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Bobby flopped back onto his second-hand and slightly-ripped linen couch, groaning and stretching his arms out on either sides, exhausted. "15 lap practice, 15 lap practice and what the hell does that have to do with Coach's 'obligation to lead', geezes crusty apples....!" Bobby swore at the stain on his living room ceiling (the one that had been there since last year, when the old couple upstairs that just won't quit their bedroom activities let their bathtub overrun and leaked a perfect circle on top of where Bobby usually sat. Bobby had developed a certain familiarity toward this ceiling stain - it was as stupid as his 8th graders.)After 15 laps around the track, he then had to get the kids through afternoon Economics Finals without choking any of them to death (Ralph in the fourth row was always trying to cheat. That kid had problems.) He was so exhausted that he could puke red on these Economics exams and call them graded. (Seriously, Greenberg, Marginal Productivity cannot increase at q=-2. How the hell did anything increase at q=-2, even.) Bobby sat there, trying to come up with motivation to grade the next exam paper, but even glancing at it from the corner of his eyes the paper looked unbelievably overloaded with words. He taught Economics. Why were there that many /words/. Bobby sat up finally driven by his momentary curiosity, and read aloud.“---as a rite of passage marking a boy's entrance into adulthood, as a form of sympathetic magic to ensure virility or fertility, as a means of enhancing sexual pleasure, as an aid to hygiene where regular bathing was impractical----What the granddad’s frozen hell is this thing?” Bobby dropped the paper, before summoning up enough courage to squint down at the question to which this answer was for. “…Cutting off the foreskin of your penis is really not an answer to Monetary Inflation. What the peacock is this kid on?” (It should be noted, nobody else was in the room. Bobby just conversed with himself on a regular basis to upkeep a certain level of sanity.)But---Bobby was so incredibly exhausted right now, and these Economics papers sucked balls. He held up that oddly enthusiastic paper and squinted at it again. It was now outlining penis sizes, making reference to genetic theories about sizes of foreskins and its correlation with sexual pleasure in great detail. Bobby felt an unreasonable stir in his low-hung trunks.This was an exhaustion boner. It had to be, because there was no comprehensible reason for Bobby to be feeling a little hot and bothered right at this moment. His head was spinning, his muscles were sore, his student’s exam was weird, and his cock was filling up as surely as the fat in his arteries (he had to watch out for his cholesterol this year, seriously messed-up stuff).“Okay! Okay fine! Not like I’m not a mostly healthy man. Exhaustion boners are allowed, you hear me?!” Bobby said to his ceiling stain challengingly, as he tossed the red pen onto the coffee table and reached into his trunks. His thoughts flashed back to the answers earlier – ‘the foreskin contains nerves, and if you roll it back and forth, it stimulates the frenulum’ (What the hell was a frenulum? Bobby wasn't cut and even he didn't know what the fuck that was.) (The answer proved true, though, the fourth time he rolled his foreskin back, his whole dick was throbbing in wake.)“---Who wrote this shit anyway----ahh…are you kidding me? I’m jerking off to Bilinski’s economics paper. This is such messed-up crap.” He said this, but his mind unhelpfully offered a flashback to the Bilinski kid’s large mouth.----yeah, okay, when you’re jerking it, almost anything would do. That large and pink mouth would definitely….But wait, Bobby Finstock was not a pedo-Coach! Bobby quickly attempted to whack away the frankly irritating thoughts about his Lacrosse bench warmer (he swore he was going to stay at least ten feet away from the Bilinski kid the next time he saw him), but before he could win victoriously over his over-exhausted mind, there was wetness in his palm and stars in his vision. Fucking Bilinski. Now he had to go wash his trunks and everything.