Worm Dissection
So in 11th grade, I was in a class called "life science" or something similar. Mr. Rossheim was my instructor, and on this day we had to do a dissection. A worm dissection.
Rossheim was strict and so my partner was the person who sat next to me, which was structured alphabetically. So Amanda Arvidson and I prepared to dissect our worm.
But not before Rossheim gave us a lecture. This was our first dissection and he wanted to be very clear: we were to treat all of the specimens with the utmost respect. They were once living animals, and if not for our education, they would probably still be living animals. We were not to do anything we wouldn't do to a real living animal. Or rather, anything Rossheim wouldn't do.
That's all fine by me, as that's my attitude about it anyway. And it doesn't really matter to Amanda, because she's all "OMG NO WAY I'M TOUCHING THAT THING!"
So I do all the work, dissecting the worm, pinning it open, identifying parts. There's not much to a worm. All I really remember is the crop, which is like an intestine where the worm processes the dirt it eats. So it's full of worm poop, which is like mud.
Anyway, we had to do some worksheet or whatever, and then we're sitting there waiting. We're done, but other people are still working. Rossheim is walking around helping some other tables.
Amanda picks up a scalpel, and I watch--fascinated--as she takes the scalpel and starts poking stuff. Clearly against the rules presented by the lecture.
She soon grows tired of that, and apparently wants to move on to better things. She re-grips the scalpel and begins wielding it like a machete. On maybe the second or third chop, she connects with the crop.
In one of the most magic moments of my entire life, I watch in amazement as the crop explodes, sending a portion of its poo flying into the air, in a parabola my Calculus teacher would have been proud of, which lands directly on Amanda's bottom lip.
Oh, there is a God!
Amanda went screaming into the bathroom while I tried to contain my laughter.