I made this thread earlier, but due to not having any pre-written content and me being on mobile, it died within a half hour. So, here I am again, telling you all the story of Frank.
I'm a senior in high school (18, don't worry), and I'm in art class with this kid named Frank. He's obviously autistic, but not in the way you'd imagine. This kid might very well grow up to be the next Chris-chan.
>pic related. It's him
Frank is a very special snowflake. He's clearly autistic, and much like his tard-brethren Chris-chan, he's a reason to support abortion. His voice is so high-pitched that not even dolphins can hear it, he complains about almost everything, he talks about plans as if he's thinking out loud, and he sometimes mutters things under his breath that make no sense at all.
Even worse, his parents may or may not be white-supremacists who spoil him rotten. But worse still? He's in ninth grade. He's a fucking high school student.
>>594033519 >Be me two years ago, sophomore year >Frank’s been enrolled for about a month now >Going to middle school English classroom to pick up paper from their printer >Overhear history teacher giving a lesson in her room >They’re talking about Niggerland-I mean Africa >Look through door of classroom for a quick glance >Frank’s in there >ohboyherewego.jpg >”Okay, so who can tell me the capital of South Africa?” the history teacher asks >Frank raises his hand and the teacher calls on him >”Do we HAVE to talk about this?” he asks, his chipmunk-like voice piercing through the walls. “My parents don’t want me learning about Africa.” >Fucking WHAT >Teacher just stands there, dumbfounded >”Um… why not?” teacher asks >”WELL, my parents say it’s not a very clean country.” >clean country >He just called Africa a fucking COUNTRY >teacher becomes visibly angry and brings him towards the door >I get out of there and go to get the paper >I hear the sound of Frank getting pushed against the wall and slapped by the teacher >Nearly burst out laughing >She just fucking SLAPPED him, not hard or anything, but still
>>594033679 >One week later >Frank begins showing up to elective classes, starting with art on Wednesday >Great. I’m in that class >He gets brought down by his counselor about ten minutes into the class >I get up to go get some paper for some random sketching, but leave my jacket on the chair to mark that I’m sitting there >Come back a few minutes later to find the little shit has taken my seat and is randomly fiddling with clay >Fuck, now I have to talk to him “Hey, I’m sitting there. Think you could move?” >He looks up at me, gives me a stink eye, and goes back to “sculpting” “Did you not see my jacket? Dude, I’m sitting there. Move.” >”WELL, you weren’t here when I got here, so I sat down in an open seat. Finders keepers.” >What >Agitated, I push him forward and grab my jacket off the back of the chair >”HEY!” he yells >And here we go “What?” >”You can’t just take something off the back of my chair!” >Is this kid fucking serious? >”But didn’t you take his chair?” one of the counselors running the elective chimes in. “Besides, that jacket belongs to Anon.” >Frank becomes furious and flips the chair before coming straight for me >Counselors have to restrain him and bring him to the vice principals office >Elective ends >One hour later, after lunch >Walk past vice principals office on my way to my next class >See Frank curled up in the fetal position crying in one of the chairs in the office >Laugh and continue on my way
>>594033998 >December >About a week to go before school gets out for winter break >It’s a Tuesday, and that means the cooking elective has the run of the cafeteria before lunch >Elective ends. People begin flooding into the lunch room >On two tables are what the cooking class made: fruit smoothies >One of the tables is surrounded by all older students, pleased with what they made >The other table consists of all older students… and Frank. They all look dejected… except for Frank >Frank is pleased with the way they came out, but the others? Not so much >It’s easy to tell why. Their smoothies look like brown, fruity shit >Frank probably took the helm for this one >Teachers come over and ask what the smoothies are >The happy group says their smoothies are strawberry with a hint of lemon >And Frank’s group? A clusterfuck that includes eggs, sugar, chocolate, and bananas >A teacher drinks one of Frank’s smoothies and becomes visibly disgusted >Others follow suit and have the same reaction >The students at Frank’s table all look like they want to kill themselves >”Frank…” a teacher says, gagging. “Who taught you this recipe?” >”Oh! My mom taught me it! Isn’t it great?!” Frank replies >The gagging teacher goes over to the sink and spits it out >Frank fury mode: Activated >Pissed, he gets up, takes the rest of the other group’s strawberry smoothies and throws them in the garbage >He’s immediately brought to the vice principals office, struggling to break free of the counselor’s grip
I later found out that the recipe he was talking about was a cake recipe.
>>594034384 >Just before February break now >Art again >Frank’s focused on making a model of the solar system out of cardboard, styrofoam balls, acrylic paint, and popsicle sticks >We don’t have that many tools to work with, but someone talented could make that project work >Unfortunately, Frank is NOT talented >Go over to have a peek at the monstrosity he’s creating >Dear God, it’s horrendous >The planets are a mish-mash of colors that don’t make sense, he’s used the cardboard to make a really shitty space-shuttle, and the popsicle sticks are hot-glued to the planets to keep them steady >Teachers go over and compliment how “amazing” his work is >I cringe on the inside >Fast forward a week to after vacation >Frank comes back to the art room to find his solar system, if you could call it that, has been damaged, likely by the janitors >He becomes furious once again, throwing the entire project into the trash bin and beating it down >Counselors have to try to calm him down, while he goes on and on how the janitors intentionally destroyed his project >Look around the classroom. Everyone is groaning and rolling their eyes >One kid even points a finger gun to the side of his head and pretends to kill himself
>>594034623 >Next year > About two months in. I’m a junior now >Still in art on Wednesdays. Still have to deal with Frank >Today, he’s brought in a box of Legos to fool around with >”What’cha got there, Frank?” one of the counselors asks >”Oh, it’s a box of Legos.” He says >noshitsherlock.png >”Plan on making anything special?” the counselor asks “Why do you people have to engage that thing in conversation?” I think to myself >”WELL, I plan on building a house to add to a Lego village I’m making at home.” He says. “Would you like to see it?” >Without giving the counselor time to respond, he pulls out a brand new fucking iPhone and shows a picture of the village to the counselor >I peek over discretely to see just how bad it really is >Holy fuck. It’s worse than the solar system >A clusterfuck of random bricks painted to look like various houses in really shitty quality paint >But that’s not what’s concerning. The real problem lies in the background of the picture >Boxes, stacked all the way to the ceiling, each one marked with a different brand of Lego >Star Wars, Speed Racer, Bionicle, Lego City, the works >”Looks cool, Frank.” The counselor says sarcastically. Frank apparently doesn’t pick up on that >”Thank you!” he says, going to another picture. “And these are the rest of my Legos.” >Oh my dear sweet Jesus that’s a lot of Lego >It was more than just the boxes stretching to the ceiling. It’s an entire room full of Legos >Boxes overflowing, each labeled as a different brand of Lego in really shitty Crayola marker handwriting >Hundreds, maybe even thousands of dollars in Legos, in this one child’s room >No way one child can be this spoiled >Chris-chan got lucky with that contest back when he was a kid… but this? I don’t think there were any contests involved
>>594034983 >April >Sitting down with friends at lunch >Open seat at table, expect another friend to show up later >I’m across from a grill, let’s call her M >M has acted as Frank’s mentor ever since he came to the school >M is in senior year now, and is graduating soon >Frank comes over and asks if she can help him with some overdue work >”Does it have to be right now?” >”WELL, it’s due next block. I just need to do a few more things.” >She smiles, apparently thinking that the thing standing next to her is cute >”Alright. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I can do.” >”Excellent!” he says, sitting down at the table to join us for lunch >[internal screaming intensifies] >Everyone at the table looks at one another, almost shocked at the fact that he’s here >Conversation soon resumes, and eventually Toy Story gets brought up in conversation >We all start quoting our favorite lines, but then Frank chimes in >”STOP! This is no time to be quoting a movie!” He yells >Everyone at the table gives him a death glare >That’s when I notice his lunchbox >It’s Star Wars themed, but not any of the movies, no. >It’s themed to the shitty 3D Clone Wars series >I stare in utter disbelief >We all get up and leave at once
>>594035657 >End of the year arrives >M is gone, and Frank is in an emotional rut >Yay, summer and all that bullshit >As a celebration, the school decided to take the entire student body to a nearby park for a day away from academics, strictly for fun >A large group of people decided to play a game of kickball on the park’s baseball diamond >Unfortunately, Frank was among those interested >Teams are split up, and I end up on Frank’s team. I’m first up in the order and Frank is last >We don’t end up going through the rotation until the third inning, but when we do, some of Frank’s autism takes center stage >Frank barely hits the ball past the pitcher >Other team doesn’t have a catcher for some odd reason, so the pitcher has to run from the mound to home plate to get the ball >Frank should at least be able to get a single, right? >Not on his own, he can’t >The kid’s top running speed is pathetically slow. He chugs like a fucking freight train >Pitcher, out of obvious sympathy for him, lets him get to first without throwing the ball >I’m up next >My kick sends the ball flying to left field. An easy double if the runner in front of me was fast, but… no >I got stuck behind possibly the most autistic child in the country >By the time I make it to first, he’s barely halfway to second >The ball makes it back to the infield and at second before he’s three-quarters of the way there >He somehow doesn’t see that, and keeps running towards the base >Unsurprisingly, he gets tagged out, and unsurprisingly, he doesn’t react well >”OUT!” the counselor/umpire yells >He flips out, pushing the second baseman to the ground and storming off the field >”STOP TEASING ME!” he screams >Two teachers follow him off the field >He’s forced to sit out the rest of the game
Remember, I don't have a lot of content since I rarely see this kid. After this thread, if any more interesting things come up, I'll post them in a cringe thread.
>>594035925 >Fast forward to this year. Senior year, bitches >School has a new campus, and Frank’s pretty happy about that >He now sits alone at lunch, mumbling to himself about God knows what >A few new students have tried to socialize with him, but they quickly realized their mistake >He’s still the same old autist. With the same old parents who keep spoiling him >But recently, I found something out about his life at home >Be in art class about a week before winter break, randomly sketching with my friend. Let’s call him H >Both H and I can’t stand Frank, but we find watching his autistic struggles to be amusing >We overhear him talking to one of the counselors about an igloo he’s making out of cotton balls >”Do your parents keep your artwork?” the counselor asks >”WELL, no, not really. MOST of my stuff is either put in storage or thrown away.” He says. “My mom says we don’t have room for it.” >My face goes blank
>>594036591 >His own mother throws away his shitty artwork? She doesn’t keep it like any other parent would? >She… she knows. She fucking knows >”Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings?” the counselor asks, a hint of concern has arisen in her voice >”No, not really. Our house is pretty cluttered, so I understand.” He says >My jaw drops. Cluttered house? Child with obvious autism? Shitload of toys? Awful artwork? >This is when I realize the connection. This is where I notice I’ve seen this before >This kid is going to grow up to be the next Chris-chan >I stare at the blank paper in front of me in utter disbelief >This is not happening. >I ask if I can go to the bathroom. Teacher says yes, and I get up to leave >As the door shuts behind me, I hear a cluster of things falling apart and Frank moaning in anger >Fast-forward to today. I had art again >Frank and another, less-autistic student have begun working on building a model ocean liner >They’re planning on building it out of cardboard, styrofoam balls, acrylic paint, and popsicle sticks
2/2. That's all the content I've got, guys. I could tell you some specific stuff about him if you want, but I don't have any other autistic drama of his.
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