Description
So the wrestling coach heard about this joke I made about wrestlers being dumb. He gave me a choice: either detention forever or I had to wrestle him so he could show me it's as much a mental sport as a physical one. I went with the latter option, partly to show him I wasn't afraid of him. He can't kill me, right?
But when I was in the wrestling room and saw him in his singlet with that smirk on his face, all I could think was my friend saying "You're screwed, dude" after I told him about my predicament.
(Everyone in this picture and story is over the age of 18.)