One of the gym teachers seeks to correct some appalling behavior he's witnessed in the showers. He gets naked, a hairy fat middle-aged paunch machine who could never muster the sit-ups he forces us to repeat. Steps into the shower room shouting, "Listen up! You're gonna get infections 'cos you're doin' it wrong!"
"First," he says, "you wash your asses." He does it. "Then," he continues, you use the same washcloth to wash your faces." He does it. "You wash your asses — " he does it, "then you wash your faces." He wants to make sure we understand the demo granted our health is at stake. "You should be washing your faces first — " he does it. "Then you wash your asses." Which he does. By now he's rubbed his face with so much anal cloacal residue he should be collapsing from tetanus.
My friend and I are near collapsing from laughter. We're nudging each other in the towel-covered ribs: Adult supervision at its finest.
I don't, though, believe that's truly the point. I'm quite certain Mr. Adult Supervision would prefer to wash our asses with his tongue. There's really no other reason he'd be getting naked with the boys in the showers.