Pasta Love

I've posted many times my story about choosing to write about making a tennis racket out of spaghetti as a classroom punishment instead of the usual "I will not sniff my own farts..." 500 times or whatever, which, by the way, killed when I read it in Mr. Russell's class the next day, and just now I've stumbled upon the story of Michael Fishback and the, you guessed it, spaghetti-powered tennis racket. This woulda been about 7-8 years before I was in 7th grade, so now I wonder if Mr. Russell thought of Fishback when daring me with the assignment. Ha!