ITT: Veeky Forumserary pleb stories

ITT: Veeky Forumserary pleb stories.

I need to hear embarrassing stories about plebs you've encountered outside your basements.

Mandatory.

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> reading Les Miserables at uni, during my lunch break
> a girl from my class asks how a musical works in a book if you can't hear them singing

Really regretting my choice in university.

My grand-grandmother thought men couldn't go to the Moon because there wasn't a door in it. I'm not even kidding, she died at 96. RIP.

Did she mean that they couldn't go inside of the moon? What does this have to do with literature, user

> people actually find Moby Dick boring

One time I saw someone reading a book I didn't like, so I shouted "yucka pucka!"

Good, now the world is rid of that stupid cunt

I don't know really, I think she imagined the Moon as a house. She stood for the position even after seeing the NASA footages.

I'm triggered.

Newfag here. Thanks user, pee-peed myself a lil'.

Saw someone reading Infinite Jest once. Gave him the stink eye for a minute but he seemed really enthralled in the book and didn't look up, so I flipped him off after making sure no one was looking

> reading Malcolm X's autobiography on the morning commute, reaching the chapters regarding his travels to the middle-east and how he began distancing himself from the Nation of Islam
> very fascinating, although a little uncomfortable to read at times due to Malcolm's infamous disdain for white people (i'm white myself)
> somebody sits across from me on train (we're sitting at those seats with a table) - she seems kinda cute but I'm just reading
> she seems to clear her throat a few times while i'm reading, she gets louder at clearing her throat
> I glance up from my book for a bit
> she says "Oh so you did hear me?"
> I go back to reading
> "Don't ignore me."
> I put the book down, "What's the matter?"
> " Do you realise how racist you are?"
> "What?"
> "You have no right to be reading Malcolm X, his work has nothing to do with you or your people. You should pass the book over"
> I tell her she's fucking crazy and go to sit elsewhere on the train but she just follows me down the aisle
> she begins shouting "How dare you ignore me!" (she's hitting my back now) "You cannot appreciate what Malcolm did for this country! the money you used to buy that book should go to reparations, fucker!" (not even a native north american, from the UK and i know my family's history: we never owned slaves)
> she pulls down my jeans and pushes me over, everyone laughs at me and points because i'm wearing cute hello kitty panties
> I pull my jeans up, throw my book at her and punch her in the jaw, a few golden teeth fall out
> she screams at the top of her lungs and cries
> everyone restrains me
> police are contacted and I'm handed to them at the next station
> I'm sentenced 1,000 years in prison
> tfw Hitler won

You copied this is a less entertaining way from the last thread.

A guy once saw me reading Infinite Jest and wanted to talk about it, but I was only +-150 pages in. Felt pretty bad, he seemed interesting but didn't want to spoil me.

I posted it in the last thread but didn't remember how exactly I phrased it. Shit happens, user.

My great grandma cried whenever someone died in a movie because she thought it was for real

is this real?? every time i re3ad malcolm X's malcolm X the autobiography i just get alot off Hand'shakes & 'backpattinG" …?

I was once reading infinite jest, a fine journey of pages, I must say. Anyway, one day while reading, I could feel some guy starring at me. At first I thought he might be looking at something else, or that he maybe wanted to approach me. Some time passed, and the guy was still starring a me - very odd, I think. When he had his fill of feasting his eyes on me in a disturbingly sexual manner, he flipped me the bird and just walked away.

What a strange man

I was once being read by a white man, as I often am, and he was thumbing me so vigorously that my pages smudged, dirtied and tore. Cheeto dust was everywhere, it seemed to fuse to my pages. I was flustered and I sensed another white man, furious at the degradation I was suffering, attempting to interact with the culprit reading me. I would understand if I was an older edition, but I was taken from the book store's shelf, freshly stacked not long before. I hate everything.

not bad desu

thanks /pol/

>at uni, attending first lecture of World literature 101
>lecturer asks us to buy Poetics by Aristotle
>asks us if anyone ever read it
>it's a big class so I raise my hand in an attempt to look superior to everyone else
>I thought more people would raise their hands
>I haven't really read the book, I've only heard of it
>no one else raises their hands
>I quickly withdraw my hand
>everybody had the chance to see it though
>lecturer asks me what I thought of it
>My face turns red, I'm trying to keep composure but I can't
>"Well, user?"
>I start sweating
>"You HAVE read it, haven't you? That's why you raised your hand, isn't it?"
>I try to say "yes" but I swallow before I could finish saying the word
>by this point I'm drenched in sweat
>"Well, anything at all you gathered from the book?"
>I try to think of something to say
>"I r-read it a l-long time ag..ag..ago-o..."
>people are giving me funny looks by now
>the lecturer has a smile on his face
>a clever wry smile
>he knows I'm lying
>at this point remember that I'm the only man on this class
>there are at the very least 40 women looking at me like I'm an idiot, eyebrows raised, awkwardly laughing
>I get up and run towards the door
>I'm crying
>I can hear the laughter behind me
>as I'm heading for the door at full speed I can only hear the faint voice of a girl I was attracted to
>she was saying "...but, why?"
>I try to turn my head but realize mid action that I'm too ashamed to look at her so I turn my head towards the door again
>as this movement happened I didn't realize how close I was to the door
>ram against the closed door with my forehead
>at least I didn't fall on the floor
>leave the university ashamed
>run home
>it's raining
>realize I left my umbrella at the auditorium
>I can't muster the strength to go back
>it wasn't only the umbrella, I left everything there, my notebook, my pen, my copy of Sade's 120 Days of Sodom that I was reading
>fuck it, I'm not going back
>never went to that class ever again, fail due to lack of attendance
>still haven't read Poetics
>I hate Aristotle and women now

im giggling way to much.

pls be fake

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I'm surprised by how few people seem to realise that Les Miserables wasn't a stage production before a novel.