School.
Entry posted by Gaius Octavius
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I was sitting cross legged in front of the radio. My elbows on my knees and my chin perched on my palms. I was listening to the Lone Ranger. I was galloping on Silver and plugging owlhoots. My reverie was rudely interrupted when I heard the two most odious words in the English language - Thamiss and school - all in the same sentence! Thamiss has plagued me all my life. Somehow it comes natural to humans. I think that it is the first word my grand-niece ever uttered. It follows me like a curse. It has always meant that I was in big trouble.
I made enquiry of my loved ones as to the meaning of this evil omen. Thamiss, you're going to kindergarten. Oh, yeah!, when did this come about? Did you consult me? Do I get a vote? Yes, Thamiss, you are going to Catholic school. What? Have you lost all sense of propriety? Those nuns feed little tykes to the devil. This is not for me. Look, you keep saying to me that I'll never amount to anything but the guy who rinses off the dishes - not even the dish washer. So what's the point of school? I know everything I need to know for a life of crime. Leave things as they are and stop interrupting my programs. The Green Hornet is next.
A few days later I went to sleep dreaming of a glorious day to come. Came morning, the evil word Thamiss was shouted. Get up; take a shower. Why, was I working in the mines? Go away. I need my rest. I'm only a kid. Get out of bed or the hand of doom strikes. Performed the required ablutions and then was confronted with the silliest set of clothing I ever saw. Knickers! Long socks! Eton collar! Tie! Jacket! White shirt! Brown and white saddle shoes! Do we have a visitor? Is this garb for my brother? Am I going to kindergarten or Yale? It's for you Thamiss. You're kidding. I'll never live this down. I'll be a laughing stock. How can I steal comics from Epstein? The cops will nail me 1,2,3. Thaaaamissss, get moving. This is a conspiracy. You know that this stuff is coming back shredded. Then you are going to practice karate on me.
Now, I am decked out in his silly uniform; my Mother has a firm grasp on my hand and we are off to hell. Ma, there's a bug, I'm going to step on it. That's what you think. Look, a nickel. I can use it. Tomorrow. Can I play on the monkey bars one last time? You can, but you may not! Rats!
We had a small park to walk through before we hit hell. One minor point before we continue. I had wild flaxen hair, surrounding a cowlick, that always looked as if it had exploded. This made it easy for adults to grab a hand full and yank my head around. This was not a secret to my Mother. She experimented as we ambled. Got to hell and was duly enrolled by Mother Superior and ceremoniously introduced at the dungeon. The girls were situate at the window. Oh!, so cute. Ribbons and bows in their hair. Played so nice with the blocks. The little monsters. To my right were my buddies. To my left some kids that we didn't know. Each gang glowered at the other. Experience taught that this did not bode well for any concerned. I gave my Mother a head start and then bolted. I beat her home by a long shot. But there was no one to play with. Only some cocooned urchins who could only dribble. Mother soon put in an appearance. I'll leave the rest to your informed imagination. After a good night's recuperation, the previous days exercise was repeated - with a pork pie hat! This time I sat with my pals. As usual, the girls were cackling. The two gangs sat in absolute silence, glowering at each other, mayhem bent. Sister took a hike. A few moments passed and the gangs were at each others throats. Collars flying. Shirts shredded. Jackets torn to rags. Who was strangling who with the ties. Somebody was trying to rip my knickers off while I was biting some guy's nose. Of a sudden, silence commenced to reign. Mother Superior had put in a cameo appearance. All four feet nothing of a woman dressed in black with starched head dress and bib. She wielded a short pointer. The boys were ordered to line up and to put their palms up. She worked that pointer like a woman possessed! Ouch! Ouch! Owww! Our hands were of no assistance for some good time. Our names were collected for further proceedings in the near future.
Ah, the joy of ones first school days.
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