Thursday, June 21, 2007

Heh, girl... you a 'HO!!!

Yeah, I don't remember anything about love or crushes from the time before my old lady...
So here is someone elses crush instead:
In the fifth grade, I proposed to a girl named Denise Johnson, out on the lunch court. White blobs of seagull and pigeon shit rained form the sky. Denise said she wanted me to propose properly, between the gym and the cafeteria, after school. I combed my regular boy's, and wiped my modern glasses. At ten after three, I met Denise between the two buildings. I was shivering and my mouth was dry and tasted horrible. I got down on my knees on the shit-splotched blacktop in front of Ms. Johnson. My mouth was just level with her groin. I looked up at her pretty brown face and long, strait, black hair. She looked down at my damp cheeks and smiled benignly. "Denise, you are the prettiest, smartest girl in the whole school. Will you marry me?" My insides chattered against each other as I spoke the words. My face was livid and silly. I could feel my eyeballs bulging in their bone sockets, my knees ached. "Ha ha ha ha ha! You're too ugly! You look like you've been whooped with an ugly stick! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Her face had changed to a contemptuous snarl. Misty lavender donuts of shame appeared in front of my eyes. Suddenly a mob of snickering boys and girls jumped out from around the back corner of the cafeteria. They surrounded us, laughing and jeering. I stood up, wobbling, a lump in my throat, my asshole pinched tight. Denise joined the circle of snapping cruel children. She stood next to Rudy Stoltz, the handsomest most popular boy in the school. They held hands. "Fuck you, Jew-ass Bern-butt!," said Rudy. I put my huge, clumsy hands over my face. A cantaloupe skin hit me in the ear. I could hear the kids wandering away, giggling and guffawing. When I took my hands away from my face, I was alone. There was a thin white and green drool of seagull shit on my tan jacket. I walked home through a network of alleys.

3 comments:

WestCoastGold said...

jeez.. that was disturbing. Not sure that's what I was looking for, but you did it nonetheless. 2 more posts from other bloggers and you'll get my story.

ChinoMoreno said...

Dang, that is depressing.

Paula said...

Stephen Jesse Bernstein.

It makes you wonder how those kids we knew that were like him in grade school turned out.

Did they too become avant-garde poets, hailed as great artists within their circle, who later slit their own throats on a beach somewhere?

We'll never know.