I blame my sixth grade teacher Mister McCardle for it all, I mean he started it all, someone had to, and he’s the best one to blame. Every time, every fucking time I did something wrong he would say it, without fail and the whole class would laugh as though he had just told the greatest joke in the whole world, but really he was just being a bully. ‘Huston’ he would say, ‘Huston, we have a problem.’ What an absolute jerk. It followed me around for years, but, I learnt to live with it, I mean, I had no other choice but to, and it just became white noise. That’s was until our class reunion, I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but at the last minute I thought, what the fuck, and decided to come. It was good, not great, but I caught up with a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years, a lot of them for various reasons, mostly though, because life had just taken over and we had moved onto other things. I drank, a lot, I mean a lot and that’s when she walked back into my life, Victoria Salan, the one girl I lusted after for years, I still remember many a night I thought about her naked and in my bed. Hell, she was the first girl I religiously masturbated over, and here she was, looking as hot as ever, and alone. Needless to say, in the last twenty-five years my small talk had improved and I was also drunk, so I made my way to her. We talked for an hour or more, about everything and nothing, it was amazing, and then, she suggested we slip out and explore the old school, I didn’t argue. We ran through the halls like little kids and ended up in our old class room and the next thing I know we’re both half naked and I’m telling her about my perverted thoughts from school and how I used to masturbate over her all through puberty, and beyond. She took it really well and suggested the real thing was much, much better. I almost came in my pants then and there, but managed to hold it in, she dropped the rest of her clothes and I did the same and we kissed, and that’s when it happened, she reached down and grabbed my limp, that’s right limp not hard, cock and stepped back, looking shocked, as did I, I didn’t know what to say, what to do and then she said it, those five fucking words, ‘Huston, we have a problem?’ And I lost it, fucking McCardle, the old bastard, it was all his fault, so I ran straight out of the class room, back into the old gym, still naked mind you, and ran up to that old fucking jerk, he looked shocked when he saw me coming, but still he just stood there and I threw the punch, a punch twenty-five years in the making, and knocked him to the ground. I wasn’t to know he was going to hit his head on the step and crack it open, I wasn’t to know it would kill him, and that’s the whole truth officer, I swear, he started it.
The challenge was, ‘Huston, we have a problem.’