At school one day, during Social Studies, I made a pyramid with my buddies. We poured plaster over Styrofoam, To make something cool, something to take home.
After school on that Friday afternoon, I was on the city bus heading home soon. Making my way back from my middle school, I brought home with me something that was cool.
I had a rubber glove, full of plaster, A bad idea, it was a disaster. I paid no mind, but push came to shove, And it exploded, that damn plastic glove.
It covered the bus in white sticky paste, In a few seconds, I had been disgraced. I panicked; knew I would get a beating, My impending doom, I would be meeting.
The sixth grade bus was all white and grimy, And the driver came and beat my hiny.