(Yes, this is a creepypasta. It's super skury but the admeens keep blaleeting it! MYAAAAAAAAH! Jk.)
It all started one day while I was playing basketball outside of my school. I was a huge basketball fan, so that's all I did most days. While I was playing, a couple of guys (Riley, Steve, and Scott) walked onto the court. They started pushing me and my friends around. It was clear they were up to no good. They were always making trouble in my neighborhood. This time, I stood up to them and knocked them all to the ground. They started crying and ran to their parents. All because of one little fight, my mom would get scared. I returned to my house and the monster of a mom I had told me she found out about me fighting and that I would have to be sent to that awful, awful place. My life was flipped turned upside down. She sent me on a plane to that dreadful place. On the plane, I might the holder of the orange juice in a champagne glass. I drank it, and I thought for a moment. "Is this what the people of Bel-Air livin like? Damn, this might be alright."