Bostonian.
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Delorice
It was early in the century and your-mama-jokes were at their peak as the lowest fruit in the comedy peak. Not really my style but the guys in the class has an affinity for mom jokes. Although not the highest brow of comedy, one of the first things you need to do to succeed in comedy is know your audience. I guess I was a class clown. I was friends with everybody, very nice, no enemies that I can think of. Our senior year english class was very diverse when it came to cliques but we all got along  especially when it came to our jokes and pranks. Around Valentine’s Day we had an assignment to write a love poem. Maybe it was a poem in general, I don’t remember. What I do remember is the first day of readings, a member of my class wrote a love poem to my mother. I mean, who can blame him, she’s a lovely and wonderful lady. Her name is pretty easy to make fun of, so it was quite simple. We all got a chuckle out of it. So the next day I wrote this super sweet and loving poem. In the last line I threw in the name of a mother of one of the guys (someone who was always making jokes himself). He flipped out, got up, grab my paper, ripped it up, and threw it in the trash. The teacher had no idea why at first. But the student quickly told, which is a violation of the first rule, but whatever. I general, the teacher thought I was wonderful, I was one of the few male students in her women in lit class, was quite active in it, I was helpful to other students, and was all around nice. So naturally she was disappointed in me. We agreed that I’d get a zero on the paper, not really a huge deal for me because I didn’t always do my assignments, but than she also contacted my parents and the parents of the other student. That was awkward. It was no longer a victim-less crime (as if my affection is a bad thing). I never narked on him for any of his jokes, and were still friends. Maybe that was his attempt to prank me back. I guess that’s just how it is. This story seemed funnier in my memory.
