Average high school day in Murica

I’m an American high school student in 2020. There are multiple school shootings a day. Every teacher is now armed. Veterans patrol the halls on mobility scooters with built-in miniguns. The Algebra 2 teacher is handing out the quiz, her body armor jostling around. I reach into my backpack to take out my calculator. Her M16 is already trained on me. “DON’T FUCKING MOVE.” “I-I need my calculator.” “THIS IS A NO CALCULATOR QUIZ.” “I-I thought I could use my calculator.” “YOU THOUGHT WRONG.” Tense pause. She lowers her weapon. A school shooter takes this opportunity to snipe her from the back of the room. Her brains splatter all over my face. A second school shooter in the front wheels around with a shotgun, blasting the first shooter because he doesn’t want to share the headlines. The cute girl next to me holds up her ballistics shield half a second too late. I try to run for the door. A veteran mobility scooter flies into the room firing 100 rounds a second into my upper torso. As my carcass joins those of my classmates, I die happy knowing that I’m still freer than Europoors. My family gets charged $10m for medical expenses plus tip.

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