Proto-Kaw—“Before Became After”
MoTW—“The Bad News Bears” (05)
My mommy will vouch that the following is as true as parts 1, 2 and 3.
When I woke up the next morning with my almost-bald head, I had a tough
decision to make. Either I could go to school and get laughed at since
kids are so cruel at that age or I could run away from home and live on
the streets until I was discovered and whisked off to Hollywood where I
would star in a series of lucrative porn movies until I could no longer
perform satisfactorily in front of the cameras then I would finally head
back home and prove to everyone that I really was a somebody.
As I pondered my options over my morning bowl of Special K while also
hoping that the school would miraculously blow up due to some boiler
room accident or something, I finally figured what my most realistic
plan of action would be.
I said goodbye to my mother and headed out the door with a couple
textbooks. I gave the appearance of heading to school but, when my house
was out of sight, I doubled back and found a comfortable spot in the
woods located across the street from my home.
I lay down and tried to figure how I could spend the next 7 hours of my
day. When I couldn’t come up with something fun to do I drifted off to
sleep.
I was awakened by some loud voices and found myself surrounded by some
hooligans in leather jackets. The asked me what I was doing and I
explained that I was cutting school since I didn’t want the other kids
to see me with short hair and they agreed that I had done the right
thing.
We talked about politics and world events and other adult-type stuff.
After a few hours the talk started dying down and I was scared they
would leave me all alone until Bobo, the leader of the gang, pulled out
a grocery bag from inside his jacket.
“Hey, you want to try something really cool?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “What you got?”
“Paint,” he said as he pulled a can of spray paint from the bag.
“Paint?” I asked.
“Paint,” he answered.
They showed me how to inhale the paint using a simple paper sack and
soon we were rolling around the ground giggling and retching. The beauty
about the whole thing was that I could actually feel brain cells dying
in my head and it was the best feeling I had ever experienced.
Suddenly, one of the hooligans started convulsing and the fun times
stopped until he fell face down in a pile of leaves. When he didn’t move
for a few minutes we figured he was dead and continued inhaling the
paint so that we could laugh and carouse some more.
All was going well until Bobo asked me a question about some of the
trees in the woods when, as I described the differences between oaks and
elms, I suddenly passed out.
When I woke up I noticed that it was almost dark out and that I was
missing my jeans. I buried the dead hooligan, gathered up my books and
headed home.
As I headed up to my room my mother spotted me and asked why there was
gold paint all over my face. I mumbled something about trying out for
the school mascot which seemed to satisfy her query, or so I thought.
“Did they take your pants too……..OH MY GOD! What’s that on your
underpants!? Is that BLOOD???”
What to tell her? Many answers filtered through my brain and I didn’t
have much time to analyze each and every one of them since she was
heading towards me brandishing a rather large wooden spoon so I blurted
out,
“I was ass fucked by a biker gang, ma!”
Which, in hindsight, was definitely the wrong answer since she replied,
“Young man, just wait till your father gets home!”
COMING NEXT: Probably the next part.
