The Bad Three Leaves
As we all know disasters are imminent in high school; the forgotten fly: walking forever with your zipper down and nobody says a thing, embarrassing. Dropping your tray in lunch, followed up by the student body applauding your ability to be clumsy. Accidentally letting the fart you've held clinched between your cheeks since second period, because you're too much of a pussy to face the school bullies in the restroom, slip out during class receiving absolutely no sympathy from anyone, teachers included. If this has ever happened to you I'm sorry, you probably transfered schools or moved to a different state. Kids at this age are cruel; your own best friend will probably consider and most likely choose to disown you if you publicly shit your pants.
P.S. never tell a thirteen year old, friend or not, that you are constipated, period.
My aptitude for personal embarrassment is a privileged; you can’t learn my kind of misfortune. You see, growing up, the alley across the way from my parents house was the hangout place for our street. And there, in plain view, yet hidden from young eyes, was a shitload of poison ivy; a venerable cove of the stuff.
It was like our own jungle back there. While we used to play here when younger, in middle school this is where we would come to smoke, hidden from our parents, this is where my rebellion began. This is where I was introduced to poison ivy. Why we stood so close to the stuff I don’t know, someone once told me that poison ivy has three leaves… a lot of plants have three leaves. But somewhere between the Marlboro reds andNewports
It was like our own jungle back there. While we used to play here when younger, in middle school this is where we would come to smoke, hidden from our parents, this is where my rebellion began. This is where I was introduced to poison ivy. Why we stood so close to the stuff I don’t know, someone once told me that poison ivy has three leaves… a lot of plants have three leaves. But somewhere between the Marlboro reds and
It would be weeks before I'd show my fucking face in school without damaging anyone's sight. I remember this one morning clearly; ready for school I stumbled downstairs late as always, “Mom we need to leave.” Usually I rode the school bus but this morning I had spent too much time comforting myself in the mirror, insisting that I didn’t look that bad and could brave going to class today. My mom, bound with brutal compassion, allowed me to be confident and said nothing as we loaded our selves into the minivan. School was just a few blocks away; I could have walked if I ever woke up early enough. We rode in silence and at the first red light the rearview mirror laughed at me. I decided that I should take one more look at my face. “Shit,” I thought, “I am not going to school today.” My mom could barely contain herself when I grabbed her arm, looked at her with my crusty swollen left eye; the elephant man face we called it, just on the left side but the whole left side and I pleaded, “I CAN NOT GO TO SCHOOL LIKE THIS!” I thought I was going to pee in my pants laughing so hard. Stewing with amusement my mom turned the car around, we both knew damn well that I wasn’t going to make it to school looking the way I did, but she sure was going to let me try.
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