My Favourite “Get Rekt” Moment

No way! I’m actually posting something that isn’t about entertainment or fine arts!? Yes, dear reader, it is true: the moment has finally come. What’s more is that I’m posting something about my personal life too, which I’ve never done on this blog before. But that’s something that you’re supposed to do to get your blog popular, right? Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t care how popular my blog is. Where am I even going with this introduction? Forget it; I’ve ruined it now; let’s just get into the actual post. 

I tend to be an extremely sarcastic person in real life, and being an entertainer myself, I like to play with words and throw them around, usually in a very sarcastic and joking manner. Sometimes this gets me into trouble, but most times I just wind up roasting whoever’s talking to me. These usually tend to be very personal and, out of context, seemingly offensive, so I won’t be sharing too many of those, though I assure you that in context the roasts were mere jokes. But sometimes I come out with quick little quips in response to people, and it winds up being a “get rekt” moment. I’ve had this happen to me plenty of times too, but I’ve done my fair share of wrecking. This is my favourite “get rekt” moment.

I’ve been at a very small college for some time, now, and at a school so small, everyone knows everyone. And since I know everyone, I also have a very good idea of who I like and who I don’t like. One such person is named… well, I won’t share his actual name in case any of my actual friends happen to read this, but we’ll call him… Hest. That doesn’t mean anything, and it’s definitely not an anagram. Anyway, moving on. Hest is one of those that acts immature and like he doesn’t know any better, when he’s clearly demonstrated on occasion that he does. And because I go to a Christian school, everyone feels obligated to be nice to Hest, even though he only takes advantage of those friendships in order to act immature to more people and thus attract more attention. I think you get the picture.

I was talking one day with a really good friend of mine who was graduating in the following week. She was holding a graduation party, and she was inviting a few family members and even fewer friends, and she wanted me to be one of those friends. Out of the whole school, she was only inviting nine people, including me. I naturally accepted, and as we were talking details, Hest walked by and ejaculated himself into the conversation, asking what we were talking about. My friend had no choice but to tell the truth, and he asked if he was invited. I restrained myself with all of my willpower, which meant I said nothing to help my friend, and she, being the nice person that she is, and finding herself backed in a corner, reluctantly extended the invitation to him, which he gladly accepted. Wonderful. I know this is a lot of setup, but stick with me. Here comes the fun part.

At the dinner party, I had found that my friend had invited some of the more popular people at school, being that she herself was quite well-known, and I was forced to sit directly across from Hest. He was talking himself up, as usual, and he was commenting on every little thing, making jokes that even my six-year-old cousin would have cringed at. At one point, he somehow started talking about how much he knew about art and architecture (which he didn’t), and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hest,” I said, “I didn’t know you even knew that much about that kind of stuff.”

“Huh?” Hest responded. “Oh yeah. I’m all into art and architecture.”

“Well, you know,” I said, with everyone at the table listening now, “‘Art’ is actually short for ‘artchitecture’.”

Everyone froze for a moment, watching Hest’s mind slowly work. After almost a minute of silence, he simply answered, “Huh. That’s pretty cool.” And he nonchalantly sipped whatever he was drinking.

Everyone burst out laughing, and after another five minutes of Hest asking what was going on, which made everyone laugh more, it was explained to him that there isn’t any “t” in “architecture”, and that the root of the word had nothing to do with the etymology of “art”. After several pats on the shoulder and compliments on my quick and straight-faced joke, I sat back and realised that I had just experienced one of the best “rekt” moments of my entire life.

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