Freddogg Off The Chain

A few years back give or take five or 10 a senior girl in my “You want to talk Problems of Democracy Class we’ll talk Problems Class” used to stay in the room instead of going to lunch. She was a nice kid and had that built up one shoe thing going on and she was very self conscious about it.

She was sitting in the back of the room across from an open door because no way I’m sitting in a room with a high school girl behind a closed door- built up shoe or not- grading papers—which I assume were from someone else’s class.

Kids were passing in the hall and a girl looked in and said, “Hi Mary! Good to see you.” Mary smiled back, ”Hi how are you?”

As soon as the hallway greeter passed by Mary turned to me and said, ”I hate that girl!”

“You do, why is that” , I asked?

“Ever since she talked me out of committing suicide when I was in ninth grade she thinks I owe her something.”

Mary to me is the tip of the iceberg lettuce on the pleasures of disliking people for whatever thin reason.

Another year and another class of seniors with a split lunch. They left my entertaining version of “The World According To Fredman” went to lunch and 30 minutes later returned mostly on time with a few bedraggled stragglers.

I had the room split down the middle like the desk has been arranged by Moses and to quote Moses Malone “When they came back I be red” which was pre hip-hop Ebonic for I was ready.”

A cadre of preppy girls always sat together to my left. They were cute and rich poised and nice and I can’t really say anything bad about them—the spoiled bitches.

One of their group returned a little late from lunch went over and sat among her elitist sect but they were not happy as indicted by their collective sigh like the alligators had fallen off their Izod sweaters.

“What your problem, ”one of the girls said like an Hezbollah street fighter looking at Anderson Cooper.

“What do you mean, ”asked the girl who was facing a collective prep peep peer review board?

“How come you didn’t have lunch with us? How come you sat over there with the skuzzy people?”

The day before a new girl from Fishtown Philly had transferred into “Prepville By The Sea". She was authentically nice and of solid character and made a friend of one of the alligator women who had the courage to break from the rigid rules of the clique to welcome a new friend into her life who didn’t look and behave exactly like her.

“Did you guys just say Scuzzy people, ”I said jump starting the class? “Do you ask her why she had lunch with the skuzzy people? It reminds me of an old Folk song.
‘It takes a skuzzy man to sing a skuzzy song, I’m skuzzy now, but I won’t be skuzzy long.”

Do these skuzzy people know who they are? Are their parents skuzzy? How about the family dog? “You better get your skuzzy ass off the couch!” Do they look in the mirror after taking a morning shower and say, ”O.K. I’m too young and healthy looking time to pierce my face and throw on some skuzzy Kmart shit and perhaps some black lipstick. Man I’m sure glad I'm overweight and out of shape and not being recruited to the field hockey program.

The rest of the class was loving my rant which was a valuable lesson in the inherent nastiness of some young and cute and privileged peoples who evidently were missing the point about peace love and understanding.

But I am nothing if not stupid and adventurous which is why I was popular so I sent a kid to the cafeteria and told him to bring back some skuzzy people because I needed them to complete the lesson.

“Make sure they freely admit to being skuzzy, ”I said. “And tell them what they’re walking into to.”

Now some of my best friends among the students were skuzzy people so when they had a chance to come and see me and get a late pass to their next boring ass class they jumped on the opportunity.

The came into the room a happy collective of bad haircuts and styles wearing dark black to contrasting flannels and one kid in a McDonalds shirt.

“I live in a trailer with six half brothers and sisters everyone of us half related to somebody but none of use related to everybody, ”Chris said. “I love electronics and I work at McDonalds because we all have to chip in to support our parent’s alcohol problem. I proclaim right now to be the biggest skuzzy loser in the school.”

The rest of the self proclaimed Skuzzies cheered and clapped. I began to feel bad for the Alligator Girls but I never brought them out in the open.

The Skuzzy kids loved me because I so easily related to them. And they were skuzzy by choice or happenstance and thought the entire Homecoming week at High School was so homo gay and they just would never be players in that game.

Garth Brooks sang about Friends in Low Places, other country songs “Moving Up To Better Class of Losers” or “I like my Women A Little ON The Trashy Side” but people who represent these lyrics don’t sing these songs but they live the life.

Admit it we mostly hang around with people of the same color and economic class and let’s not bring religion into it because when the last time Raheem stopped over for a non meat dinner with your skuzzy family?

I don’t now how I ended up here from the “no thanks for this life” built up big shoe girl other than to make a point “It’s tough out there so why not be nice to everyone and never say an unkind word to anyone”?

What do you mean that’s no fun?

Addendum: Just remembered once at a Cape School Board meeting they were discussing changes in the discipline code when a porky State Policeman on the Board interjected with a lazy delivery, ”That’s all well and good but what about the Dirt Bags?”

I was going to recruit and bring a bunch of Dirt Bags to the next meeting but it conflicted with my scheduled meeting on non recovering social drinkers for life club which was adequetly represented by Skuzzies,Dirtbags and people with removable and replacemnt parts.