"...look, you seem like cool guys, sorry we got off on the wrong..."
When prompted by the principal approximately 45 minutes later, the people at the neighbouring table would recall if you actually finished that thought before you were thrown by the fat Star Wars nerd across the floor, sending you spiralling into the jock table who ultimately responded by throwing your limp rag-doll body back in the nerd's direction.
One boy would volunteer that you resembled a beach ball being bounced between the snouts of two infant sea-lions at Marine Land.
In the chaos that ensued, you manage to piss-off the jocks, the nerds, the slackers, the janitor and principal, who believed you got what you deserved given what you said to those boys.
(what kind of principal ARE you?)
Your social life is severely crippled. You probably would have done better had you simply stood there and cried.
When you do manage to get to your locker, you find a swastika, an exagerated penis and the word "Fag" scrawled hastily in black ink on the front. Some Grade Nine kids are snickering nearby.