Note: Read the original "My First Day of School" piece that inspired this ongoing Aristocrats-style series.

I will never forget my first day at Kingston Elementary. Believe me, I've tried to my hardest to forget, but I recall it like it was yesterday. I wouldn't say I have the sharpest memory, but the dreams that frequent my sleep seem determined to keep the details fresh in my mind.

For the most part, the first day of school is an exciting opportunity to reunite with friends and start a new year with a clean slate. I'd be lying if I said I didn't experience a slight amount of excitement that year, but what little bit I did enjoy was mostly trumped by fear of the unknown bacteria-laden children that lay ahead.

I knew that while almost everyone attending school that day would be happy to see each other after a summer hiatus, I would be enduring the strange feeling of knowing nobody, as it was my first day at the new school.

It didn't take more than a second to recognize the fear in the children's eyes. With a single gesture I made one kid clean the chalkboard.To make matters worse, I had only just moved to town a mere two weeks prior, leaving all of my friends behind and hundreds of miles away. Needless to say, the ride to school that day was full of half-hearted optimism and feelings of homesickness and depression. Still, I remember feeling determined not to let my assumptions about the average intelligence of these kids get to me, assuring myself that things would work out for the best.

As I walked into the building for the first time I was very nervous and thought about turning around and running home. It took some courage, but I managed to convince myself that I was going to be fine and that all of my worries were simply in my head. After all, my biggest fear was having some snot-nosed kid sneeze in my soup, something I had seen almost every day at the other schools I've attended.

It wasn't long until I walked up to my classroom, pushing aside bad thoughts of germs and focusing on being optimistic. Before I walked in, I took a second to look in a perfectly placed mirror and reassure myself that I'm powerful and people respect me and that I was going to make the kids my slaves. Then I picked my head up and marched into class.

It didn't take more than a second or two to recognize the fear in the children's eyes. With a single gesture I made one kid clean the chalkboard. With a kick to the back of a chair I got another to fill the board with my name. And with a hard stare, I compelled Lenny, the kid near the window, to jump to his death. Everyone knew my name was Mr. Hansen.

Pretty soon a woman came into the room, and asked if we could talk for a moment. I figured she wanted to talk about Lenny so I obliged her. We moved our conversation to the teacher's lounge.

She was a nice looking lady, but I'd had better so I figured I'd take a chance and see where it went. I said, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world," which was a lie, but it seemed to work despite the obvious untruth. She said, "Stop," or something, and then I made a move. I pushed her head toward my junk and she obliged me with some mouth to genits action. Pretty soon she was begging for me to give it to her but I was bored so I zipped back up and told her to beat it. "As in, get the fuck out."

I smoked a cigarette from a pack that was on the table and then headed down the hallway. Meeting the janitor, we shared a drink and some smokey smoke. Pretty soon I was just walking the hallways. I guess nobody noticed me and I didn't know where the fuck I was.

I stumbled into the principal's office and he was in the middle of a phone call. I just started talking—I forget what about, I was so fucking gone at this point. He made me a drink, and we talked about everything that happened that day.

I explained to him how fucking stupid and easy to manipulate the kids were, and slowly I started to sober up. After about ten minute of watery eyes and sniffles, he managed to get me to stop laughing because he needed silence. Then he farted. Normally I don't laugh at infantile shit like that but I had to give him a tissue because he pooped a little.

Eventually, he told me he didn't think I was cut out to be a student at his school anymore. But he still bought some pot anyway, so it all worked out. Man, third grade was the best.

All "First Day of…" Aristocrats-style articles:

My First Day of School

My First Day at Prison

My First Day at the Cemetery

My First Day at Alcoholics Anonymous

My First Day of Senility

My First Day of Church

My First Day of School, Part 2

My First Day of Fat Camp

My First Day at the Circus

See new PIC posts via Twitter or Facebook.

Sign up for satire writing or improv classes at The Second City - 10% off with code PIC.