the hairy eyeball, “abstinence, if you’ve already forgotten,” a look at the bananas in her hands, “you need to be prepared for the variation of sizes.”...
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