Everybody was Kung Fu fighting…except for Chester Rambo Zephaniac. The boy was clumsy, lazy, and not in my class out of free will. “Come take a karate mat,” I instructed him for the second time, as the rest of the class waited for him. He lugged his drooping body to the front and slowly….slowly…walked back. The mat fell on the ground and made a slapping noise on the linoleum floor. Normal people would have calmly lowered themselves on the karate mat, and then proceeded to cross their legs, but not Chester Rambo Zephaniac. You could almost hear the ground grunt as he plummeted his body downward like a gravity loving meteor. Never will you see someone sit down so painfully.
“Ok let’s just start off with some leg stretches,” I extended my right leg, and placed my left foot on my right thigh, the class mirroring me. I stretched my arms out and grabbed my toes. “One…” I started counting.
“Why aren’t you doing your stretches?” I heard a dull voice ask. Oh no. Peter Buck was sitting next to Chester. I could handle elbow strikes, palm heel strikes, front kicks, and back kicks all aimed at...
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