I’m surprised I never told this story of my youth yet on the o’le blog. It’s one of my few stories where I actually, pardon my French, fucking dominated my shithead 6th grade pussy classmates. Many of them have gone on to become doctors or have visible abdominal muscles, but they can never take away the glory I had this day.

My middle school had a tradition of having a Medieval Day at the end of each year. I’m not sure why. We only learned about that era in history class for about a week. I think they chose this part of history because it was the cheapest. If the food or decorations didn’t arrive they could just say the delivery man died of plague and everything would stay in character.

In order to participate in this event you had to dress up as someone from the era. Basically the only choices were if you were a female you dressed up like a princess or a peasant and if you were a male you were a knight or a peasant. All the boys in my class said they were going to be knights because knights are so much cooler than peasants. I was going to wear my regular clothes and be a peasant but because everyone else was going to be a knight I decided to be one too.

knight costume

(I thought I’d look like this…)

My knight’s uniform was nothing more than a black shirt my mom had that kind of looked like a knight’s chainmail. I shouldn’t just gloss over the fact that I wore one of my mom’s shirts to school but it almost feels irrelevant to the rest of the story. A knight’s job was to participate in what the school considered a jousting contest. We didn’t have horses or anything like that. Instead we had to stand on a line of tape on the ground and make sure our feet didn’t come off while we hit each other with our swords which were essentially socks filled with more socks. Why did I go to such a cheap and wimpy school?

bad knight costume

(…I looked more like this)

The day of the actual Medieval Day came and most boys were peasants or gay princes. One classmate was the “Kid Formerly Known as Prince.” He was always a trendy dick. There was a mini-jousting tournament held in each classroom where the winners would advance to finals where they could hit classmates with socks in front of the rest of the grade. It actually wasn’t the entire grade, just my half of the grade. We were split into two halves and…blah blah blah you get the point.

I had to beat two classmates to advance to the finals. I don’t remember who the first was but the second was a lot taller and had a face triceratops face. After I won the biggest whore in the class was sent out to report to the other classes that I was Mrs. Kroelinger’s champion. Mrs. Kroelinger had two sons. How does a man with the name Kroelinger ever get laid? That’s irrelevant. What matters was I had made it to the finals.

The finals would take place in the auditorium, like I said, in front of a shitload of people. My first opponent was the tallest kid in school. I didn’t move at all when he hit me with the sock. He ended up falling off the line anyway because he was so grotesquely tall. The teachers talked with each other and said I had to at least make it look like I was trying otherwise I’d forfeit. My mind games weren’t allowed. It was at that moment I learned schools are good for one thing, killing innovation.


(I was basically the Leonardo Da Vinci of hitting people with socks. I need to start telling this to women more)

I defeated the tall kid best 2 out of 3 taking the first two. My next opponent was a really athletic kid who bruised me he hit me so hard. I was fat though and wouldn’t budge. I beat him 2-1 by the hair of my balls. I think everyone wanted him to win because he was kind of popular. I blame my unwillingness to take a dive as to why I never had a date to prom.

When the finals came I had pretty much became the favorite. I was the underdog. Funny thing about the guy in the finals against me, he was the same boy who beat me at Madden and rubbed it in my face at our Up All Night Giggle Fest only two years earlier. I had vengeance in my blood is what I was saying. He had shown me his asshole and now I was about to turn him into one–or something more clever.

The judges each round were two different unbiased female classmates who had nothing to gain from who won. The winner of the jousting contest got their class the opportunity to eat at the Medieval Day Buffet first. My whole class was dependent on me. They needed to eat before everyone else. Our classmates had filthy hands and they would certain pass along way too many germs. Getting to dig your fingers into the food first meant the difference between life and having a cold. The two judges for the final round were the hottest girl in school and a girl who is dead now. I guess they wanted the finals to have a wide range of experiences.


(Milli Vanilli, my favorite female duo where the ugly one is dead and the hot one lives on)

In two quick matches I devoured my opponent. I showed no mercy. I have little respect for anyone who shows me their blonde asshole. I was given a trophy and my teacher told me to celebrate as much as I wanted. My class ate first and I was popular until the end of the school year. The school year was only another week unfortunately. The next year everyone forgot how awesome I was and I had to start from scratch. I think the moral of the story here is they should have given us real swords because I would have still won anyway.

P.S. I think I wrote about this before but it’s awesome to remind people who I was cool for a 24 hour period. Plus there was food, violence, and I mentioned a hot chick.

  1. rebecca2000 says:

    Sounds like a great cross-dressing day at school. People with socks should be quaking in their boots.

  2. twindaddy says:

    It sounds like much was learned here.

  3. Pen says:

    Leonardo Da Vinci of socks??? Be still my heart.

  4. I knew that sooner or later we would find out what you are really good at… I also suspected that it would have something to do with a sock…

  5. tinkadele says:

    I particularly liked the description of “grotesquely tall”, really conjured the whole scene up. You never cease to impress us…

  6. The Waiting says:

    And all while wearing your mom’s shirt. What a proud moment.

  7. Lily says:

    I loved dress up days like this. That’s a really good story about you actually accomplishing something cool. I probably would’ve thought the “Kid formerly known as Prince” was so funny and cool. I hate myself.

    • Mooselicker says:

      Well I made up the Kid formerly known as Prince so you think I’m funny and cool however you probably also hate me because of this. I had few victories back in those days. The entire school pretty much got back at me the next year in 7th grade. Wow that was a terrible year.

  8. Pete Howorth says:

    Damn we never had anything like that when I was a kid, why is England so boring and shit? I need to be reborn and be American. It’s funny too because America has never had any knights! No doubt when you were cool for those 24 hours, you knew how it felt to be me every day of my life. 😀

    • Mooselicker says:

      Most of American history has to do with owning slaves or being mean to black people. We have to steal things from other cultures on history dress up days. I have no doubt you could have lost this competition and still been cooler than me.

  9. she who has no filter says:

    you there. i’ve nominated your ass for the liebster award. your instructions to be followed can be located in my blog post “something that doesn’t suck.”
    should you choose to accept.

  10. SingingTuna says:

    “…the delivery man died of plague and everything would stay in character.”

    Socks inside of socks? This is making me laugh, cringe, and wonder all at the same time.

    For some reason I was imagining your “Stick Prison” inmates while I was reading. I wonder what medieval shivs looked like.

    I want to see the trophy.

    • Mooselicker says:

      I’m not sure if they even let me keep the trophy because I don’t remember ever placing it on a shelf which I would have. I think it was a tinfoil piece of garbage.

      You’re not far off imagining any story I tell in stick figure form. My life is a cartoon after all.

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