"I don't have a name."

So today as I'm heading back to class from lunch, a very angry young man comes busting out of the stairway yelling "Stupid redneck dickhead!" (The first funny thing is that I was heading to the Social Skills class that I teach. But, I digress. Back to the story.) So I look at this rather ticked off young man and he points at me and yells "Are you a teacher?" I had my staff shirt on which is a good thing since I have an aversion to wearing my badge. I calmly say "Yes. Can I help you?" Angry teen yells back at me "Stupid redneck dickhead just stole my book!" And just in case I didn't hear him the first two times, I asked "What?"

"Stupid redneck dickhead just stole my book!"

"Do you know who he is?"

"No. He's just a stupid redneck dickhead! But I know where he is."

"OK. Take me to him, but in the meantime please refrain from using the expletives. Because if we find him and you call him that name and you two start fighting, I can't do anything. I'm only 5 feet tall."

As we start walking up the stairs the kid tells me that this other kid just came up to him and stole his literature book right out of his hands. For no reason except that he is, of course, a stupid redneck dickhead. We get to the top of the stairs and sure enough, there's not just one, but four stupid redneck dickheads laughing about stealing a kid's book. I approach them and the older rednecks start looking nervous and scatter. I'm left with the young redneck holding the book. I asked him why he stole the book.

"Because someone stole mine and I needed it."

"What is your name?"

"I don't have a name."

Oh now you've pissed me off kid. "Really. That's quite sad. Where are you supposed to be right now?"

"Math."

"Good. Take me there. Perhaps your math teacher has a name for you."

I give the book back to the first kid and tell him he can go to class. We walk to nameless stupid redneck dickhead's class and go in. I ask the teacher if this young man has a name because apparently he has forgotten it, and that makes me a little sad.

"He's Horace Hopkins."

"My goodness. I'm so sorry. I would not have told you my name either. You are free to go." As I bolt out of the room and DIE laughing in the hallway. It takes me a good 4 minutes to compose myself.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED:
"Horace? Umm. OK. Horace. You need to come with me." So I escorted Horace to his administrator. Then I did the bolting and the laughing.

My son will never be a stupid redneck dickhead.

Well, maybe just the redneck part. And do you think Horace is a good name for my next baby? If it makes people laugh...