Childhood Education Part 2
4 years later
Where was I?
Oh yeah, 6th grade.
I was in the midst of my parents divorcing. I was pissed, I spent 30 minutes upset that my mother and father were separating, but then I found out we were moving. I invested years making my three friends. I was hoping I would find friends again. I was a child with an angry sailors limp. So, finding friends who would stick by me was a Double Dare challenge.
Little kids just stare at me. It's as if I'm SpongeBob walking into Wal-Mart because I was running low on new house dresses, shotgun shells and pine cone spray paint tattoos. I'm telling you to this day, kids just stare when I walk. Sometimes when I limp around and I see someone starring, I put a little more cripple swagger into the limp, and maybe work in a small twerk, followed by a Hallelujah.
(side note: There is a small gas station outside of Reno, NV. That area is called Hallelujah Junction and for a free ice cream cone from my grandfather he would have us spell Hallelujah. I didn't care so much about the ice cream after I found his secret stash of porn mags in his vacation trailer. So if we didn't have to make an additional stop, that would mean the sooner we could get to his house.)
So, 6th grade. New school. All eyes on me. RIP 2 Pac. I loved the Beastie Boys. I had a Tonka shirt on. I felt bad ass walking into Mrs. Hollingers class. Then I laid my eyes on this girl. She developed early and my new desk was right next to hers. Luckily for me, I knew they what these skin melons were, thanks to my grandfathers vacation station. So right away I had more obstacles to get over. So I played it cool and continued to stare. I mean full on stare, like the kind of stare if you saw a homeless man dressed up like SpongeDale (The dollar store version) stumbling into Burger King. The next day she came into class with a baggy sweater on, and just, like, that, they had disappeared. Thee "Oh my gentle Jesus'es" have left the building. I thought she was sick, so I asked her all day long if she felt good. I'm sure I failed the math quiz that day and as her flute skills improved I had to make sure to hone in on my stupid clarinet so I could pair her skills, keeping me seated next to her during music class. God, I hated the clarinet. To this day, I have never seen a rock band with a professional clarinetist, nor do I even know of one. I haven't even seen a clarinet in a million years, even Kenny G plays the tenor saxophone. To be honest I had to look him up, but when I looked the G-man up I guess my thought process was in the market for a Michael Bolton. They both scream 1992 short haired aunt, drinking a Lipton sun tea and driving an Isuzu Trooper.
My second day at a new school, I decided it was probably a smart idea to ditch the Tonka shirts and totally sport a Run DMC shirt. There were (maybe still apply now, I dunno) playground rules. When you heard the bell, freeze and wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. I would always freeze giving the finger, but I would hide it behind my other hand. There was also a 20 second count on the swings, if they were busy. I would simply count to 20, and when the swinger slowed down to a complete stop, I would sometimes say, "nah I don't like that swing, carry on". I would continue on doing this. Some dude with curly hair and glasses, he said hey whats up, your shoe is untied. Awesome! Lets swing. I was swinging so freaking high I could see the curve of the earth. We were singing and laughing. Then my shoe flew off of my foot. As my shoe lifted off from my foot, my toes all waved good bye at the same time. I could see the piggies were happy and they hardly got to breath during lunch time. That battered shoe, with the ripped dangly red swoosh and the grey cookie colored shoe laces, slowly spun like a punted football. The g-force of the swing caused the shoe to propel in a backward motion. You could hear the screams squealing out from the "This little pig" warning me of the lurking danger I am going to encounter. The shadow of the shoe, lined in sync with the swing. My dumbass laughing as the sun blinded my vision while I tracked my shoe jet. I fell backwards out of my swing, doing an awesome flip only to kiss the soft sand below. As I lifted my head up, my shoe crash landed on the back of my noggin at that point and my face went back for second helpings of sand. The sweater girl ran over to me. It was at this point her name was (actually) Beth. She helped me up and told me that was a crazy fast flip. I scanned the playground, no one else saw this event. I saw the guy with curly hair and glasses launch his shoe over the playground fence. Where the shoe landed safely in the street, moments later it was ran over by an Isuzu Trooper. Beth said I looked ok and then gave me a hug. It was at this moment in time, historically speaking her large obstacles made me forget about ever doing a Wile E Coyote stunt. I was happy. Although I had to sit back on the swing for the next 4 to 7 minutes until I could ease the happiness that was currently at the time, hard to hide.
