The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I’m pretty sure it’s in poor taste to take an idea from someone and run with it, but then again, a lot of these stories have very similar themes. I really had hoped for the author of this story to either polish it up a bit, or add to it. Sadly, they only ever made one post. Anyway, I’ll give credit for the inspiration to karlapoopypants because I cannot, in good conscience, sit idly by and watch a brilliant concept get buried under the sands of time. Oops, my SarcasmLock was stuck on somewhere in that sentence. Anyway, I’ve been questioning whether it would be alright to do something like this, or if would look like a big “fuck you” to the original author. Let me know either way.

I suck at this, and I’m sure it’s a terrible idea to post this without having already completed the story. (I very rarely finish anything, and don’t like only posting part of something, so I almost never post anything.) I’m fairly confident that I can actually manage this undertaking. Please level as much spiteful criticism toward me as you possibly can. I’m pretty sure I’m not even aware of glaring flaws, so I guess I need help finding them. If this sounds like a plea for pity, it’s not. Oh, and the first part is probably the weakest, due entirely to the narration, and lack of actual dialogue or interaction. I’m sure there’s a better way around this, but I haven’t figured it out; nonetheless, the later parts won’t share this weakness. I’m trying to find a balance between narration, internal dialogue, and actual conversation. You’ll have to wait a bit to see if I can get it right.

Before I end up typing more about the story than the actual story: Here goes.

Part One: The Info Dump

I’m kinda surprised this never made the news. I mean, it did; but it was our news, which is useless to me. Then again, I guess we never have made the national news; I don’t expect that to change any time soon; which is entirely unlike my friend, Deborah; who is expecting a change in the very near future. That, of course, brings me back to the point of all this; which is to recount the tale of Norton Mills High School, and how all of its students willingly wore diapers for three full weeks.

I’ll start with me; I’m Parker Lambert, but most of my friends call me “PK” or just Park. I wasn’t involved with any of this until the end. I was just an innocent Sophmore, trying to keep my grades up and stay out of trouble.

My Freshman year was pretty crumby. I’m the oldest of our little group, so all my friends were still in Middle school. But this year, three of my friends have joined me, so we’re happy to be around each other again. Of course, something had to go wrong and screw up an otherwise normal semester.

Near the end of my Freshman year, the school became the target of a series of vandalisms. Mostly it was just graffiti on lockers and bathroom stalls, but it escalated to smashing or painting over the emergency exit signs. This happened during the last two months of school, and summer vacation began before anyone was caught. The administration addressed this with warnings and threats at the start of the new school year, but sure enough, the vandalism continued.

Our school had been repaired over the summer, but sadly they weren’t able to come up with the budget for the security system they really wanted. They had, however, managed to get a few more cameras in popular locations. By the end of the first day, there was an enormous, red, penis, spray-painted pointing toward the principal’s office door. In all honesty, we found it hilarious, despite the immaturity. Okay, who am I kidding? These are highschoolers; that was just plain hilarious. The cameras caught nothing incriminating.

Just like last year, no one could catch the vandals. Sure, there were suspects and a few investigations, but nothing came of it. The typical rebellious crowd was everyone’s first guess. But surprisingly, they were present elsewhere, each time the vandalisms occurred.

Let’s skip ahead to October; that’s when things began to escalate.

“Hey Deb, you gonna come see that movie on Saturday?”

“What else is playing at that time? I need something to tell my Dad, you know he doesn’t like me watching that kind of stuff.” She slid some books into her locker.

“What about ‘Historier vi Berättar?’ It’s that Swedish film, I think.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to-”

BOOM! We both jumped. Whatever it was, it sounded like an explosion, and it sounded close. Most other students had stopped as well, and were looking around.

“Fuck this shit, I’m outta here.” One guy said, and started jogging down the hall toward the front entrance. A couple other kids followed him

Three seconds later, the fire alarm began to sound. Cue a standard fire drill, right? Nope, not even close. Try ‘mass hysteria’ or something similar. I grabbed Debbie’s hand and we managed to keep together in the throng of students fleeing the building.

The fire department showed up while we waited in the courtyard. A sizable number of students just went home, not bothering to wait for a head count or any statements. Eventually, the principal made the announcement that everything was under control; the cause had been found, and there was no more danger. School was canceled for the rest of the day, but would resume tomorrow morning unless another announcement was made.

‘Attention! As you all are aware, school was closed early yesterday due to a fire alarm. Upon further investigation, evidence was found that points to the use of explosives in both the men’s and women’s restrooms in the west wing of the building. The result is damage to the toilets, sinks, and partitions, as well as the plumbing. The restrooms in question are closed until further notice; please use the ones next to the chemistry lab, at the north end of the building, or the ones at the east end. Any information that leads to the arrest of the vandals will be rewarded.

Everyone was on high alert for the next couple of weeks, but nothing happened. Apparently the vandals decided to give us a breather. Rumor had it that the ‘explosives’ were just some high-powered fire crackers. I’m just gonna go ahead and hide my box of cherry bombs in case anyone comes looking. And the reason I said ‘couple of weeks’ wasn’t because we all calmed down after that.

I was actually the first one to discover the next vandalism, and was about to report it, when I heard a series of loud ‘pops.’ Again, the fire alarm blared, and we all collected in the courtyard. This time, no one left; apparently, some serious accusations were leveled at those that didn’t make the head-count. This time, it was a Friday; we didn’t get an announcement until the following Monday.

I called the principal myself, and reported my findings. Those were that someone had spray-painted “this ones next” across the stall doors in the men’s room in the east hallway. I didn’t see any other students around at the time.

On Monday, we were greeted by another bulletin, with a similar report and warning.

To avoid needless repetition I’ll hit fast-forward again. Aaaaaand stop! Here we are, December 21st, Monday.

‘To counteract the shortage of restrooms, more outhouses have been brought in, and are located at the east end of the building. As previously announced for the west wing, the emergency exit doors in that area will now allow free access in and out of the building. Once again, a large reward is being offered for any information that leads to the arrest of the vandals.’

“Are you fucking kidding me!? Are there any usable toilets in this whole fucking building!?” I turned from my locker to see Jeanette d’Amboise angrily hurling books into her own locker. I don’t actually ‘know’ Jeanette, but everyone kinda does. She’s one of the ‘rich girls,’ along with her sister, Madeline. You can’t really go to this school and not at least know who they are. Their family owns a lot of the businesses around here, so seeing ‘d’Amboise’ tacked on the end of a sign is pretty common. The point is that rich kids always get special treatment; if it’s gotten so bad that even having tons of money doesn’t fix it: it’s really bad.

“C’mon Sis, what’s the matter? Gonna piss yourself?” Her sister was across the hall, and stood with a smirk on her face.

“I’m gonna fucking sue this school if I do. Have you been to the outhouses? The seats are completely iced over.” She slammed her locker shut.

“Shit, why?” Madeline’s tone quickly changed to a serious one.

“I don’t fucking know…” Her voice faded out as I walked away, I’d heard enough of that.

Now is probably a good time to mention one important detail. Norton Mills county is in New Hampshire. If you still don’t see why that’s important, look at a map; we’re pretty far north. On top of that, we’re nestled between the mountains. I really shouldn’t have to tell you that it’s really stinking cold, and we get a lot of snow. You southerners can’t even deal with this kind of snow. No seriously; ‘snow day’ isn’t something we hear until houses start disappearing. You best believe that using an outhouse in these conditions is less than desirable, especially if you have to sit down. For that reason, girls had it much worse.

I saw Madeline again, shortly after lunch. She was coming from the west wing, and was in a hurry.

“You okay?” I said as she approached. She really looked bad, her face was pale, and she was holding her stomach.

At first, she didn’t notice I even said anything, and kept on walking; but then she stopped and turned around.

“You got any Tums or something? I’m sick as shit.” she looked in my general direction, but not at me.

“No, sorry. Maybe you should see the nurse.” I pointed down the hall.

She turned away as if I never spoke, and resumed her path.

“Fucking…” she was mumbling, I could hardly hear her. “…outhouses fucking frozen.”

“You sure you’re okay?” I called after her.

“I’m fucking fine.” She spoke toward the ground.

I closed my locker and made my way to the next class. History, as it so happened, was a class she shared with me. Normally, I wouldn’t be paying any attention in History, so there really wasn’t much reason to pay attention today. All through the class, I watched as Madeline rocked back and forth restlessly. About ten minutes in, I guess she couldn’t hold it any longer.

Getting up suddenly, she was still clutching her gut as she stumbled toward the door. She gasped suddenly, about three feet from the door. I could even hear a gurgling ‘wet-fart’ sound from where I sat in the middle of the room.

“Mrs. d’Amboise!” The instructor began.

Ignoring her, Madeline doubled over and rushed through the door. I heard her squeak as she disappeared into the hallway. I raised my hand.

“Uh, Mr. Orson, can I go see if she’s okay? I think she’s really sick.”

“Dude, she shit her pants.” I heard someone blurt out from behind me.

The instructor held up his hand to quell a surge of laughter. “Alright, Parker, you may go. Please return quickly if she’s okay.” He spoke in a monotone. “Everyone else, please direct your attention to the board; and yes, that means those of you who weren’t paying attention in the first place.”

I heard a groan, from the class as I made my way to the door.

Outside, I found Madeline, not even twenty feet from the door. Several other students watched, but didn’t approach. She was hunched over, with a palm against the wall. Her slim red dress pants were bulging, and darkened heavily in the back. I rushed over to her.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the nurse.” I put an arm over her shoulder.

She buckled, and I heard more gurgling. She was starting to cry.

“Fuck! Shit!” She cursed between sobs and sniveling. I heard a murmur from the other students.

Just then, the fire alarm sounded. Within seconds, the halls were full of students. By now, no one was really panicked, they were just expecting another early day. Unfortunately, that meant that they had plenty of time to see and smell Madeline, in all her misery.

“Maddie!” a male voice shouted from behind me. I turned to see a guy running toward us.

“What the fuck happened?” he exclaimed when he saw her condition.

“She had an accident, I think she’s sick.” I reported.

“Those fucking assholes!” she shouted in a flurry of tears and rage. “The fucking port-a-shitters are all fucking frozen. How the fuck am I supposed to use that?”

“It’s okay babe, let’s get you out of here.” The guy soothed. He looked at me for a second, then led her in the opposite direction of the swarming herd.

Some of the kids turned to stare as the couple left. I hesitated for a few seconds, then turned to make my way out of the building, and find my friends.

We were sent home for the rest of the day. Later that evening, we received call notifying us that school was canceled until after Christmas break, and would resume on Monday, January 4th. Something about inspections and clean up. Whatever, we got a nice long break because of it; I’m not gonna complain.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I literally have no idea how to respond to this one. So I’m only going say one random thing:


EDIT: When making a smart-ass reply meant as a joke putting the smiley in is quite important :confused:

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I have nothing against taking someone else’s idea and improving it, I believe it’s one of the best ways for creativity to grow.

That being said I’m a bit apprehensive at seeing a remake to such a classic; it’s a big undertaking and while you are a great writer I’m not sure you’re up for this task.

J.J. Abrams had to make Star Wars twice before they let him do it for real.

Seriously, very nice so far. Most I’ve laughed all month. I hope that this one keeps going.

Quite the school to go to: never want to see the day when explosions are met with “awesome, early day”. They seem to know what snitches get.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I like it so far, good job. I hope you continue. The original was an interesting idea, but horribly executed.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

It’s like you took the idea from someone’s rotten story and made it good. I will actually keep reading this.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I totally got your reply as intended, I guess I too, need to do better at using smileys.
Nonetheless, you’ve given me a signature that’s more for me than anyone else.

I’m being compared to J.J. Abrams?
I’ll have to put in some more lens flare.

But I’m curious about what actually made you laugh. My humor usually falls flat; what I find funny, and what others do, are usually polar opposites. I too found humor in the original, but I hope you don’t find it in mine for the same reasons. :stuck_out_tongue: (I’m practicing, Renko)

I just want to let it be known that I’m not bashing the original. Yes, I passed criticism on it, it needed it. But through the anonymity of the internet, I can never know who actually posted it. Thus, I will continue to dump what must come across as hypocritical criticism on stories that I like. Yes, I treat people and things I like like total crap. :stuck_out_tongue: Anyhow, I never like to just call something ‘bad,’ but I like to point what I think could improve it. Worst of all, I end up spending more time talking about stuff, than actually writing it. This is an attempt to not do that. I’ll return to my cave now.

Thanks for the replies, glad to see people are reading it. Criticism in any form is always appreciated.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Here’s the next part; this time with more dialogue.
Also, I swear that when I copied the first part in, it kept the things like italicized words. This time I had to change it all over again.

Diapers: Day One.

We came back from Christmas break, expecting things to be fixed, or at least improved in some way. Sadly, such was not the case. A notice was placed near the school’s main entrance; it stated that inspections had been performed, and that the number of outhouses was adequate to serve the student body. Furthermore, the notice also stated that the school board had no intention of repairing the restrooms until the vandals were caught and expelled.

It was Tuesday, of the second week into the new year and honestly, we were having a tough time. There were rumors going around that some students were starting to have accidents from trying to avoid the freezing cold port-a-johns. The bathroom issue was the first thing on everyone’s mind, we were distracted by our hovering fear of needing to use the toilet. Grades actually had dropped enough that parents were taking notice. Letters were written to the school board, but replies only the came in the form of direct accusations and legal threats; undoubtedly conjured up by some shady lawyer that the school must have hired to cover their ass- er… cover their butts.

I wasn’t really paying that much attention as I climbed the steps toward the school. My head was down, and I had pulled my coat collar up to shield me from the biting wind. Ahead of me, I heard someone gasp, I looked up just as a strong gust of wind whipped across the snowy school plaza. To my absolute shock and surprise, I saw, several steps ahead of me, a girl; slender build, long, straight black hair; dressed in a dark blue, fur hooded denim coat; knee length, brown, pleated corduroy skirt; dark hose; and honestly, I didn’t get as far as her shoes. Obviously, none of the above would cause shock and surprise; what caught my attention was under her skirt. Now, I wasn’t trying to look, (I wasn’t trying to look away either) but the wind was strong enough to blow her entire skirt completely sideways; exposing everything up to her waist. My eyes quickly followed her legs up until they led to the last thing I was expecting. Under her hose, but not in least bit obscured by them, was a bulky, bright pink diaper, with princess designs on it. Probably, it was just a pull-up, but that changes nothing. I clearly saw it, and there’s no denying what I saw.

Dropping her bag, she violently shoved her skirt back down, and turned to check if anyone saw. Of course, there I was, like a deer in headlights, looking at her with mouth agape. Her eyes grew wide, and her already rosy cheeks reddened even further as a look of dismay covered her face.

I did a quick check to see if there was no one else behind me, and finding us alone, turned back to her. When you’re thrust into a situation like this, it’s hard to think quickly, but I think I managed it well. Bringing one finger to my lips, I made the international sign for “Shh” and gave her the best reassuring smile I could muster.

Instantly her face brightened. A look of relief replaced her previous horror, and she mimicked my hand sign with a broad smile. Before I could take a step, she snatched up her back and took off toward the doors. Just as she was about to enter the school, she turned once more to repeat the hand sign, then disappeared into the front of the building.

It took me a second to realize I was getting cold, so I shrugged and made my way inside. I could’ve sworn I’d seen her before at an ice-skating competition, she definitely wasn’t wearing pull-ups then; her outfit would’ve given that away in two seconds. It struck me that it was probably related to the bathroom issue at the school. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that immediately; seems pretty obvious, after all.

“Hey Park!” I heard Deb call from behind me.

“Hi Deb!” I replied as she jogged up to me. “What’s up?”

“Can you keep a secret?” she leaned close to me and lowered her voice.

“Have I ever broken your trust before?” I shot back with a smile. One of the perks of not gossiping everything I ever heard, to everyone I ever met, (you know, like certain people do religiously) was that more people entrusted me with information than I imagine otherwise would.

Deb hung her head slightly, realizing the futility in asking me that question. “Well no, but this is super secret; so you can’t tell a soul.”

“Alright,” I said. “What is it?”

“Meet me by the gym’s back entrance, at lunch time.” She glanced back and forth quickly.

“Okay Deb, if you’re sure you won’t pop by then. That seems like an awful important secret.” I chuckled slightly, making her blush.

“It is.” She lowered her brow. “Be there, or I’ll be mad.”

I raised my hands in surrender, and backed away, toward my classroom. “Woah there, I guess I better show up then. I didn’t bring my EOD suit with me today.”

She stuck out her tongue, and I turned around to make my way to class. My classes, naturally, were as boring as watching paint dry, which really isn’t too far removed from what we were actually doing in the second one. Nonetheless, they were boring, and lend nothing to this story; so for your sake, I’ll skip over that part.

At lunch time, I hastily made my way to the designated meeting point. Debbie was already there, anxiously glancing up and down the hallway. The second I rounded the corner, she dashed up to me, took my hand, and started dragging me down the hall.

“In here,” she said, opening the door to the handicap restroom and pulling me inside. She quickly locked the door, and stepped back.

When I saw where she was dragging me, I had secretly begun to hope that she had found a bathroom the vandals had missed. Upon entry, my hopes were crushed by the view of an equally crushed toilet.

“Okay Parker, do you swear not to tell anyone?”

She used my full name, this was probably serious. “I sure do.”

“Alright.” She pulled up her shirt a bit, revealing some skin, and turned her left side toward me.

Shirt, skin, top of her panties, jeans, etc, in that order; nothing seemed out of place. “I don’t get it.” I shrugged.

“Look closer.” She tugged at the waist of her jeans a bit.

Maybe there was a scar or something; I leaned closer. I tried to keep my gaze respectfully away from the waistband of her panties, which honestly looked kinda childish; it was ruffled pink. Anyway, I couldn’t come up with anything. “Eh” I grunted, shrugging again.

She lowered her shirt, and put her hands on her hips. “You’re blind as a bat, you know that, right?”

“If you say so, but I’m not sure what I’m looking for.” I’m not a mind reader, either.

“Alright fine, maybe this will help.” She huffed, reaching again for the waist of her jeans.

In one swift set of motions, she had unbuttoned the front of her jeans, lowered them to her knees, then stood up straight and hiked her shirt above her midriff.

I turned away quickly, not sure what she was doing; but fearing a palm across my cheek for some reason I was sure to find unfathomable.

“No, look.” She said.

I obliged, my eyes going straight to what was now very clear as the thing she wanted to show me. Around her waist was a pink, girls pull-up, definitely not what I was expecting. I took a respectful three seconds to gawk; and she spun around to give me a full view before I could winch my jaw back up to my mouth. Much like this morning, I didn’t really have anything to say; but it did strike me as funny that she should swear me to secrecy, all while not knowing that I’d learned an identical secret from another girl, entirely on accident.

[i]You know what most people do when they find things funny?

Yeah, you guessed it; exactly the thing I should not have done at that time.[/i]

I know, what should have come next was a well-earned palm-print on my right cheek. (She’s left handed.) But instead, I had to rush forward and give her a firm hug. This’ll make sense in a sec, I promise.

“I’m sorry Deb, I didn’t mean to laugh.” I stroked her hair.

Only muffled sobs were the response.

“Let me explain, I truly wasn’t laughing at you.” I held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. She looked up, her stream of tears slowing for a second. I had to act fast. “It’s not funny what you’re wearing, honest. It’s just funny that you aren’t the first person I’ve seen wearing that today.”

She sniffled, and the tears stopped. “What do you mean?”

Phew! I knew I should have brought my EOD suit today, I don’t like defusing this sort of thing without it. “Well, pull your pants up and I’ll tell you.”

I really can’t say I was happy with myself for telling her to do that, but you know darn well that it was very distracting for me. My conscience was congratulating me, but other parts of me were cursing me in many tongues. Anyway…

“I was walking up the steps to school this morning, and I saw another girl was wearing one under her skirt and hose.” Oh shi- shoot, I left out an important detail.

“Parker Klein, why were you looking up a girls skirt?”

Ouch, I could feel the sting of her slap, and she hadn’t even raised her hand yet.

“Didn’t you go outside today? There’s this thing called ‘wind’, and it has a wind-like effect on unsecured articles of clothing; you know, like skirts.” Yeah, being a wise-guy is sure to keep my face in good condition.

“Go on.” She crossed her arms. I just want to point out that I now have Keanu Reeve’s bullet-dodging trophy, on my shelf at home.

“Well anyway, I couldn’t help but notice her bright pink diaper, after the wind gave me a full view of everything from boots to belt.”

“I thought you said she wore the same thing as I am.” She was setting a trap, but I didn’t know what would set it off.

“She was, it was just like yours; same print and everything.”

“This isn’t a diaper, it’s a pull-up.” Her eyes narrowed.

I had never before realized that there was a politically correct way to refer to various incontinence products; but I’m a fast learner, so I picked this up right away.

“Looks like a diaper to me; it does the same thing, right?” I mentioned I’m a fast learner; but did I mention that I’m a black belt in wise-guy kung-fu? I cracked a grin to let her know that I didn’t want to get hit at this exact moment; or at least, that’s what I wanted it to mean.

“Diapers have tapes, these don’t.”

“It sure looked like it did, to me.” I remembered seeing more than just the pink sides.

“Huh?” She looked down at herself, then felt around inside the waistband of her jeans. “Well I guess it does, but that’s just for adjustment,” she retorted, pulling her hand free.

“I’m pretty sure you can put those on, or remove them, without taking off your pants, just like a diaper.” My grin got larger with each statement. I was winning this one.

“Yeah, well they were meant to be pulled up; that’s why it says so on the package.” She huffed, but she wasn’t sounding as confident as before.

“They were also meant for seven year-olds; I hope you aren’t planning on actually using them.” I imagine she had considered it, but I won’t try to fathom her mind.

“So? They fit me just fine,” she tugged at the waistband a bit.

“I mean, you probably pee a lot more than a seven year-old. It’s gonna leak for sure.”

“The guy at the pharmacy said these were the most absorbent thing on the shelf,” she looked at me indignantly.

“If you say so.” I threw my hands up in the air. “So why are you wearing it anyway?”

She turned as crimson as her scarf, and, looking down, began to tug at the end of the red adornment. “Well obviously, the porta-potties aren’t an option for me, and yesterday, I kinda had a bit of an accident because I tried to hold it until I got home.”

My eyes went wide. “What did your Dad say?”

“He doesn’t know, but I don’t want to have an accident again. I mean, if it does happen again, I want to keep it a secret.” She kept playing with the end of her scarf.

“Well I hope this works for you, but I doubt it will.” I was pretty much sure that pull-ups wouldn’t do anything for her. They couldn’t handle my old friend Neil, and he was six at the time. Someone nine years older was bound to have an almost guarantee of leaks.

“If it doesn’t, then what will? Real diapers?” She looked at me pleadingly. How should I know? I’m not a diaper expert.

“Real diapers, like what?” You’re wearing a real diaper, please elaborate.

“Like Huggies, Pampers; tapes on the sides and all that stuff.”

“Probably even worse, those are designed for infants.” Did you not read the age range?

“They have bigger ones.”

“For big infants, not teenagers. It’ll be the same problem as those, just worse.” I pointed toward her waist. I was more accurately pointing at her crotch, but ‘crotch’ seems like such a rude word; not one I’d apply to her, even if she has a crotch like the rest of us. It sounds ugly, and she isn’t; I rest my case.

“Well what do you suggest then? I’m trying not to wet my pants at school, anything to help is more than welcome.” Debbie threw her hands up in frustration.

“What about adult diapers?” C’mon Deb, how did you not think of this?

“They make those?”

“You know, Depends, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, old-people diapers,” she started laughing.

“Uh yeah, adults.”

“No, I get it now. But I couldn’t think of anything other than cutesy colored diapers, except much bigger.” She was leaning against a wall, laughing.

“Don’t laugh so hard that you wet yourself,” I teased. In all honesty, there was actually a pretty good chance of that happening.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she wheezed. “But I suppose if these don’t work, I’ll have to try some adult ones.”

“Let’s just hope they have some small enough for your slim waist.” Like I’d even have a clue.

“Is that a compliment?” She looked at me with a smile.

“Is what?” Girl, what are you doing here? I wish I had my EOD suit, I just know something will blow up soon.

“Your slim waist.” she repeated back to me.

“Oh, uh…” C’mon dude, claim that one; don’t be stupid. “Yeah, I guess it is,” I smiled. And no it wasn’t an ‘Oh nuts, I just screwed something up, here’s the best stupid grin I can muster at this time.’ It was a genuine, winning smile; one I’d been blessed with, my whole life.

“And you’re just gonna drop it in there, all nonchalantly, while telling me I need adult diapers!?” Her eyes narrowed at me.

‘Hello, Saint Peter? Yes, this is Parker Lambert. I’d like to move that appointment up to about five seconds from now. Yes, thank you. I’ll see you soon.’ You idiot, that’s exactly what you just did; are you completely nuts?

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I just did.” ‘And these were the last words spoken before his death.’ My winning smile turned into an ‘Oh nuts, I just screwed everything up, here’s the best stupid grin I can muster at this time’ kind of thing.

“That’s so sweet. I’m so glad I talked to you.” She dove forward, and my heart only started beating again, after I realized she was hugging me.

“You’re my friend, and your waist is slim; what was I supposed to say?” I hugged her back. But metaphorically, I was tap-dancing across a minefield.

“So you don’t think I’m weird or stupid for wearing diapers?” She looked up at me with those big, brown eyes; one of them obscured by her auburn hair.

“No, I think the school is stupid for forcing you to need them. You’re very brave for wearing them. If I were in your position, I’d be so embarrassed; I probably wouldn’t even go to school.” You’re on a hot-streak dude, keep it going.

“Aww.” She cooed, “That makes me feel so much better. Do you really mean it? 'Cause I can’t imagine anyone being sweeter than you are right now.” I think she was on her toes to get closer while looking up at me. There is a height difference, in case you didn’t figure that out.

“Not even if they were as sweet as milkshakes at the Big Red Diner, on Saturday?” Thank you Lord, for giving me these words to say; surely this is divine guidance at work. I know I’d never be able to dream this up on my own.

“Are you…” Her eyes got wide, and she took a step back. “…asking me out on a date?”

“Only if you say yes.” Where’s that winning smile at? No, no, no; ah, there it is. It was spread across my face, ear to ear.

“In that case.” She paused for a moment. “Yes.” I could feel the earth start spinning again.

You may have heard the saying ‘Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes;’ so yeah, you can call me the Blind Squirrel from now on. I’ll spare you the rest of that day, it really didn’t live up to the hype of that moment. I’ll also skip over the rest of that conversation, it was kind of gooey and personal.

So while we’re waiting for the next day to begin, I guess I should take this time to explain some things. First, that date was a long time coming. Deb and I had been friends since Kindergarten, but it was only in this last year, while we weren’t at the same school, that I started having feelings for her. We had always been close, but it was more like brother and sister. I guess the separation drew us together. I still feel kinda weird about asking her out, just after learning that she’s wearing a diaper. But I guess it was a great way to say ‘I don’t care about superficial stuff.’ If it hadn’t happened to me, I’d never have thought such a goofy turn of events was possible. Nonetheless, we were officially a couple after that.

The second thing that I need to explain is her previous meltdown. You may have been scratching your head as to why a little chuckling could cause violent tears in a fifteen year-old, and you’d be right to wonder. What happened is that when she was four, her mother went insane. No, quite literally insane. Within the span of about two months, she went from completely normal, to being admitted into a mental institution.

According to the reports, they found evidence of long term brain-decay, (they used a more medical term than that) but could not find the cause for why it manifested so quickly. They basically concluded that she had been expertly hiding it for at least two years, but the damage traced back more than a decade. No cause was ever found, and I’m sad to say that she suffered a fatal accident, three weeks after arriving at the mental institution. There were questions about it being self-inflicted, or the fault of the staff; but she broke her neck by catching her chin on a desk, after she tripped while trying to cross a room. It was on camera, and very clear, nothing but the most unfortunate of accidents.

With that said, the important part about her mother’s decent into lunacy, was what she did to Debbie. She began a habit of throwing cookware at her daughter. No, not knives or utensils, but stuff like gravy dishes and coffee carafes. She never actually hit Debbie, instead, she would throw the objects so that they would shatter right above her daughter’s head. When she wasn’t doing that, she would ridicule Debbie by pointing at her, and yelling in incomplete sentences. And finally, she would laugh and jeer at her four year-old daughter, pointing and making faces, for hours on end, until her husband came home; at which point, she would act completely normal. It wasn’t until a neighbor saw her doing it, that anyone had a clue. Poor Debbie was too scared to say anything at the time.

It’s been eleven years since then, and she mostly fine; but she absolutely terrified of being laughed at. She can joke, and we can laugh about many other things; but if anyone laughs at her, she breaks down into uncontrollable sobbing. I’ve beaten up many other kids for laugh at her, and yes, that meant I got beaten up sometimes. But as her closest friend, it’s almost my duty to protect her from being traumatized. As you read above, she only needed to think I was laughing at her, in order to start crying. It might’ve taken me more than a sec, but as promised, it should all make sense now.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Still going strong.

To answer your question I found the school’s whole situation to be darkly amusing: sudden outbreak of crime, things blowing up at random, the unapologetic apathy from the students and the school’s inability to stop it to the point where they offer massive rewards for even the slightest hint. It’s just so over the top and the escalation is perfectly paced across the first chapter.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Here’s the next part; this time with more dialogue.
Also, I swear that when I copied the first part in, it kept the things like italicized words. This time I had to change it all over again.

Did you copy and paste into the quick reply instead of using the full reply page? If so that’s why. You have to click the Reply link at the very top or bottom of the topic to get it to honor those, and the WYSIWYG editor has to be on. It looks like you have it off by default in your account, so unless you click the red A button it won’t maintain the formatting. You can toggle it per post, or you can set it as the default setting here. I will recommend not using it as the default if you use Firefox. The newer 32bit builds have issues with it, and so do the 64bit builds if you have less than 4GB of RAM unless you’re using a Nvidia graphics card.

EDIT: I accidentally dropped a word :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Thanks for confirming that I’m stupid, not crazy. :stuck_out_tongue:

Good to know.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

I remember the original being posted here, and skimming it briefly. Unlike the original, you’ve managed a reasonably plausible situation, one which I read properly. You’ve got me watching this one to see where it goes.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Still going?

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Yes, just slowly.
I’ve suddenly become swamped with work, and other time-consuming things.
If I actually find some time in the next few days, I’ll be able to update.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Sorry for the delay.
Not only do I not actually have enough time for this, I’m not even making the best of the time I do have.

Also, I was about to post, and suddenly realized that I wrote this whole chapter from a present-tense, first-person perspective. You know, instead of just the internal dialogue, I wrote the whole thing like that, and didn’t notice until I was about to post.
Writing is hard.

Anyhow, I’ll have time to put some real hurting on this… eventually.

Diapers: Day Two.

You know, not a lot actually happened at school on Wednesday; at least, not much that I saw. I met Deb in the morning, but didn’t catch up to her at lunch. I tried texting her, but got no response.

It wasn’t until I was about to leave, that Paul told me what happened. Sorry about these introductions; Paul is a guy I met last year, we share an interest in motorcycles so he works with me in our garage sometimes; we’ve got some project bikes that will never be truly finished. Anyway, enough back-story; his name is Paul, and that’s all you really need to know.

According to Paul, he saw Debbie run off, crying, after a group of kids began laughing at her. That was pretty much all I needed to hear; Debbie was sure to be horribly upset and I needed to be with her as soon as possible.

Fortunately, she didn’t live far away, and I’m a wicked-fast runner.

I greeted Georgia, Deb’s step-Mom, who just pointed down the hallway. Inside the bedroom, I found my girlfriend (wow, gonna have to get used to calling her that,) curled up in the fetal position. She was silent, but a stain on her pillow told the tale of many recent tears. I approached her, pulled her to a sitting position, and embraced her. She didn’t respond in any way for quite some time.

It could have been five minutes, or two hours, but Debbie just leaned against me in silence. Her breathing didn’t change from normal, so I knew she was still awake. After a while, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye; it was Mr. Peake. He saw us, put his finger to his lips, then made the A-OK sign, and closed the door; turning the handle before it latched, and releasing it at the closed position, so it wouldn’t make noise. I don’t think Deb even noticed.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I’m aware that the above scenario usually plays out in a completely opposite manner. Parents usually open bedroom doors, make ‘I’m watching you’ hand signs, then walk away, leaving the door wide open. However, I’ve known Mr. Peake for a long time, and he knows what my stance on sex is; he’s confident that I won’t be doing all sorts of dirty things with his daughter.In a situation where she has a traumatic episode, he just lets me soothe her, and leaves us alone. I’m glad to be trusted alone with Debbie.

I imagine you could re-read from the beginning, up to this point, in the amount of time I’ve been sitting here. But finally, gradually, she begins to stir. I rub her back slowly.

“Is my Debbie alright?” I asked as softly as I could.

A muffled “Mmmmmm.” was my only reply.

“Who did this to you? Just say the name, and I’ll go kill them.”

Slowly she pulled away from me. Her reddened eyes looked up at me as she began to speak. “My personal bodyguard; you used to beat up people who hurt me. Why do you want to kill them now?” I little smirk let me know she was lightening up.

“You’re my girlfriend now, honor forbids me from letting your attackers continue to draw breath.”

“You and your honor. I swear, you should’ve lived a thousand years ago.”

“But you didn’t live a thousand years ago, what would I do with myself?” My grin widened.

“Find a woman who isn’t a diaper-wearing crybaby.” Her tone darkened, and she lowered her head.

“I want nothing of the sort.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “How about you just tell me what happened, okay?” I prompted her with a smile. She heaved a monumental sigh then paused for several seconds.

“It was Krista.” She broke away and moved over to the vanity.

Pause the tape for a sec. Krista is another friend who advanced to highschool this year. She’s been a friend of mine for as long as I’ve known Debbie. Actually she’s been Debbie’s friend for longer, they’ve known each other since they both were three.

Okay, sorry to interrupt again, please keep reading.

“What? Krista? What’d she do?” My eyes followed Deb across the room.

She didn’t reply, instead she unbuttoned and lowered her jeans to the floor, kicking them aside as they met carpet. A pink pull-up still covered her, but she grabbed one tab and pulled it free; I averted my gaze. Apparently, she must have looked back.

“Don’t you like what you see?”

I peeked, just to find her looking over her shoulder at me with a sly grin. “I really like what I see, but I’m trying to show respect.”

“Well, if you must be a gentleman, you can turn around that way.” She turned to face her vanity, then gestured over her shoulder with her thumb.

I spun around to face the opposite wall and was immediately greeted with a similar view, except I was included this time. She tore loose the other tab, and let the pull-up hit the floor with a light thud. She met eyes with me in the double reflection between her vanity mirror, and the one I was now looking into.

“If you’re done enjoying my new mirror, you can give up being a gentleman and just turn around.” Her smirk told just as much as her taunting words.

“I guess you forgot that I appreciate modesty.” I shrugged and turned around.

She paused and shook her head at my reflection before unfolding a fresh pull-up, and quickly slipping it up to her waist. She faced me and put her hands on her hips.

“Are there any other attributes that you appreciate in a girl?” she asked, sticking her tongue out at me.
Why Deb? Why do you make it so hard for me to stay out of trouble?

“I think it’d be really cheesy to say ‘yes, and that you have all of them,’ but that’s really all I can come up with.”

“What am I gonna do with you?” She’s shaking her head again; I guess that was too cheesy.

“Stop torturing me, hopefully.”

“Fine.” Turning around, she started digging through her drawers. “I’ll put some pants on.”

Naturally, she went ahead and grabbed some white jogger pants. The tight pants contrasted her loose-fitting turtleneck sweater; but my attention was drawn more to the exceedingly obvious diaper bulge, than anything else.

Actually, scratch that; I came here to console a traumatized girlfriend, I think we got off track a bit.

Okay, a lot.

You know what? This really wasn’t my doing anyway; first she cries, then she flirts, I still don’t know what actually happened yet…

“Was that diaper wet?”

“It’s a pull-up, and yes, it was.” The soggy garment had been discarded, and she rejoined me on the bed. “I just didn’t feel like leaving the room earlier.” She looked down.

“So, do you want to tell me what happened?” I slid up beside her as she leaned against the headboard.

She sighed heavily and leaned against me. “Everything went wrong.”

I just waited. It’s best to let her tell it in her own time.

“Well Krista and I met up for chemistry, as usual, and she asked me how I was doing. I told her I was fine, but she was really asking about my accident on Monday. She asked me ‘what if it happens again?’ I said that it wouldn’t, and she kept asking further. I had been planning to tell her about my pull-ups anyway, so I whispered it to her.” Debbie’s voice started to crack a little. I just put my arm around her, and waited until she was ready to continue.

“But she didn’t believe me, so I showed her a little bit, like this.” She pulled the waist of her pants down a little. “‘That’s not a real one, is it?’ she said. I showed her some more.” Debbie pulled her waistband down even further, revealing the decorative print. By this point, it was evident that she was getting upset again.

“Take your time, Deb.” I said, pulling her closer.

“Well, then she said ‘Oh my god, that’s a real diaper!’ and started laughing.” Debbie sniffled a bit. “There were some kids who saw me, and heard her; they started laughing and pointing.” Debbie’s words were broken up by sobs. “I took off right then, and came straight home.”

“Oh Debbie, that’s horrible.” I stroked her wavy hair for a couple minutes while she cried. Even though I had my arm around her, I felt miles away. If that sounds too gay for you guys, then screw off. This is what I was talking about before, she ends up like this, and there’s not much you can do. I can’t convince her that ‘it’s not like that,’ if it’s exactly like that.

“That was just the trigger,” she sniffled; wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’ve been in bed all day, trying to tell myself it was an accident, that she didn’t mean it, that those other guys were laughing at something else; but they weren’t.” She leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. “She’s right about me being a baby, I can’t even go a whole day without an accident. Those guys knew, they all knew I needed to be changed; just like a helpless baby. And that’s what I am.”

Pay attention to the above; does it match what she just said before that? No, of course not. That’s the worst part about her traumatic spells, once you set her off, she imagines a worst-case scenario of what could have happened, and that’s what gets stuck in her head. Fortunately, she’s no stranger to reason, and I can help her immensely if I can help her realize what’s real, and what’s just her imagination. Her psychiatrist supports this method of dealing with these episodes.

“Deborah Peake, listen to me.” I use her full name for this command, it helps draw her out of the horrors of her mind.

Her head snapped up, and she looked at me.

“Krista never called you a baby, did she?”


“Did she?” I repeated.

She slowly shook her head.

“Exactly. Did she ever say anything about you not being about to hold it a whole day?”

“Well… no.”


“But she’s right, I can’t even hold it a whole day.” Tears welled up in her eyes. Stay with me Deb, don’t go back there.

“No, listen. She never said it. And why does it matter if it’s true; almost no one can hold it all day, I can’t even hold it all day!”

Deb didn’t respond, but her face told me that she understood. Good; we’re getting somewhere. I got up and made my way over to her pile of clothes. I grabbed up the pair of discarded jeans; sure enough, they were bone dry. I tossed them over to her.

“You wore these today, right?”

She nodded.

“And just a minute ago, you changed out of your wet pull-up?”

Again, she nodded.

“But you said you wet them because you didn’t feel like leaving the room.”

Another nod for confirmation.

“So how could those guys know you were wet and needed to be changed, if you only wet at home? I’ll bet my bank account that those pull-ups would leak if you wet them twice.” I pointed to the trash can. “There’s only one pull-up in there, which means that you didn’t change twice…” I pointed to the jeans in her hands."…And those are perfectly dry, which means you didn’t leak."

She’s not arguing, that’s pretty much a guarantee that I’m on the right track.

“The only thing that happened was that Krista laughed, which she shouldn’t have, and those other guys laughed. They don’t know you, you don’t know them, they only saw a girl in a pull-up, and heard the word ‘diaper.’ There’s no context for them, you could’ve lost a bet, or it could’ve just been frilly, granny-panties that just looked like a pull-up.”

She seemed to brighten a little.

“Remember on Tuesday, I laughed because I’d already seen a girl wearing the same pull-up? Krista might’ve been laughing for some other reason, so could those other guys. You don’t even really know why they were laughing; you only think they were laughing at you because you know you were wearing a pull-up.” I moved over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She looked at me with those big brown eyes, and a look that was desperate to believe my words.

“You aren’t a baby, you’re just dealing with a problem that’s not your fault. You aren’t even the only one who wears pull-ups; if I saw one other girl, I’m sure there are plenty more. And we both know that Krista is kinda tom-boyish, I’m sure she’ll come apologize soon.”

I looked her dead in the eye. “Do not make it worse than it really is.”

“But she called me a baby, she really did.” She looked straight at me and her eyes filled with tears.

“No she didn’t, you said so yourself.” I pulled her into a hug.


“No buts. Don’t let your imagination hurt you.”

She was silent again.

“I guess you’re right.”

“It’s okay.”

“Even still, I think I’ll just stay at home tomorrow,” she signed.

“No you won’t,” I commanded gently. “You’ll go to school as if nothing happened. I promise that no one will even remember.”

“But what if they do?”

“Then you just find me, and I’ll come beat them until they’re crying; then you can laugh at them.”

She laughed a little. “Alright, I guess I’ll have to go and find out.”

“C’mon, let’s get some food, I can smell it all the way in here.” It’s time to get your mind off of this for a while, no reason to hide in here all night.

I think her Dad and step-mom noticed her pull-ups right away. The pants hid absolutely nothing; they probably made her pull-up more obvious than anything else. We had a quiet dinner, and Debbie returned to her room while I spoke to her father. I explained the situation as best I could; but he was still planing to talk with Debbie, after I left. Makes sense anyway, most highschoolers don’t come home crying and wearing diapers. I figured I’d say goodbye to Deb, and stop at Krista’s house on the way home; she had some ‘splainin’ to do.

“Goodnight Debbie, I’m gonna head on home now.” I massaged her shoulders a little; she was leaning over her desk, working on some homework.

“Are you disappointed in me?”

“What? No. Why would I be?”

“Because you said I was brave yesterday, and now I’m having a total meltdown.”

“The only way you could disappoint me, is if you were someone else.” I leaned next to her. This might be totally cringe-inducing, but I’ll have you know that I mean it with complete sincerity.

“Where are you stealing these lines from?” She turned around and gave me an accusing stare.

“Uh… from my big book of cheesy one-liners.” I scratched the back of my head. Don’t do that fool, that’s a sure sign that you’re nervous; act cool.

There was a lengthy pause, then she raised her brow to a less-threatening level.

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” She broke the silence abruptly but, didn’t move from her desk. I slowly made my way to the door.

“Hold on a minute Parker.” I turned around at the door; she was standing beside her chair, facing me. “Where do you think you’re going?” What on earth? I just told you where I was going, not even ten seconds ago.

“Uh, I was gonna head home.” I gestured behind me with my thumb.

She approached me. “Did you forget that I’m your girlfriend already!?”

“Uh… no.” This is your Admiral speaking; it’s a trap! Watch out!

“Then shouldn’t I at least get a goodnight kiss?” RED ALERT! RED ALERT! I don’t know what to do!

She stepped a little closer, looked up at me, and puckered her lips. Kiss her, idiot! She’s standing right there! Don’t botch this!

I leaned down a little to match her height, turned my head, and planted my lips on hers. Too rough you moron, you nearly broke her teeth. She recoiled a little, then leaned into it. I’ll admit that I counted seconds out in my head. One one-thousand, two one-thousand. Three one-thousand; and… pull away slowly. Wait! Shoot! I was supposed to do something with my hands.

She pulled me back in for another round. This time she put her hand on the back of my head; holding me in place. I managed to get my limp arms onto her shoulders.

When we were finished, she smirked. “That was okay I guess.” She taunted. “You certainly need some practice.”

“Are you, uh… disappointed in me?” Coincidentally, this mimicked her previous, depressing, comment and (hopefully) turned it back to something more playful.

“Of course not. But even if we’re not gonna be in bed all the time, like some other couples; you could at least kiss me every once in a while.” She poked me lightly in the chest.

“Sorry, I’m not very good at being a boyfriend I guess.” Don’t chuckle nervously- NO! You did it again!

I chuckled nervously.

“Goodnight Parker.” She waved at me playfully. I made my exit.

I didn’t see a manual for this sort of thing. What did I get myself into? I’m tripping over myself here, I gotta pull it together.

“See ya later…” Her dad looked up from his book, as I passed. “…Parker.” He finished after a pause.

“Yeah…” I mumbled.

In retrospect, my face was probably beet red as I stumbled into the frigid dark. I didn’t even think to wipe my mouth off until I got outside. I’ll be there was some lipstick there too. Wow, I didn’t know I could possibly be such an oblivious clod. I almost forgot to stop at Krista’s place. I checked my phone; it wasn’t that late yet.

Arriving at the front door, I knocked, and was greeted by her mother. I lied, telling her that I was here to give Krista some things for school. She told me to head upstairs, that Krista was doing homework in her room.
“…school bathrooms being broken. Richtig?” I heard someone’s voice speaking with a thick, foreign accent.

“Yeah, anyway, she…” Krista’s voice was drowned out by talking downstairs. “…a fucking diaper!” Who are you talking to, Krista? This had better not be what I think it is.

I stood in her doorway, she was in video chat with someone. She didn’t notice me.

"Wirklich?" Said the other person. Oh please speak English, I didn’t take German, but this sounds like it. I can’t understand a word.

“Yes, really.” Krista answered, laughing. I didn’t move. “Oh man, she looked adorable. Huge brown eyes, looking like she was about to cry. And to top it off, she was in a pink diaper.”

It’s hard to describe exactly how mad I was at that moment. Let’s just say that I was furious, and leave it at that. Nonetheless, I didn’t move or make a sound; I wanted to hear the whole thing.

"Ich habe noch nie so etwas gesehen." The reply had a surprised tone. More German, kinda wishing I had taken that class instead of French.

“Me either, when I said she was a baby, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve haven’t laughed so hard in ages.” Krista laughed. I can’t believe I stuck up for you. I managed to convince Debbie that you HADN’T called her a baby, but you HAD!

“Sie ist wirklich empfindlich, nicht wahr?” The other person sounded slightly concerned. Okay, next time someone speaks in German, I’m gonna demand a translation.

“Yeah, Deborah, she is a little sensitive-.”

“She’s the most sensitive person you know!” It was all I could do to keep from shouting.

Krista spun around. I didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“I’ve been over at her house for hours, trying to calm her down. I came over to hear your side of the story; hoping that it was just a misunderstanding, but I can see that it clearly wasn’t.” I took a couple steps into the room. I could see that I was in view of her webcam, as whomever she was talking to had stopped talking, and was watching intently.

“What!? When did you get here?” she asked hurriedly.

“Right about the time you started talking about my girlfriend wearing diapers.” I spat back.

“Oh shit, I uh…”

“Listen here, and listen well. I came here expecting to find that you didn’t mean to hurt her. But it looks like you still think it’s funny; funny enough that you’d tell it to your friend here.” I pointed at the monitor behind her.

“She’s from fucking Germany!” Krista raised her voice. “What does it matter if she knows!?”

“It doesn’t.” I checked myself; speaking slowly and enunciating heavily to add emphasis. “What matters is that you clearly aren’t sorry. I mean come on! You’ve known her longer than I have; you should know better than to treat her like that. It was all I could do to get her to come back to school tomorrow.”

“Okay, well now what?” she crossed her arms.

“Stop me if any of this isn’t exactly what happened.” I told her what Debbie told me, but I’ll go ahead and skip over repeating a story you’ve already heard.

“Nope, that’s all true.” Krista replied flatly when I had finished.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” she pointed at me.

“I didn’t”

There was silence. I broke it.

“I guess if you don’t have a reply, that means we’re finished here.”

“Well I guess so.” She mocked. “Sorry to waste your time.”

I’m not the one you should apologize to. You really hurt Debbie, tell her you’re sorry.” I made my exit, no reply followed me down the stairs.

Krista is a little rough around the edges, but I didn’t think she’d be this rough. Actually, nah, I definitely saw something like this coming. It made sense, Krista being insensitive, and Deb being so delicate; it was like keeping a bull in a china shop. But still, they were long time friends, I thought the Krista had reigned in her rough mannerisms to accommodate her oldest friend.

Clearly, I had thought wrong.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Since the original story seems dead, and you’ve credited the original author with the idea, I see no issues borrowing it. If anything, it’s a kind of homage.

The original was a brief PPL WERE FORCED INTO DIPERS story, this has the added love story developing and more character development. I like the direction you’re taking this. Setting up the vandalism over months, and destroying the flush toilets, makes the port-a-potties a plausible solution. It being in New Hampshire and it being friggin’ cold and unpleasant using a privy in the depths of winter sounds true.

The story teller speaking to us in asides is quirky, but I’m finding I like it.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

The author of the original hasn’t even bothered to login once since posting it, so it’s not just dead, it’s a rotting corpse at this point…

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

So we scared her off? Or s/he was a troll. Either way I’m not surprised. It’s unfortunate if she was honestly trying, though. Unexpectedly, I think that story could have been salvaged without a complete rewrite. With some more exaggeration it would have made a great comedy. With slower pacing it could have been a half-decent, if standard, story. Wouldn’t be the worst first-try I’ve read.

Re: The Story of Norton Mills County Highschool

Honestly, I’m not sure what happened there as they never subscribed to be notified of replies and when I sent out the mass email to authors who hadn’t logged in for awhile a few months back their email address was one of the ones that gave a hard bounce because it had been deleted by google :confused:

Please continue this story

That author rarely, if ever, comes by the forums these days, and he did explicitly add the abandoned tag to it.