Easily Mrs. Erickson from eighth grade English because we had class project where we had to write a scary story and use powerpoint to tell it. I asked her if I could work alone the day before she assigned groups, and she asked why, and I said because I had an idea I thought was really great, and was something I could really get into, so I wanted to work on it alone. She said okay. The next day she changed her mind and assigned me with the most useless god damn kid in the class.

When we gave the presentation he wouldn't change slides and play the effects and stuff when he was supposed to, and basically just derailed the entire presentation.

Later some douchetwat who essentially "wrote" a "story" about the "world tree centre" of a forest getting torn down, and then the forest animals invading a desert to kill the villain told me I wrote the worst story. Ever. Took me a very long time to get over presentation anxiety after that. Fuck Mrs. Erickson, and fuck that entire year at that stupid Catholic school.

If anyone is interested. My story was about a group of teenagers finding an expired cannister thing of Pillsbury cookie dough, and then deciding to try and make cookies anyway... Of course this was a dire mistake, because when Pillsbury products "go bad"... So does the pillsbury doughboy inside the cannister, at which point the story turns into a typical slasher story. At the end the teenage girl that survives the pillsbury doughboy massacre kills the doughboy by shoving him into an oven preheated to 350 degrees Farenheit, baking him alive into a cookie. Then, when the oven dings and the cookie is finished/cools. the teenage girl sits down to watch a movie with her giant cookie... And chokes to death on the first bite.

Unfortunately I never got to tell that story because the dingus I got paired with trashed the story.