Ode to The Pompous Prick in My History Class

You sported the Louis Vitton bag with your earth-toned scarf,

You raised your hand in a festive manor,

every time the professor asked a question to the class,

You would speak in a supercilious voice,

a voice that makes most people’s ears bleed ,

You may not realize it,

but most people in the class feel the way I do,

You do not have to show off your sheer brilliance,

You could just keep it to yourself,

but no, that’s not your style,

I saw you in the bathroom after class,

I was standing at the urinal next to you,

You kicked your leg up in a Bruce Lee-like fashion,

flushing with your leather Coach dress shoes,

allowing your hands to be germless,

What a bitch,

What a bitch you are,

You go home,

alone,

Your hand and a bottle of Vaseline is the only cure to your loneliness,

sweet dreams, Pompous Prick in my History Class,

I’ll see you in class tomorrow.