Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Curiously Cautious
STUPID RULES INSPIRE STUPID CHANCES
I was in eighth grade that “May Day May Day” sitting in a desk too small inside a sweltering building where everyone was told to ignore their thirst and to suppress their natural quest for water. “Offer it up as a sacrifice to the lord, ”Sister Saint Winifred told the eighth grade class at Our Lady of Grace Grammar School. I was sitting in aisle one and I remember my muffled comment like it was yesterday, ”This is so fucking stupid.”
And so at 1:30 p. m I hit the floor slithering as the class was immersed in a picture study assignment that seemed to elicit sexual arousal in some who attempted to think of anything other than how thirsty they were. Fat kids who didn’t sweet were turning pink. I was crawling on my hands and knees and cleared the open doorway unnoticed.
Around the corner I crawled, stood up looked down the linoleum hallway and thought, ”They must buff this bitch every five minutes! Jesus Christ this is shiny!”
I was way too big for the building at 14 being 5’11” 185 pounds as the porcelain hallway water fountain had me bending over below the midline causing the blood to rush to my head but I could see upside down what was behind me.
The Janitor’s closet was open just a crack and I wondered why because it was dark in there. This was 1960 the same year Psycho hit the movies. Everyone knew about cracked doors and the Mother Superior of Norman Bates.
Out of the closet flew 89 year old chalky white bent framed skeletal Psycho Mother Superior who moved across the glistening floor without touching it. She was on me like Mrs. Bates on Martin Balsam
The chrome piece from which a moment earlier I was sucking water was jammed under the inside of my upper lip and felt like it was going up my nose. “Bold Brazen Heathen” she screamed! I turned to plead for mercy and she cracked me with an open slap to the face her little finger catching the inside orbit of my eye socket. “What the fuck, ”I instantly said to myself, pressing the heal of my hand over my recently blinded eyeball. It was like a German prisoner of war movie. I thought they were going to shoot me and if we had been geographically isolated and the nuns had been armed they would have BUT this was Western “Civilization” so they had to settle for torture.
Today I’m not scarred and not bitter but I’m not thankful or grateful either. I’m just curiously cautious at public water fountains.
Next drink’s on me.
Freddogg
I was in eighth grade that “May Day May Day” sitting in a desk too small inside a sweltering building where everyone was told to ignore their thirst and to suppress their natural quest for water. “Offer it up as a sacrifice to the lord, ”Sister Saint Winifred told the eighth grade class at Our Lady of Grace Grammar School. I was sitting in aisle one and I remember my muffled comment like it was yesterday, ”This is so fucking stupid.”
And so at 1:30 p. m I hit the floor slithering as the class was immersed in a picture study assignment that seemed to elicit sexual arousal in some who attempted to think of anything other than how thirsty they were. Fat kids who didn’t sweet were turning pink. I was crawling on my hands and knees and cleared the open doorway unnoticed.
Around the corner I crawled, stood up looked down the linoleum hallway and thought, ”They must buff this bitch every five minutes! Jesus Christ this is shiny!”
I was way too big for the building at 14 being 5’11” 185 pounds as the porcelain hallway water fountain had me bending over below the midline causing the blood to rush to my head but I could see upside down what was behind me.
The Janitor’s closet was open just a crack and I wondered why because it was dark in there. This was 1960 the same year Psycho hit the movies. Everyone knew about cracked doors and the Mother Superior of Norman Bates.
Out of the closet flew 89 year old chalky white bent framed skeletal Psycho Mother Superior who moved across the glistening floor without touching it. She was on me like Mrs. Bates on Martin Balsam
The chrome piece from which a moment earlier I was sucking water was jammed under the inside of my upper lip and felt like it was going up my nose. “Bold Brazen Heathen” she screamed! I turned to plead for mercy and she cracked me with an open slap to the face her little finger catching the inside orbit of my eye socket. “What the fuck, ”I instantly said to myself, pressing the heal of my hand over my recently blinded eyeball. It was like a German prisoner of war movie. I thought they were going to shoot me and if we had been geographically isolated and the nuns had been armed they would have BUT this was Western “Civilization” so they had to settle for torture.
Today I’m not scarred and not bitter but I’m not thankful or grateful either. I’m just curiously cautious at public water fountains.
Next drink’s on me.
Freddogg
