Darryl's Background Story! :D

Hi. My name is Darryl Johnson and I am a 16 year old at Marshall Johnson prep school. This institution was founded in 1898 when a very entrepreneurial son of an oil owner had a vision of creating a school for young scholars.

His name was Marshall Johnson, and after a rough start (his family and friends didn't believe he'd make it), he proved them wrong by having a successful school in Jacksonville, Florida, that was the envy of other prep schools such as Brian Macarthur's Academy in Pennsylvania, and Maxwell Andrews Prep school in Boston, Massachusetts.

But enough about the start of the school. This is about me. I entered this school on a scholarship that my mother forced me to apply for. That's right. Forced me. She found out I had been living a wild life.

I was mugging people, robbing convenience stores, burglarizing homes (red alert security alarms and Rottweilers that bite in homes ain't pretty I tell you), and hot hot-wired cars, stole them, and took them out for joyrides.

My friends Julian, Sean, and Mario, contributed in my "wild life" too. We made lots of money "earning it" if you get my drift. My mother did not like how I "earned" my money and gave me an ultimatum: Boot Camp or Boarding School. I'm no dummy. Who wants to get up at 5 A.M. to do 100 push-ups and clean floors with toothbrushes?

And I don't even LIKE the military (no offense to people in the military). And if you scream at me, I will scream at you back. In Boot Camp, that's called insubordination. And insubordination makes your whole "platoon" get punished for it. And they don't take kindly to people who make them work even harder.

So I chose boarding school. My mother went to my school, North Miami Senior High School, and talked to the principal, Mr. Kurns about getting me tested for scholarships to go to prep school. He agreed, and I ended up taking three tests in one day. (I got to miss a whole day of classes though, wink, wink). The three tests were FCAT, SAT, and an IQ test.

I started on the FCAT first. I had questions at first such as, "What is the square root of 16?" Easy stuff at first, then it got harder, such as, "If Johnny is standing next to a 30 foot pole and he is 6 feet tall, how tall will his shadow be? You know that kind of question. I panicked a little. I am not good at Math. I'm smart at other subjects, but Math is my bane. Give me Science, give me Social Studies, give me Language Arts, I'll ace those subjects. Give me Math and I shrink.

My Math teacher says that I have Math Anxiety. I AM good at basic Math: Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, and Division, but when the Math problems have "pi" and "radius," I start to shrink. Do you know how "well" I did on the question about Johnny? I multiplied 30 times 6 and got the answer 180 and put it down.

Now, I KNOW that's wrong, but I answered it like that. And you have to explain how you got your answer in little "essay" lines provided on the FCAT test (many questions are multiple choice, but some are "essay" questions.) I actually told the truth about how I did it. I KNOW that the evaluator of my test will go, "Whoa, this kid is lazy", but it's not really "laziness." It's more of, "I want to get this problem out of my face."

I was sure I aced the other portions of the test. They were, Reading, Science and Grammar. I'm really good at those subjects.

After the FCAT, it was time for the SAT. I LIKE the SAT because you don't have to do any "essay" answers. It's all multiple choice. I did GREAT in the other subjects besides Math, and when it came to the infamous MATH, I didn't know if I did well. Once again, the first questions were easy like questions about exponents and equations. I'm good at that remember? The ASMD comes easily to me.

So does PEMDAS (Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, Subtraction). Many people say the best way to remember the order of operations is as, "Please Excuse My dear Aunt Sally," but I don't like to remember it like that. I like to remember it the way it is spelled. PEMDAS (Pem-das). I'm probably the only one who likes to remember it the way it is spelled.

Then the questions got harder. I had another "Johnny" type of question. "If Sarah is standing next to a 20 foot ladder and she is 5 feet, how tall will her shadow be?" I quickly multiplied 20 times 5 and got 100. But I could not put "100" because there was no "100" on the multiple choice.

The choices were A. 500 feet, B. 320 feet, C.120 feet, D. 200 feet, and E. None of the above. I didn't want to pick "E" and the answer WAS one of the choices, so I decided not to pick "E." I chose "C" because that was the closest to my answer. Lazy, lazy, lazy, I know. I had a question about the Pythogeroum Theroum, and just blindly picked an answer (AKA. Random Guess).

After the SAT was done, I got a 20-minute break. I went to a fountain and gratefully drunk from the fountain. The water was so good to me and so refreshing, that I ended up drinking for almost two minutes.

Then I went to the bathroom and peed. (Drinking water for almost two minutes does that to a person.) After that, I got a bag of chips from the vending machine. It was a big bag of Lays. I slowly ate my chips, savoring the salty, fatty taste of the chips. I love that combination, even though I know it's not good for my health.

If Da'Qwan is x feet tall and stands next to a vertical pole that is y feet tall, you can't tell how long Da'Qwan's shadow will be without an essential piece of information: the length of the pole's shadow. The reason why Darryl cannot answer these fictional math questions is because they are poorly written. Maybe you should stick to describing the various sodas and snack foods your characters eat and forget about trying to describe the academic content they encounter at school.

I finished eating the chips in 10 minutes. As I wondered the main hallway, I looked at the familiar green paint under white paint. Our school colors are white, green, and gray. I realized this would be my last week or so at North Miami Senior High School. I was overwhelmed by shocking sadness. I would miss this school.

I would miss my friends and family. It all depressed me deeply. I began thinking of a John Mayer song, “No Such Thing.” Two lyrics go, “I wanna run through the halls of my high school. I wanna scream at the top of my lungs.” To make me feel better, I did just that.


I walked to one end of the hallway, and then ran to the other side of the hallway screaming like a maniac. Don’t worry. I don’t usually do this, and this was a regular school day.

If anyone was walking around and saw me doing that, they’d call the men in white coats to come and take me away to a nice “hospital”. I felt much better after running and screaming (I’m surprised no one heard me screaming), and went back to the testing room. It was time for the IQ test and I cracked my knuckles and prepared to work.

The IQ test was fairly simple. It had a few math questions, but none that made me “shrink”, like asking how tall a person’s shadow was. Some questions asked about logical reasoning such as what design comes nest. I told you, I’m no dummy. All you have to do is follow the pattern closely. There were questions about other things, such as History questions and the other subjects I always ace. One IQ question kind of did make me “shrink”.

It was a question that went something like this: “If all Spinks are Sporks and all Voors are Vines, are Sporks also Vines?” I know I did not word that correctly, but you know what question I mean. I have trouble answering those types of questions. The best way I answer then is Yes. My reasoning is: Kelly can have a sister, Charlene, and Kelly can have a brother named John, but John and Charlene are not related.

After the IQ test, I turned all three of them into the proctor, and went home.

Things were tense between my mother and me. I am an only child, and my father and mother were never married, so he doesn’t live with me or raise me.(That’s right, I’m a bastard, even though the nice way is to say illegitimate, even though that doesn’t really sound nice at all.

The best way to describe what I am is a love child.) He begrudgingly pays child support for me. Begrudgingly. He should not begrudgingly be paying child support for me. He helped make me didn’t he? But back to my mother and I.

“Darryl, I don’t want you going out anywhere. You’re to spend your time at home,” she told me firmly.

“Mom, I’m 16. You can’t keep me locked up like a little boy, “I whined.

“I can when my grown teenager earns money by “earning” other people’s money and “borrowing” other people’s cars."

“But mom”,…….. I began to whine, and then closed my mouth. Arguing with her was futile.

I went up to my room and flopped on my bed with the blue covers and colorful shapes. I know. Even my covers look childish, but I like them anyway. They’re “homey” to me.

I turned over on my back, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Would I pass the tests? Would I go to boarding school? Or would I have to wake up to, “Hut, two, three, four?”

I got up and looked at my last report card. A.A.A.A.A.……EEEEEEEEERRRRRHHHHH. (Imagine a car suddenly screeching) D (In Mathematics) I would have made the honor roll if it weren’t for that Mathematics.

(I wanted to add a “D” word between the word “that” and the word “Mathematics, but I decided against it, no pun intended). I’m really smart. It’s just that I make dumb decisions for fun like “earning” money and “borrowing” strangers’ cars.

I turned on the T.V. “And no TV until you finish your homework!” My mom yelled.

“I don’t have any homework mom. I took the tests today, remember?” I yelled back.

“Oh yeah. So how did it go?” She asked me, coming into my room.

"They were fine, except for, I began to confess sheepishly, the Math questions. I am sure I bombed on the FCAT and SAT Math portions. I think I passed the IQ Math portion, because the questions were about basic Math."

“You HAVE always had trouble with advanced Math problems, “she agreed softly.

I looked at my mom intently. My mom is really pretty. She is 5’5, with short hair like Halle Berry in the early ‘90s and Toni Braxton in the early ’90’s. She is so light, she is considered “red”. “Red” is when a person’s skin is so light, it looks like Sean Paul’s skin color. “Gina from Martin is considered to be “red” too. My mom’s eyes are a golden brown, like Bow Wow’s. She’s a slender woman.

As for me, I am 5’10 with a short afro like Cole from Martin. I am a little “husky” like Malik Yoba. My skin color is light-skinned, considered caramel. I’m a few shades darker than my mother, and the best way I can describe my skin color is that it looks like Chingy’s skin color. My eyes are dark brown, like Usher’s.

“Mom, do you think I’ll pass the tests?”

“I’m sure you will. You’re very smart. Look at this report card.” She motioned to my report card. "Besides Math, you are a genius. You just behave “dumb” when you “borrow” cars and “earn” money.”

I blushed a little. Did she have to bring that up right then?

“I love you, Darryl,” she said, looking at me with shiny eyes.

“I love you too, mom," I said back.

She gave me a kiss on my cheek. She left the room. We have DirecTV, and I wanted to watch Spongebob Squarepants. There’s something I love about that little sponge. He’s very adorable and lovable.

I watched an episode where Spongebob wanted to be a “Jellyfish.” He gave up his “industrial, cold life” to live with the jellyfish. The episode was called “Nature Pants.” A word to the wise: Patrick is pretty possessive about Spongebob (Not in THAT way, wink wink). He just wants Spongebob to come back because he misses his friend.

After the episode was done, I turned off the T.V. for a while and listened to my Ciara CD. I listened to the “One Two Step: and “Goodies” songs. I have a confession to make: When I first heard “Goodies” on the radio, I thought that it was Beyonce singing the song. My cousin Tasha said, “No that girl DOESN’T sound like Beyonce.” She was right. I ended up feeling “hurt” when I found out I was wrong. “Hurt” is a slang word for standing corrected.

Speaking of Beyonce, I LOVE her! I LOVED her in Destiny’s Child and Solo! I have all of Destiny and Beyonce albums! I have: the Writing’s On The Wall, Survivor, Dangerously In Love, and Destiny Fulfilled. She is PERFECT! What a Goddess! I am so jealous of Jay-Z. What does she see in him? She can dump him (I’m available, wink wink).

I took out the Ciara CD and put in Survivor and listened to the songs, Survivor, Say My Name, and Bootylicious. I love to jam to those songs. After the songs were done playing, I took out the Survivor CD and listened to my “Hits of The 80’s” CD. I have 18 hits on that CD.

I love the 80’s. Wasn’t that a great era for music? I listened to 5 songs off that album, “Cruel Summer by Bananarama, “Putting On the Ritz by Taco. “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell, “She Blinded Me With Science” by Thomas Dolby, and “Walk Like An Egyptian” by The Bangles. When I was done with those songs, I pressed, ‘Stop,” and called Sean.

“Sean, my moms got me on lockdown. I can’t go nowhere, dawg." (I am good at Grammar, but I talk “slang” when I talk to my friends).

“Dawg, that’s messed up,” Sean said.

“My moms straight busted me. She’s trippin’," I continued.

“Yeah, she is trippin’. Fool, your old lady got you locked.”

I suddenly didn’t feel like talking about “lockup” too much anymore. “So, Sean, you still gonna “earn” money with Julian and Mario?”

“Fo sho *beep* he answered. “Ya know, me, Mario and Julian scored $300.00 muggin’ 5 people yesterday.

“Wow. Ya’ll don’t need me,” I said, feeling left out. I know, it’s stupid of me to feel left out.

“We DO need ya. We ain’t the same without ya, dawg.”

“Well. Ya’ll gonna be leanin’ on each other for a LONG while," I answered him.

“Since your moms got you on lock down, what you gonna do for fun?” Sean asked.

“Watch T.V, listen to the music, play video games, do my homework,” I answered him.

“Ya call doin’ homework “fun”? Sean asked me sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. It’s basically all I have to look forward to. My moms said, “I can’t go out nowhere,” I reminded him with emphasis.

Sean said, “Well, I gotta go. I’ma holla at ya later.”

“Bye,” I said, and we both hung up.

Sean, Mario, Julian, and I have all been good friends since we were little. We are the Inseparable Foursome. We are all tight as four peas in a pod. We have little squabbles from time to time, but we always make up.

Rarely, we do get into BIG arguments, like the time Sean got a girlfriend and spent all of his time with her, and no longer spent time with us. We were so mad, we thought of kicking him out of the friendship.

We confronted Sean and told him we wouldn’t take a backseat to this girl and would stop being his friend if he continued to neglect us. Sean decided to balance our friendship with his relationship and we forgave him. He and his girlfriend broke up 6 months later because she felt that she didn’t like him too much anymore. We all consoled Sean, and he quickly got over her. I think.

The other “big” argument was the time when we robbed a convenience store and left with $1000. We argued over who should get the bulk of the money. Sean, Julian, and Mario wanted more than $250.00 from $1,000. ($250.00 is what each person gets from $1,000).

I told them that they were idiots because that was the only way four people could split $1,000 evenly. They called me a control freak and we almost had a physical fight right then and there. I had a sudden light bulb.

I didn’t want our relationship to end like this, over money. So I suggested that all three of them get $300 and I get $100. They asked if I didn’t want more than $100, and I told them no. So they were happy with the $300 they got, and I was happy with the $100. I got. $100 is still a lot of money, especially when you “earned” it.

The REAL story behind Darryl

Darryl being a 16 years old black got hooked on Newports and 40’s of malt liquor at an early age, but also being black was poor and had the street smarts to get what he needed without working.

His usual hookup was the ugly lady at the local Walgreens who turned her head when he came in for a special favor. He would like clockwork grab a 40 of Hurricane in the morning and sit on the curb and drink it, knowing it was the best part of his day. 15 minutes later he would be back in for another one, along with the pack of Newports the ugly cashier would selectively place for him to steal on the way out.

This repeated itself daily over and over until Darryl would be shitfaced drunk and the cashiers shift was over. He waited for her, knowing the bell was about to toll and it tolled for thee. As she carried her hideous handbag out the door, like the drunken puppy he was followed her to the bus stop. She had a crooked smile on, enough of a smile to show her deformed teeth, but also enough to show Darryl she was going to get her payoff for turning her one good eye to his thefts.

As they arrived at her rapidly deteriorating shack she called home, the cashier started working up Darryl’s “reward”. Darryl had lived this life too many times, wondering how smelly and big the log would be today. As the cashier dropped her pants, he assumed the position, ready to take her smelly shit on his chest. But he noticed something different this time, a lady with a crack pipe sitting in the corner pleasuring herself.

To be continued!

OMG...who could resist?

Mammie's back!

___________________________________

"What, you ain't ever seen a gal fuck herself with a crucifix before? No? How about Regan in 'The Exorcist?' "

Darryl had missed seeing such a thing before but he gazed in awe as the cross plummeted her depths while the body of a crucified christ rubbed and tickled her bulbous, swollen clit, over and over.

Mammie soon had to put down the crack pipe as she shivered, shook and barked at the image of Kobe on the kitchen wall, her thunderous orgasm nearly knocking the painting off its supportive nail and on to the stained linoleum floor.

"Whew...I needed that. OK, you kids finish up, I'll just watch..." and she reached for the Fireball, smiling, sated, satisfied.

Darryl had an idea.

"Hey Karen, instead of just shitting on me like you always do let's mix it up a bit. You know I have gay tendencies, dontcha? Well yeah, I do. So why not try using that lady's crucifix on me? I ain't got a clit but my prostate could give me a tingle."

Karen frowned, not wanting to give up the cathartic pleasure of shitting on Darry and having no clue as to what a "prostate" might be, but it was soon mutually agreed that she'd first shit on him, then ass fuck him with a crucifix.

Life is sweet when both parties get what they truly want and need.

Back to the near present. I love those guys. I don’t know if I would be able to take being so far away in Jacksonville while they were here in Miami. I’d miss my mom and dad (though he REALLY doesn’t want to pay child support for me), my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents.

I soon got that overwhelming feeling again. That overly sad feeling that I got at school. I was feeling deeply depressed again and I was afraid I was going to fall into a depressed trance. I decided I did not want to become slightly comatose, so I decided to shake my head and ‘snap out of it.” I went into my book bag and got out my “feel good” book, How To Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell.

I always read that book when I am feeling blue. It makes me laugh to read about people who would be stupid enough to eat worms for $50.00. The T.V. show fear Factor comes to mind when I read this book. These people will do ANYTHING to win money. One guy stuck his face in pig blood to pick out pig parts. Disgusting, but funny. I read some of the book and felt better. I was not overly depressed now, I was just a little bummed.

It was now 6:00. I turned on the TV to TVONE and watched Good Times. My favorite characters are Thelma and J.J. Thelma is fine and smart and J.J. is cool and funny. I don’t like Michael too much. Too me, he’s annoying and my least favorite character. I watched an episode called, “J.J. And The Boss’s Daughter.” J.J. dates Valerie, his boss’s daughter. Valerie wants J.J. to ditch his friends to hang out with her. Does this seem familiar?

After the episode was over, I ate some dinner and then took a shower, a little after that, I watched American Idol. I love watching people who CAN’T sing but think they can sing. I am an American Idol whore. I love when Simon harshly criticizes the ‘singers”. I swear, some of these “singers” are singing badly on purpose. But it makes for good television. One guy butchered a Michael Jackson song. I think it was “Thriller or maybe it was “Billie Jean.”

When American Idol was over, I watched another episode of GT. This time, it was an episode where Thelma wanted to be engaged to Larry. I felt so jealous. Larry was so lucky. Anyway, Mrs. And Mr. Evans (Florida and James) were against it. J.J. stood up to James for Thelma, and Thelma proved she really did love Larry, and that she wouldn’t marry Larry until they were both at least eighteen. (She had been 17). Her parents agreed to let her remain engaged to Larry.

After the show, I went to bed to go to sleep, I know, it was pretty early to go to sleep. It was only about 9:30, but when you are stuck at home, there’s really not much to do but sleep at this time (besides, I was tired). I fell asleep, and dreamt that I was in an airplane, and not only was I in the plane, I was piloting the plane. All of a sudden, the plane got out of control. It hit major turbulence and began shaking like crazy, and even began taking a nosedive.

The stewardess, the passengers, and my co-pilot were screaming, and what’s worse, even I was screaming and I’m supposed to look in control. I knew I couldn’t let everyone on the plane crash and die! I had to fix the problem. I pulled the shift stick, aligned the plane, and got us back on course. The plane glided smoothly, and passengers were crying. Out of relief or shocked fear, I don’t know. I turned to my co-pilot and he looked at me with awe and incredibility. “You really had us scared for a minute, Captain, but you pulled us out of trouble,” he said gratefully. The stewardesses looked a little disoriented, but okay. “That was a close one, Captain, “one of them said to me.

“You know how I do it,” I said a little smugly. I was getting a little cocky. Then I woke up.

I didn’t think much of the dream after I had woken up. I’m 16. Who would give a 16-year-old a pilot license? I laughed at the thought.

I looked at the clock. I t was 3:00 AM. I was still tired, so I went back to sleep.

I had another dream. I was riding a ride in the Youth Fair, and the ride got stuck in mid-air. I was terrified! I looked at the sign of the ride. The Ride Of Doom. How ironic, “I thought. Granted, it WAS fun until the ride got stuck.

The other people looked terrified too. I literally was stuck in the air. Some people were stuck close to the ground. I looked at my partner and he looked terrified too. “Someone help us!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Sorry,” the ride operator said. “You guys are stuck here. The ride is stuck. I’m going home. You guys will be fine when the electricity works again, which will be soon, I think.” He sounded unconvinced.

“Hey, you can’t just leave us here!” an angry voice yelled. “Hey, get us off this ride!” Another angry voice yelled. “Yeah! I have to get off this ride and go home!” Another angry voice yelled. “Sorry,” the operator said. “I’m leaving!” He started to walk away. A flurry of obscenities and profanities spewed out of the angry riders’ mouths. The operator looked helpless at us, and then ran off. He left us abandoned.

I decided to do a risky thing. It literally could have hurt me badly. I unbuckled the safety latches and seat belts and leapt out of the ride. Remember, I was in mid-air. I luckily landed on both feet with just a bit of a painful jolt as I landed. I quickly latched and buckled my partner back in, so he wouldn’t fall out. I already knew what I was going to do. I walked over to the operating station. I figured out quickly what had gone wrong. A wire had broken in half.

I quickly found another way to get the ride moving. I manually turned the dials and pushed a few buttons. I got the ride started again. I went as fats as I could and the ride went relatively fast. When the ride was over, I slowly pulled the ride to a stop. The riders were now all close to the ground. I pressed a button to release all latches and safety belts, and everyone got off the ride all right. They all looked shaken.

“I’m suing!” a few of them angrily exclaimed. “I am filing a report on this ride!” a few others exclaimed. “I’m never going on this ride again!” some others exclaimed. I didn’t blame them for saying those things.

“You are a hero young man!” a woman in her 20’s said to me, looking at me with bright eyes. “You saved us all!

“Yeah young man!” You ought to be on the NEWS!” a man in his 30’s said to me, shaking my hand. I smiled self-consciously. Then someone took a camera and surprised took a picture of me. My partner came up to me and gave me a hug. “Thank you for saving us.” I smiled and hugged him back. He looked to be about 12 years old.

Then I woke up. I was still smiling as I woke up. I had saved people on that ride! I felt happy! I looked at the clock. It was 6:00. It was time for me to get ready for school. I showered, brushed my teeth, put on lotion and deodorant, and put on my red T-shirt, blue jeans, white socks, and white Nike sneakers. I quickly brushed my hair, packed my book bag, and left my room to eat a bowl of Fruit Loops cereal. After breakfast, I got my book bag and keys, said “bye” to my mom and got into my car and drove to school.

At school, I was a little early. It was 7:15. School starts at 7:25. I went to the library which has computer access and went on www.amazon.com and typed in “Snoop Dogg”. When Snoop Dogg search results showed up, I clicked on “Doggy Style.”

I read some reviews about the album, such as one who said, “This album is great. I love the song, ‘Gin And Juice. That’s’ my favorite song from Snoop Dogg. All of the songs on this album are great! He’s a great rapper! 5 stars! Another review was not glowing at all. “I give this album a 1 star. Snoop Dogg is a washed up crack rapper. He has very little talent and ALWAYS looks stoned when he is on T.V. And that is because he is! I’m glad I didn’t buy this crap piece of trash. My cousin let me borrow it for free. I wish I could burn this CD, and not in the term we in 2005 say we want to “burn” CDs. I want to burn the CD in the literal way, with lots and lots of fire. Snoop Dogg needs to go away……………forever.

Whoa, harsh I thought. I read other reviews, and the stars and reviews were excellent. Basically, all the reviews were glowing except for that one harsh review. Overall, the CD got a 4 and a half star rating.

Hey look what I found

http://www.paceadvantage.com/forum/s...d.php?t=158536

https://www.mjjcommunity.com/threads/the-ex-thug.91192/

And here's a gem:

https://www.mygnrforum.com/topic/226558-weird-gnr-fans/

"Does she obsessively make new threads on not defunct guns n' roses forums about the first thing that enters her head, too? ... Does she have a thousand plus word creepy fan fiction referencing homoerotic encounters, as well?"


I have to hand it to V and Boz for developing a non-pharmaceutical alternative to Ozempic. These Mammie tales are real appetite killers.

Gotta say, this tale cannot hold a candle to Axl Rose et al: very poorly conceived and written as if the writer were a juvenile autistic Jamaican.

I stopped following it but I'll still flame ... it's what I do.

________________________________________

Mammie stuck the enema up Karen's nether eye and said "Damnit girl, stop that butt winking at me."

"Oh Mammie, you knows I and I jus' caint help myselfs sometime. 'Dat doctor, he say I and I has issues."

"Girl, you best learn to control yo' asshole or else you is gonna be in a world of hurt."

How prophetic, as when Karen was later undergoing her colonoscopy the surgeon stopped mid-probe and asked sua sponte: "Did her asshole just wink at me?"

"Yes doctor" said nurse Nathan, "It was a double wink."

Fully aware of relevant Catholic canon law Dr. V stopped the surgery and had Karen wheeled to a "secret" room deep in the basement of the ancient Catholic charity hospital.

Thunder peeled, lightning flashed.

"Assemble the team" he intoned, and soon a team of incense waving exorcists surrounded the newly awakening ghetto dweller, who groggily asked "Where am I?"

"Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Which?"

"I and I ain't no witch."

"She denied it! They always do. That proves it. OK boys, get to work..."

With that they strapped her down and alternated tickling her unmercifully and whipping her with thorns, all the while belting out GnR songs; this went on til she passed out and continued for two days whenever she regained consciousness.

At last her butt hole passed inspection: no more winking, just the usual nasty cling-ons.

"You can go home now, but DON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

Back in the ghetto Mammie swilled her Fireball, puffed her crack pipe and said "See? Told ya so..."

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Hey look what I found

http://www.paceadvantage.com/forum/s...d.php?t=158536

https://www.mjjcommunity.com/threads/the-ex-thug.91192/

And here's a gem:

https://www.mygnrforum.com/topic/226558-weird-gnr-fans/

"Does she obsessively make new threads on not defunct guns n' roses forums about the first thing that enters her head, too? ... Does she have a thousand plus word creepy fan fiction referencing homoerotic encounters, as well?"


I have to hand it to V and Boz for developing a non-pharmaceutical alternative to Ozempic. These Mammie tales are real appetite killers.

---

For the Guns N' Roses Fan Website, I basically was put on Thread Probation where the Admin was like,"Please stop making so many new Guns N' Roses Threads. It's overkill."

I am banned from Pace Advantage after starting like 67 posts in three years . Problem was, I made like 58 posts in like three weeks and I admitted I was banned from other Websites before. I specifically said that I was admitting I was banned because I didn't want to get banned from Pace Advantage too. The Admin said something like,"Should this Poster be banned and about 30 people said yes, 28 people said o and like 20 people were neutral"

A Poster stood up for me saying something like,"I REALLY don't think she should be banned. She made 58 posts in three weeks, 67 in three years. The Greatest Horse Jockey made 58 posts just today and he doesn't have a thread asking if he should be banned. I feel it's unfair to her when The Greatest Horse Jockey made 58 posts in ONE day wheres her 58 posts count was over three weeks. Her posting equivalent was only about 3 posts a day for three weeks."

The Pace Advantage Admin banned me anyways and admitted he banned me for admitting I was banned from other Websites. I REALLY didn't care about Pace Advantage though. I was using them until my Suspension from VCT was over and I was going to abandon them again when the Suspension ended. Before my banning I straight up implied I would be leaving Pace Advantage soon.

About the MJJ Community, on a now defunct Website, Posters were roasting me for posts I made on the MJJ Community Website. I hadn't visited MJJ Community Website in three years at that point. I replied something like,"I lost interest in Michael Jackson three years ago and stopped visiting the MJJ Community Website.i can't believe I'm getting roasted over posts I made at least three years prior.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Hey look what I found

http://www.paceadvantage.com/forum/s...d.php?t=158536

https://www.mjjcommunity.com/threads/the-ex-thug.91192/

And here's a gem:

https://www.mygnrforum.com/topic/226558-weird-gnr-fans/

"Does she obsessively make new threads on not defunct guns n' roses forums about the first thing that enters her head, too? ... Does she have a thousand plus word creepy fan fiction referencing homoerotic encounters, as well?"


I have to hand it to V and Boz for developing a non-pharmaceutical alternative to Ozempic. These Mammie tales are real appetite killers.

---

For the Guns N' Roses Fan Website, I basically was put on Thread Probation where the Admin was like,"Please stop making so many new Guns N' Roses Threads. It's overkill."

I am banned from Pace Advantage after starting like 67 posts in three years . Problem was, I made like 58 posts in like three weeks and I admitted I was banned from other Websites before. I specifically said that I was admitting I was banned because I didn't want to get banned from Pace Advantage too. The Admin said something like,"Should this Poster be banned and about 30 people said yes, 28 people said o and like 20 people were neutral"

A Poster stood up for me saying something like,"I REALLY don't think she should be banned. She made 58 posts in three weeks, 67 in three years. The Greatest Horse Jockey made 58 posts just today and he doesn't have a thread asking if he should be banned. I feel it's unfair to her when The Greatest Horse Jockey made 58 posts in ONE day wheres her 58 posts count was over three weeks. Her posting equivalent was only about 3 posts a day for three weeks."

The Pace Advantage Admin banned me anyways and admitted he banned me for admitting I was banned from other Websites. I REALLY didn't care about Pace Advantage though. I was using them until my Suspension from VCT was over and I was going to abandon them again when the Suspension ended. Before my banning I straight up implied I would be leaving Pace Advantage soon.

About the MJJ Community, on a now defunct Website, Posters were roasting me for posts I made on the MJJ Community Website. I hadn't visited MJJ Community Website in three years at that point. I replied something like,"I lost interest in Michael Jackson three years ago and stopped visiting the MJJ Community Website.i can't believe I'm getting roasted over posts I made at least three years prior.

---

Tasha, do you have a user account on every single forum on the internet? Here are three random forums

https://www.dendroboard.com/forums/
https://vampfreaks.com
https://dinotoyblog.com/forum/index.php

What are your usernames on these forums? What kind of gay fiction do you post there?

Darryl never realized how much he would enjoy the cashier shoving things up his ass, even if it was by an ugly woman who enjoyed shitting on him.

He told her he had a great idea and asked if she wanted to watch him drink some more 40’s and do a sing along to his favorite Johnny Rebel song. The cashier said “I beez lubin muzic, is it’s dat Guns & Roses cuntry tuff?”

Darryl said no, this is what should happen to us black folk, the motherland is calling us. And this song is about those nice white folk offering us a free trip back, complete with alcohol. The cashier said I never heard it but I’ll listen. So Darryl starting playing it and by the 3rd verse the Cashier was singing along, through the gaps in her teeth.

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Gather all those equals up and herd them on the pier

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Twenty million ugly coons are ready on the pier

"Hey there man, I ain't gettin' in that boat, looks like that boat's leakin' to me, man," (whack!) "Ooooh yes, White Man, here I come!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Boats are ready for the trip, we won't shed a tear

"You actin' like you don't love us nice colored folks any more," (whack!) "Ahhh! Ahhh, White Man brought us from Africa, your fault!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Hand that chimp his ugly stick, hand that buck his spear

"Hold on there man, I've left my bottle of wine back there on the dock," (whack!) "Ahhh! Oww, man!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Twenty million jigaboos, to Africa we'll steer

"How we gonna find Africa man, we ain't got no compass, how we gonna find that island, man," (whack!) "Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
There they go far out to sea, see them disappear

"Hello, hello back there on the dock, I believe this boat is leakin' man."

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Boats are leaking badly now, they sink, we've settled here

"Help! Help, we're sinking! Gggglllluggggg..."

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
No more nigger civil rights led by nigger queers

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Our homes, our schools, our city streets of niggers will be clear

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
America will be all white, the land we love so dear

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ship those niggers back
Ship those niggers back

As the tune finishing the Cashier was in a tizzy unlike any other she ever felt, even more so that the day Popeyes ran out of chicken.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8pyW6w5B7Aw

She said “I beez wanting to go backs dere toooes.” “But furs dat ders mty bottle looks goods”. And she went on to explain how she watched Mammie pleasure herself with empty 40’s for years but was always afraid to try it herself…

To be continued!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by The Boz

Darryl never realized how much he would enjoy the cashier shoving things up his ass, even if it was by an ugly woman who enjoyed shitting on him.

He told her he had a great idea and asked if she wanted to watch him drink some more 40’s and do a sing along to his favorite Johnny Rebel song. The cashier said “I beez lubin muzic, is it’s dat Guns & Roses cuntry tuff?”

Darryl said no, this is what should happen to us black folk, the motherland is calling us. And this song is about those nice white folk offering us a free trip back, complete with alcohol. The cashier said I never heard it but I’ll listen. So Darryl starting playing it and by the 3rd verse the Cashier was singing along, through the gaps in her teeth.

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Gather all those equals up and herd them on the pier

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Twenty million ugly coons are ready on the pier

"Hey there man, I ain't gettin' in that boat, looks like that boat's leakin' to me, man," (whack!) "Ooooh yes, White Man, here I come!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Boats are ready for the trip, we won't shed a tear

"You actin' like you don't love us nice colored folks any more," (whack!) "Ahhh! Ahhh, White Man brought us from Africa, your fault!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Hand that chimp his ugly stick, hand that buck his spear

"Hold on there man, I've left my bottle of wine back there on the dock," (whack!) "Ahhh! Oww, man!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Twenty million jigaboos, to Africa we'll steer

"How we gonna find Africa man, we ain't got no compass, how we gonna find that island, man," (whack!) "Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
There they go far out to sea, see them disappear

"Hello, hello back there on the dock, I believe this boat is leakin' man."

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Boats are leaking badly now, they sink, we've settled here

"Help! Help, we're sinking! Gggglllluggggg..."

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
No more nigger civil rights led by nigger queers

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
Our homes, our schools, our city streets of niggers will be clear

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ring that bell, shout for joy, white man's day is here
America will be all white, the land we love so dear

America's for whites, Africa's for blacks
Send those apes back to the trees, ship those niggers back

Ship those niggers back
Ship those niggers back

As the tune finishing the Cashier was in a tizzy unlike any other she ever felt, even more so that the day Popeyes ran out of chicken.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8pyW6w5B7Aw

She said “I beez wanting to go backs dere toooes.” “But furs dat ders mty bottle looks goods”. And she went on to explain how she watched Mammie pleasure herself with empty 40’s for years but was always afraid to try it herself…

To be continued!

---

Lol…excellent work

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Posters were roasting me for posts I made on the MJJ Community Website. I hadn't visited MJJ Community Website in three years at that point. I replied something like,"I lost interest in Michael Jackson three years ago and stopped visiting the MJJ Community Website.i can't believe I'm getting roasted over posts I made at least three years prior.

---

______________________________________

"wow, it's been three years since the Jamaican Joke got her ass booted from the board and the top thread is STILL the "Tasha discussion thread."

"Yes, never in my lifetime have I seen so much written about someone and something so unimportant."

"Amen, brother. But we really do have reasons to rag and drag her. Like how she said Michael couldn't REALLY walk on the moon 'cause his feet would get mired in all the green cheese."

"LOL, oh yeah, and who can forget her 'Michael isn't strange, it's the world that's strange' "

"Remember how that V guy mocked her for months after she talked about having dreamt of marrying Michael and having his child without having had sex with him? She said that since they're both asexual it was a Miraculous Conception."

"Ah, but who can forget her behavior at the forum's "meet 'n greet" held at the Church's Chicken in Miami? Talk about a show stopper, a knee slapper and a butt blaster."

"What a hoot; that Tasha shit the floor like a draft horse, the MFD had to use a fire hose to flush it out the door."

"Indeed, that gal was something. Not sure exactly what she was, but I'm sure glad she's gone off to infect other forums...she imploded MJJ."

"I heard she's submitted some of her stories to that esteemed site "True Passages:" rumor has it she's been hoping to put aside her asexual affectation and blow the admin. there hoping to get an edge."

"A girl's gotta do..."

Wow Boz, some of the things in your post were VERY offensive.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Posters were roasting me for posts I made on the MJJ Community Website. I hadn't visited MJJ Community Website in three years at that point. I replied something like,"I lost interest in Michael Jackson three years ago and stopped visiting the MJJ Community Website.i can't believe I'm getting roasted over posts I made at least three years prior.

---

______________________________________

"wow, it's been three years since the Jamaican Joke got her ass booted from the board and the top thread is STILL the "Tasha discussion thread."

"Yes, never in my lifetime have I seen so much written about someone and something so unimportant."

"Amen, brother. But we really do have reasons to rag and drag her. Like how she said Michael couldn't REALLY walk on the moon 'cause his feet would get mired in all the green cheese."

"LOL, oh yeah, and who can forget her 'Michael isn't strange, it's the world that's strange' "

"Remember how that V guy mocked her for months after she talked about having dreamt of marrying Michael and having his child without having had sex with him? She said that since they're both asexual it was a Miraculous Conception."

"Ah, but who can forget her behavior at the forum's "meet 'n greet" held at the Church's Chicken in Miami? Talk about a show stopper, a knee slapper and a butt blaster."

"What a hoot; that Tasha shit the floor like a draft horse, the MFD had to use a fire hose to flush it out the door."

"Indeed, that gal was something. Not sure exactly what she was, but I'm sure glad she's gone off to infect other forums...she imploded MJJ."

"I heard she's submitted some of her stories to that esteemed site "True Passages:" rumor has it she's been hoping to put aside her asexual affectation and blow the admin. there hoping to get an edge."

"A girl's gotta do..."

---

I wasn't booted from MJJ Community. I lost interest in Michael Jackson and stopped posting on my own.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

I wasn't booted from MJJ Community. I lost interest in Michael Jackson and stopped posting on my own.

---

It would have been better for your finances if you had lost interest in gambling and thus gambling forums while maintaining interest in Michael Jackson.

Now now, let her spin like a dradel, it's how she's built.

Most humans progress linearly: Karen zigs, zags and veers.

Yeah, there IS something wrong with that.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

I wasn't booted from MJJ Community. I lost interest in Michael Jackson and stopped posting on my own.

---

It would have been better for your finances if you had lost interest in gambling and thus gambling forums while maintaining interest in Michael Jackson.

---

Best advice anyone ever gave her but wasn’t worth the time wasted writing it.

She’s addicted to the gambling thinking in her shallow mind that it will change her life.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by The Boz

She’s addicted to the gambling thinking in her shallow mind that it will change her life.

---

Actually Boz, gambling has most certainly "changed her life," given the fact that when she's not working or shitting the flo' she's either in a casino or posting on internet forums, often about gambling.

The thing is that so far gambling has been a real NEGATIVE for her, she needs to turn it into a POSITIVE.

The girl needs to increase her bankroll and bet big at low vig games, not slots.

My suggestion: she should embezzle as much as possible from Walgreens, then con all her "casino friends" to "loan" her a huge gambling stake; then take a Greyhound to LV and be mentored by the Great Hound.

Yes, let that pinaccle of truth, honesty and the Arab way lead her down the yellow brick road to the Promised Land she so desperately seeks.

He'd show her how to slay the casinos at baccarat wihile getting fully comped for it; soon she too will be able to purchase and close on a seven figure LV mansion, just like he said he did.

Ah that reminds me of a story.

Tasha was fearful but full of excitement, the type of excitement she got on Tuesdays when KFC ran the $10 bucket special. She was going on a grand adventure unlike any she ever had before, but she was semi smart enough to know it would change everything for her. As she second guessed her choice, Mammie was the voice telling her to go, for her own selfish reasons of course. “Chili, you beez needn to does dis. It’s yo chance to get outs of Miami and see udder countries.” Since Mammie herself never left Florida she didn’t realize Las Vegas was still in the United States. “Its beez just nudder bus ride and they eben have dem tings to shit in”. “Oh Mammie yous no I don’t need dem” said Tasha.

So off to the Greyhound station on NW 21st Tasha went, carrying multiple Polaroids of her snatch in her hideous handbag to trade for a bus ticket. She also carried everything she owned in the suitcase that had been handed down generations in her fambily and once traveled the whole way to Orlando. Up to the counter she went and asked for a one way ticket to Las Vegas while pulling the snatch pics out for the worker. The cashier stated $69 and a frown came across her face, one worse than the day she found out the McRib was going away again. This grand adventure was over before it started unless she could think quickly, something she had never done before in her life. Tasha said but I don’t have any money, my casino friends are going to take care of me once I get there. But I have a special skill that comes in handy at times she thought, I’ll drop my granny panties and threaten to shit on the floor.

Tasha told the innocent Greyhound worker she was getting upset at the thought of not going to see her friends and change her life. And she may have an accident if she didn’t get on that bus. Ding, ding, ding, a bell went off of the cashiers head, as it buzzed at what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe it but he had possibly met the famous white whale he had heard of. He often smoked crack and drank with a young man named Darryl who told him a mythical tale of someone who could shit at will and often did it on his chest for allowing him to shoplift where she formerly worked. As Darryl had sucked him off before and he liked the kid, he figured he would save Darryl some aggravation and get her out of his shit coveted chest hair.

He told Tasha he was going to do her a favor and get her on her way for free if she didn’t shit on the floor. She thought “Mys luck beez chngn alreafy”. Not one for details, she only glanced at the ticket and failed to see New Mexico listed after Las Vegas as the cashier laughed hysterically as the bus pulled out.

To be continued.

Karen was quite surprised when she debarked the Greyhound in Las Vegas, New Mexico: where was the glitz, the glamour, the casinos?

All she espied were old store fronts and signs about "The Santa Fe Trail."

"Hmmm, 'dat mus' be a new casino game, 'dis Santa Fe Trail. I and I will has to try it."

Famished she ordered at a KFC and decided to eat ouside; while munching away a man sat next to her, asking "Is this seat taken?"

They soon chatted amiably; Karen had to ask the stranger the one question that had troubled her since her arrival: "Where be all de casinos at? Ain't 'dis Las Vegas?"

The stranger quickly caught on and decided to fuck with the clueless visitor.

"They all moved out last night" he said, "lock, stock and Faro table."

Karen was crestfallen.

"Oh no! And here I and I came all de way from Miami..."

Quick on the follow up, the gent said "Well you're in luck: they all just moved to Miami, that's where they are now."

This had the ring of truth to the autistic slot maven, so she decided to hitch hike back to Florida.

As luck would have it who stopped to pick her up but Rob Singer, driving his Newell...but let's leave that story for another day.

"Hey you, yeah you, the pickaninny...which way to Miami?"

"I and I was hopin' you'd know."

Rob pulled out his ragged Rand McNally road atlas and after a few minutes said "Looks like I'm headed in the right direction."

"Can you gives me a ride to Miami?"

"I don't normally bother to talk to let alone help you people but today is your lucky day. The toilet is all stopped up (too much cheese) and I need something or someone soft to shit on. You'll do."

This thought percolated briefly in the Nubian's noggin: yes, definite possibilities there, but first she should try something else.

"Would you likes some crotch shots 'stead o' shittin' on me? I and I gots lots of crotch shots but only one set o' clean clothes and it be a long ways to Miami."

"No, that's my offer, take it or leave it...and hurry up, I got to get to Miami post haste while the double bubble bug is still a valid AP."

Karen stopped in her tracks.

"Is you an AP too? I and I is a AP."

"You look more like an ape than an AP, but we can talk about it in the Newell, but first...nature calls...and when I'n ready to go you got to open your mouth wide..."

Karen soon learned the true meaning of the phrase "turn about is fair play."

Soon, it was 7:21. I logged off the computer and rushed to class. It was 7:24 when I sat down at my seat. My first class was Homeroom. Actually, it's not really a "class" as it is a "check in." We get our names called, answer, and do left over homework for about 15 minutes. Then we go to our "first" block of the day. We have block schedule, which means we only have three classes a day, for two hours each. We also have lunch for 45 minutes.

We have block 1, 3, and 5 today, and tomorrow we will have Block 2, 4, 6. I went to block 1, and we had to do Silent Reading for 30 minutes. Silent Reading is mandatory in all six blocks (even though many teachers sometimes skip it) My first block was an English class. We had to proofread another class’s Creative Essays. I almost fainted when I saw how bad my “student’s” essay was. Here is a little “piece” of the student’s essay. You can see why I almost fainted.

April 10, 2005. I went to the bech last weekend wit my hole phamily. We went swimming wit other people. I ain’t never had so much phun for in a long time. We swam for one our and then we eight lunch. It was chicken, and it was rice, and it was soda, and it was chips, and it was pretzels, and it was potato salad. We listened to the raydio and had heard sum good sungs. After we had laid down to dygest the food for a half an our, we went back to swimming. We swam for too more ours. Then we left.

There was more to this student’s essay, but I think I’ve put you in enough torture. I quickly proofread and edited the essay. I turned it in, and Mrs. Hayes looked at me with amazement. “I am surprised you went through this without going off the wall,” she said.

“I did feel like fainting when I saw this essay,” I confessed to her.

“I don’t blame you,” she said and gave me a sympathetic smile. I

I went back to my seat and waited for the other people to finish their assignments, and in the meanwhile, I began to finish my Silent Reading book. I had been reading Silent Night by R.L. Stine. It’s about a rich girl named Reva Dalby, the rich heiress of a department store. Her father, Robert Dalby owned Dalby’s Department Store. On the other hand, Mr. Dalby let his poor niece, Pam, live with her and his daughter. I found it extremely weird that Pam was Reva’s ONLY cousin.

I myself have TONS of cousins, and so does everyone else I know. Anyway, the cover is amazing, interesting, and eye catching. Reva looks like she is trapped in a mirror, her mouth and eyes are open wide in horror and shock, and there is snow outside the mirror.

Hey, how do you pronounce Reva? Is it pronounced REV like, “Revving up a motorcycle and adding an “A” or is it pronounced “Reeva” like how we pronounce Reba McIntyre? I just decided to read it like the motorcycle pronunciation.

Soon, everyone was done with their assignments. Darn it! Just when I was getting to a really good part. Reva was had just put on her lipstick and started to scream. Makeup shouldn’t make you scream.

I closed the book. Everyone else turned in their assignments. Mrs. Hayes put them on a stack on her desk. I knew that since we had proofread another class’s essays, they would be proofreading our essays. We had done essays last week. I wasn’t nervous because I knew I was great in grammar (spelling is part of grammar)

Mrs. Hayes told us our next assignment would be reading aloud from a play called, “A Midsummer’s Night Dream by Williams Shakespeare. I got to play Demetrius. A beautiful woman named Helena was madly in love with me (Demetrius), and I would shun her. Helena was played by a beautiful girl named Alicia.

Alicia is a dark milk-chocolate colored girl (think of a Snickers bar), with beautiful chocolate brown eyes, an oval face, and long brown hair, with a beautiful smile. She’s also tall and slender. Who would “shun” Alicia? She’s a really sweet girl. And what’s wrong with Demetrius? If a beautiful woman was in love with ME, I wouldn’t shun her. Anyway, it was fun playing a guy who would shun a beautiful woman.

After the reading, class was over, and it was time for Block 3. My block 3 is the bane of my day. It’s Math. Do you know what type of Math it is? Algebra. We had to some problems, and my brain just wasn’t working for the problems. I was hitting a wall with the problems. I was so frustrated trying to work on the problems. I HATE feeling stupid. Mr. Smith came up to me and asked if I needed any help.

He must have sensed my frustration. I was embarrassed. “No, I don’t need any help!” I snapped. I had a lot pf pride and he was embarrassing me. I am almost an honor student! I thought in my mind. Everyone was staring at me. I began to blush. Mr. Smith looked at me sympathetically. “I’m here if you need any help,” he said, and went back to his seat.

I worked on more frustrating problems, biting my lower lip. I kept hitting walls. I tried doing the integers assignment, but I was having trouble figuring out if two negatives equaled a positive or if a positive and a negative equaled a negative. I was having trouble figuring out what to do when the problem was a multiplication problem. Did we divide or multiply? What if it’s two different signs, like -8*-7? What’s the answer?

I worked on the problems, really frustrating my brain. I began to get a headache. I knew it was time to swallow my pride. I needed help. I got up and slowly walked to Mr. Smith’s desk, with my notebook, pencil, and textbook in my hands. I stood in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, and looking defeated and reluctant, confessed, “Mr. Smith, I need help.”

“Sure. I’m gonna help you,” he said, looking at me eagerly. “Sit down. There is a chair next to his desk for students to sit when they need help with problems. I sat down and told him the problems I was having. He took out a paper and one of his pens. “Darryl, here is how you solve addition problems. He wrote down 8+7. “That’s 15,” he said. (Duh). -8+7=-2, -8+-7=-15. The larger number for addition is the number that will determine the sign of the answer. Subtract when the signs are different.

For subtraction, add the opposite of the problem. For example, 25-5=20. Adding the opposite is 25+ (-5) =20. -8-(-2) would be -8+2. To solve, you would answer the problem -6. The larger number still determines the outcome of the sign. -12+ (-16) =-28. Add when the signs are the same, negative=negative, and pos=pos. Subtract when the signs are different.

For multiplication, 2(-8) =-16, because of the different signs. In this case ALWAYS put a negative sign in front of your answer, no matter what number has the negative sign. For example: (-3) (25) =-75. -5(-6) =30. Same signs =positive.

For division, (-50) divided by (-2) =25. Same signs=positive. -20 divided by 5=-4. Different signs=negative signs.

He asked me if I understood everything he was talking about. I had! I told him so, and he said, “I am going to give you two problems from each category and I want to see if you answer them correctly. “Okay,” I agreed.

He took out another paper and wrote down these problems: 1. -8+-6, 2. -8+6, 3. -10 - -5, 4. -10 -5, 5. -6*7, 6. -6*-7, 7. 9 divided by -3, 8. -9 divided by -3.

I followed the guidance he gave me on the paper, and for number one I answered -14. For 2, I answered -2. For 3, I answered -15. For 4, I answered -5. For 6, I answered 42. For 7, I answered -3. For 8, I answered, 3. I turned in the assignment. He quickly checked it and said, “You did good. You answered the questions correctly. I think you’re ready to do these problems on your own, Darryl.”

“Thank you for the compliment, and thanks for your help. I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I added.

“You’re welcome, and I understand why you snapped at me. You’re a smart kid, and for a teacher to ask if you need help is embarrassing. I know about the straight A’s you get in all your other classes.”

I looked at him in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“We teachers have our own little “chats.” It’s kind of a teacher alliance. We discuss students with each other. And we talk about you sometimes. About how bright and dedicated you are.

“Oh,” I said, feeling shy.

After just an hour, Rob had enough of the smell and dumped her across the Texas state in Amarillo. Tasha seeing the state sign felt a sense of joy she hadn’t felt since discovering Cawy Watermelon Soda. “Iz nos my history and iz nos Churches Chicken is from Texas and beez across from da Alamo from the letter days send me banning me for a year.”. Thinking Texas can’t be that big she thought she would walk there and give them a piece of her mind just like she did BBB.

Her first stop was the Circle K on the corner and asked the clerk where the Alamo was. And if there was a good chicken joint close by she could eat at on the way since Rob had a heart and threw her a sawbuck for the road. The minimum wage clerk hating how his life turned out figured he would fuck with this obviously retarted traveler. He sent her to the Big Texan Steakhouse down the street and said go out back and ask for Manuel, he will take care of you. Tasha exclaimed “Thanx yous, my luck beez changn already, iz beez givn does Churches people a piece of my mind”.

Making her way down the street she meet up with Manuel in a beat up van in the parking lot. “Hello iz beez Tasha and I was told yous can get me to the Alamo, I gotta getz by banning removed”. Manuel was used to dealing with poorly educated Mexicans daily but never met someone who appeared to be so stupid. He thought he could pimp her out but she was so ugly he didn’t even think the oil workers stuck in the field away from women for weeks would fuck her. So he figured she might be useful as a coyote. He asked her if she was interested in working for a few meals by picking up some friends for him. “Iz don’t nos how to drive but Iz do anything for some chicken”.

Jesus Fucking Christ he thought, first Trump drying the border up and now they send me this retard. What the fuck did I do to deserve this? This moron isn’t worth the trouble so figured he would try to buy some Karma to change his luck and also gave her a $20 and run far away from this walking black cloud.

Flush with $40 Tasha feeble mind started thinking “I beez havn nuff cash to gamble and change my life” and thinking the nearest casino should be on the walk to the Alamo. Getting back at the devious Chicken folks that banned her was the mission but the thought of playing some penny slots was more important. Like Mammie with cash and an empty glass pipe, the money was burning a hole in her torn, dirty pants.

To be continued

Looks like Gordo and Wiz are here as guests catching up on the latest adventures of their favorite laughingstock.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

My block 3 is the bane of my day. It’s Math. Do you know what type of Math it is? Algebra.
...
He wrote down 8+7. “That’s 15,” he said. (Duh). -8+7=-2, -8+-7=-15.

---

Tasha, arithmetic with negative numbers isn't algebra. And -8 + 7 is -1, not -2. This is elementary school stuff. No wonder the the other kids at school call him "Duh-rryl" behind his back. Like I suggested before, maybe you should leave out the academic details and focus on stuff you know more about, like snack foods and scratch offs. Every time you write about school subjects Darryl encounters, especially math, you betray your own ignorance.

Tasha started shaking, perspiration flowed down her forehead: it was that old Gamblin' Itch...

"I and I needs to gets to a 'sino fast as I and I can" she muttered aloud while espying a curious sight: a short, older guy, dressed like a gypsy, was crying aloud.

"You poor mans, what is 'de matter, why you crying?"

"Oh woe is me! I am an organ grinder and my monkey has run away! How can I grind my organ without a monkey? If I had that monkey back I'd grind away and make a lot of money, but now I am well and truly fucked."

Never one to pass up an opportunity Tasha smiled and said "Boz says I and I looks like an ape; can I and I do it?"

Desperation trumped discernment: "You can try. What have we to lose?"

Soon Tasha was leashed to the organ, but then the question of what to play arose.

"Does you know any Guns 'n Roses songs?" queried the wannabe simian.

"Do I? Hell, my doppelganger was one of his band mates so yeah, I know and love them all."

Ah, good luck...you never know when it will descend upon you, much like herpes.

Soon they perfected their curious act; initially it went over like a lead balloon, passersby preferring to make sure they didn't step on sidewalk cracks rather than pay attention to the curious duo.

"We gots to do some..."

Tasha had to stop in mid-sentence as a call of nature demanded her immediate attention; she dropped trou, squatted and let loose.

This immediately brought a crowd of looky-loos.

One, a survivor of the Waco Texas siege and a Branch Davidian got on her knees, howling "Oh lord, that looks like the face of David Koresh! He has returned to save us all!"

Without further ado she attempted to scoop up the newly created religious artifact but was stopped by Tasha who said "'Dis will cost you."

Soon Tasha had a Franklin as did the organ grinder and the devotee slinked off with her stinky reincarnation.

"OK, now's ta gamble. Where's the casino?"

A passerby had overheard and said "Hey monkey lady, the closest casino is 163 miles away in Clinton."

Tasha collapsed in despair.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Hi. My name is Darryl Johnson and I am a 16 year old at Marshall Johnson prep school. This institution was founded in 1898 when a very entrepreneurial son of an oil owner had a vision of creating a school for young scholars.

---

"Cut!" the director yelled. "We are making a promo video for a school for hoodrats who want to become regular non-hoodrat folks. Why in the hell is you crip walking, Darryl?" the director yelled some more. "Who the hell told you to crip walk while introducing yourself and the school?"

Darryl couldn't explain himself. He just thought crip walking while giving an intro looked cool. He had another idea. "Hey director man, sorry about crip walking. I have another idea. Why don't I write some equations and math and shit on a blackboard while I'm introducing myself. That way I can look real smart and people watching this video think this is a school for smart kids."

The director agreed to try out Darryl's idea and soon they began reshooting another scene in a classroom. Darryl got a piece of chalk and began writing some math facts on the board:

-8 x -7 = -87
-7 x -8 = -78
5 x 5 = 55

The director began laughing hysterically. Darryl did not understand what was so funny. Maybe I should switch from multiplication facts to reducing some fractions, he mused. Darryl then begin writing some more:

16/64 = 1/4 (crossing out the sixes)
163/326 = 1/2 (crossing out the threes and the sixes)
19/95 = 1/5 (crossing out the fives)

The director stopped laughing and adjusted his glasses. "Holy hell, this kid is either dumber than a box of pubes or a genius," he muttered.

Soon, it was 7:21. I logged off the computer and rushed to class. It was 7:24 when I sat down at my seat. My first class was Homeroom. Actually, it's not really a "class" as it is a "check in." We get our names called, answer, and do left over homework for about 15 minutes.

Then we go to our "first" block of the day. We have block schedule, which means we only have three classes a day, for two hours each. We also have lunch for 45 minutes. We have block 1, 3, and 5 today, and tomorrow we will have Block 2, 4, 6. I went to block 1, and we had to do Silent Reading for 30 minutes. Silent Reading is mandatory in all six blocks (even though many teachers sometimes skip it)

My first block was an English class. We had to proofread another class’s Creative Essays. I almost fainted when I saw how bad my “student’s” essay was. Here is a little “piece” of the student’s essay. You can see why I almost fainted.

April 10, 2005. I went to the bech last weekend wit my hole phamily. We went swimming wit other people. I ain’t never had so much phun for in a long time. We swam for one our and then we eight lunch. It was chicken, and it was rice, and it was soda, and it was chips, and it was pretzels, and it was potato salad. We listened to the raydio and had heard sum good sungs. After we had laid down to dygest the food for a half an our, we went back to swimming. We swam for too more ours. Then we left.

There was more to this student’s essay, but I think I’ve put you in enough torture. I quickly proofread and edited the essay. I turned it in, and Mrs. Hayes looked at me with amazement. “I am surprised you went through this without going off the wall,” she said.

“I did feel like fainting when I saw this essay,” I confessed to her.

“I don’t blame you,” she said and gave me a sympathetic smile. I

I went back to my seat and waited for the other people to finish their assignments, and in the meanwhile, I began to finish my Silent Reading book. I had been reading Silent Night by R.L. Stine. It’s about a rich girl named Reva Dalby, the rich heiress of a department store. Her father, Robert Dalby owned Dalby’s Department Store. On the other hand, Mr. Dalby let his poor niece, Pam, live with her and his daughter. I found it extremely weird that Pam was Reva’s ONLY cousin.

I myself have TONS of cousins, and so does everyone else I know. Anyway, the cover is amazing, interesting, and eye catching. Reva looks like she is trapped in a mirror, her mouth and eyes are open wide in horror and shock, and there is snow outside the mirror. Hey, how do you pronounce Reva? Is it pronounced REV like, “Revving up a motorcycle and adding an “A” or is it pronounced “Reeva” like how we pronounce Reba McIntyre? I just decided to read it like the motorcycle pronunciation.

Soon, everyone was done with their assignments. Darn it! Just when I was getting to a really good part. Reva was had just put on her lipstick and started to scream. Makeup shouldn’t make you scream.

I closed the book. Everyone else turned in their assignments. Mrs. Hayes put them on a stack on her desk. I knew that since we had proofread another class’s essays, they would be proofreading our essays. We had done essays last week. I wasn’t nervous because I knew I was great in grammar (spelling is part of grammar)

Mrs. Hayes told us our next assignment would be reading aloud from a play called, “A Midsummer’s Night Dream by Williams Shakespeare. I got to play Demetrius. A beautiful woman named Helena was madly in love with me (Demetrius), and I would shun her. Helena was played by a beautiful girl named Alicia.

Alicia is a dark milk-chocolate colored girl (think of a Snickers bar), with beautiful chocolate brown eyes, an oval face, and long brown hair, with a beautiful smile. She’s also tall and slender. Who would “shun” Alicia? She’s a really sweet girl. And what’s wrong with Demetrius? If a beautiful woman was in love with ME, I wouldn’t shun her. Anyway, it was fun playing a guy who would shun a beautiful woman.

After the reading, class was over, and it was time for Block 3. My block 3 is the bane of my day. It’s Math. Do you know what type of Math it is? Algebra. We had to some problems, and my brain just wasn’t working for the problems. I was hitting a wall with the problems. I was so frustrated trying to work on the problems. I HATE feeling stupid. Mr. Smith came up to me and asked if I needed any help.

He must have sensed my frustration. I was embarrassed. “No, I don’t need any help!” I snapped. I had a lot pf pride and he was embarrassing me. I am almost an honor student! I thought in my mind. Everyone was staring at me. I began to blush. Mr. Smith looked at me sympathetically. “I’m here if you need any help,” he said, and went back to his seat.

I worked on more frustrating problems, biting my lower lip. I kept hitting walls. I tried doing the integers assignment, but I was having trouble figuring out if two negatives equaled a positive or if a positive and a negative equaled a negative. I was having trouble figuring out what to do when the problem was a multiplication problem. Did we divide or multiply? What if it’s two different signs, like -8*-7? What’s the answer?

I worked on the problems, really frustrating my brain. I began to get a headache. I knew it was time to swallow my pride. I needed help. I got up and slowly walked to Mr. Smith’s desk, with my notebook, pencil, and textbook in my hands. I stood in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, and looking defeated and reluctant, confessed, “Mr. Smith, I need help.”

“Sure. I’m gonna help you,” he said, looking at me eagerly. “Sit down. There is a chair next to his desk for students to sit when they need help with problems. I sat down and told him the problems I was having. He took out a paper and one of his pens. “Darryl, here is how you solve addition problems. He wrote down 8+7. “That’s 15,” he said. (Duh). -8+7=-2, -8+-7=-15. The larger number for addition is the number that will determine the sign of the answer. Subtract when the signs are different.

For subtraction, add the opposite of the problem. For example, 25-5=20. Adding the opposite is 25+ (-5) =20. -8-(-2) would be -8+2. To solve, you would answer the problem -6. The larger number still determines the outcome of the sign. -12+ (-16) =-28. Add when the signs are the same, negative=negative, and pos=pos. Subtract when the signs are different.

For multiplication, 2(-8) =-16, because of the different signs. In this case ALWAYS put a negative sign in front of your answer, no matter what number has the negative sign. For example: (-3) (25) =-75. -5(-6) =30. Same signs =positive.

For division, (-50) divided by (-2) =25. Same signs=positive. -20 divided by 5=-4. Different signs=negative signs.

He asked me if I understood everything he was talking about. I had! I told him so, and he said, “I am going to give you two problems from each category and I want to see if you answer them correctly. “Okay,” I agreed.

He took out another paper and wrote down these problems: 1. -8+-6, 2. -8+6, 3. -10 - -5, 4. -10 -5, 5. -6*7, 6. -6*-7, 7. 9 divided by -3, 8. -9 divided by -3.

I followed the guidance he gave me on the paper, and for number one I answered -14. For 2, I answered -2. For 3, I answered -15. For 4, I answered -5. For 6, I answered 42. For 7, I answered -3. For 8, I answered, 3. I turned in the assignment. He quickly checked it and said, “You did good. You answered the questions correctly. I think you’re ready to do these problems on your own, Darryl.”

“Thank you for the compliment, and thanks for your help. I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I added.

“You’re welcome, and I understand why you snapped at me. You’re a smart kid, and for a teacher to ask if you need help is embarrassing. I know about the straight A’s you get in all your other classes.”

I looked at him in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“We teachers have our own little “chats.” It’s kind of a teacher alliance. We discuss students with each other. And we talk about you sometimes. About how bright and dedicated you are.

“Oh,” I said, feeling shy.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

The director agreed to try out Darryl's idea and soon they began reshooting another scene in a classroom. Darryl got a piece of chalk and began writing some math facts on the board:

-8 x -7 = -87
-7 x -8 = -78
5 x 5 = 55

The director began laughing hysterically. Darryl did not understand what was so funny. Maybe I should switch from multiplication facts to reducing some fractions, he mused. Darryl then begin writing some more:

16/64 = 1/4 (crossing out the sixes)
163/326 = 1/2 (crossing out the threes and the sixes)
19/95 = 1/5 (crossing out the fives)

The director stopped laughing and adjusted his glasses. "Holy hell, this kid is either dumber than a box of pubes or a genius," he muttered.

---

(8 + 7 + 87 + 7 + 8 + 78 + 5 + 5 + 55 + 16 + 64 + 1 + 4 + 163 + 326 + 1 + 2 + 19 + 95 + 1 + 5) = (1 + 961 - 7 + 2) ---> 1961_July 2 .

I went back to my desk. I opened up my math book and textbook and worked on the problems. I wasn’t hitting walls anymore, because I had help now. I just followed the “Guidance” paper, and I knew I did fine. I wasn’t frustrated anymore, and my headache was long gone. I felt great!

We had lunch break in the middle of the second block (this one), and I went to the cafeteria and stood in the line. Hooray! They were serving Pizza Hut! That’s my favorite pizza company! I was served a HUGE slice!


My goodness, that pizza almost covered the whole tray! I loved it! For sides, I got corn and chocolate pudding. For a drink, I had a red milk carton (whole milk). I went to the third row of tables. Actually, each “row” has smaller tables which are all separated. I saw Sean and Julian. (Mario didn’t share our lunch period). I sat next to them.

“Don’t you guys love pizza day? I asked them. “Don’t you guys love these big slices?”

“These “slices” are so big they actually look like the lunch lady gave us the whole box instead of just one slice each,” Sean said wryly. He had a wry smile on his face.

“Yeah, I love it,” I answered Sean. “How about you?” I asked Julian.

Julian answered, “I love fatty, greasy foods. So I am loving these humongous pizzas.” He smiled.

A girl named Andie came up to us and said, “This pizza is disgusting. How can you guys actually enjoy all this fat and grease the pizza has in it?”

“Because we’re guys,” I answered. “You girls pick at salads and frown at tasty foods like hamburgers and fried chicken. We guys don’t know the meaning of the word “diet”. You girls worship that word.

“You are a sexist person!” Andie said angrily.

“How is that being sexist?” I asked.

“It just is,” Andie said frowning.

“Then why’d you pick the pizza?”

“I didn’t want to hurt the lunch lady’s feelings. I’m throwing this pizza away,” Andie said decisively.

“You’re going to throw away good food?” I asked her, upset.

“Yeah. I don’t want to gain any more weight,” she said, patting her slim stomach. She could actually use more pounds, I thought.

Out loud I said, “Why don’t you blot out all the excess grease with a napkin and then eat the pizza? You would still save calories and fat,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she said, brightening up a little. “I’ll do that.” She went to the next row. I carefully watched her. She blotted the grease from the pizza and ate it (the pizza). I hate seeing people throw away good food.

I always eat MY food, down to the last crumb. I ate my own humongous pizza. I love pizza. That’s one my favorite foods. I ate the corn, then ate the chocolate pudding, and then drank my milk. I chatted with Sean and Julian a little more, and then lunch was over.

I walked back to Math class, and finished the math problems. We turned in the assignments, and Mr. Smith asked ME to do a random integers problem on the board. I had already shown him I could do the work, but I guess he wanted to see I f I could do a problem correctly in front of the class. I agreed. I went up to the board.

“Darryl, I want you to do a multiplication problem. Do 8 negative times positive 4.

“I wrote down, “-8*4. “Can I use the guidance paper?” I asked.

“I would really like it if you didn’t,” he said gently. I knew what that meant. No. I had to do this all on my own. I had to remember how I had answered the other questions like this without the guidance paper. I tried to remember how to do the problem.

“Take your time,” Mr. Smith said gently. I did. In one minute, I remembered. The answer will always be negative if the signs are different, but still multiply!

I answered, “-32.”

Mr. Smith said, “Good job, Darryl!” I beamed. I know integers! I know integers! I inwardly gloated.

After class, Mr. Smith stopped me on my way out. “Darryl, maybe you need Remedial Math. Maybe you should be taught in a smaller class,” he suggested gently. “I see you struggling in Math. Maybe Remedial Math would be the best thing for you.”

“I. I…... I started. He was suggesting that I be put in a Learning Disability class! I was one of the brightest students in his class! (Not in Math, though). I was beginning to feel that pride well up in me again, and a little voice told me to tell the pride to shut up and accept help in Math.

“Yes, I WOULD,” I started slowly.

“Why do you say “would” like that?” He asked me perplexed.

“Because I might be leaving the school soon,” I answered.

“Oh? What happened?’

“I was not about to tell Mr. Smith about my crime spree and the ultimatum my mom gave me. I was about to omit that part.

“I might be going to prep school. Saying “boarding school” would sound like a punishment. “Prep school” sounded much nicer.

“Oh? Which one?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“You don’t know which prep school you might go to?” he repeated, furrowing his brows.

I know, it did sound ridiculous. “My mom just made me apply for a scholarship to ANY prep school. Do you know if prep schools teach remedial Math?" I asked him.

“They should," Mr. Smith answered. “When I was growing up, they did. In the meanwhile, why don’t you transfer to a Math remedial class? Just have him sign the transfer slip and bring it to the front office? I’ll give you a note to give to your Block 5 teacher to excuse your lateness so that you don’t have an unexcused tardiness.”

He wrote me an excuse note and got out a transfer slip. He handed me both. I put the excuse note in my left pocket and the transfer slip in my right pocket and begun to walk to Block 5.

Wally, a security guard saw me. “Hey, young man, do you know you’re tardy? Do you have a pass in order to avoid detention?” I pulled out Mr. Smith’s note. Wally looked at it, and told me that was fine. I put the note back in my pocket and rushed to class. I didn’t want any more security guards stopping me.

Our school has mandatory lockout. After the final bell for each class is rung, the teachers MUST lock their classroom doors. It’s so students can’t "sneak in” to class late. They have to knock on the doors in order to be let in.

I knocked on Mrs. Cox’s Science door. She opened the door. “My,my, my. Who do we have here? It’s Darryl, come to join us on his own sweet time. I hope Darryl has an acceptable excuse for being late.”

“I do,” I said. I handed her the Mr. Smith’s next. She accepted it.

“This will do,” she said.

I sat down at my desk. My “Science” class was actually Biology. In Biology, we had to read about the life of plants. We read about chlorophyll and photosynthesis. Then we had to grow our own plants. Mrs. Cox gave us seeds, and we each walked over to empty plant cups that were filled with soil, and she told us to put the seeds in the soil and water them. I did. All of us did.

Mrs. Cox told us to sing to our plants. We all looked at her like she was crazy. Sing to the plants?

“Plants love songs. Sing to them,” she insisted. “They will grow.”

I sang, “It’s Peanut Butter and Jelly time! Peanut Butter and Jelly time! Where he at, I don’t know! Where he at, I don‘t know! It’s Peanut Butter and Jelly time!” Then I sang, “To the window to the wall, to the sweat run down my balls, to all these bitches crawl, to all skeet skeet mother****er!”

“Darryl! That’s not what I meant by “singing” to the plants. And what you are “singing” is Hip-Hop! And please, no more profanity,” Mrs. Cox admonished.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Cox,” I apologized. I won’t do it again,” I promised.

“Please choose another song, something a lot more soothing,” she said softer.

I sang, “Treated me kind, sweet destiny.” (That’s the first lyric of Vision of Love by Mariah Carey.) Then I skipped a whole lot of the song and sang, “I had a vision of love, and it was all that you’ve given to me.” Then I jumped all over the song. I

sang, “Straight through the nights, so faithfully, knowing that the one that I needed would find me eventually. I had a vision of love, and it was all that you turned out to be.” Then I sang more of Vision of Love, and Mrs. Cox was satisfied.

“That’s much better, Darryl,” she said with a small smile. “Everybody else, sing to your plants." The majority of the class sang either pop songs, like Christina Aguilera songs and NSYNC songs, or R&B like Usher and Keith Sweat songs, but someone sang a folk type of song, “What’s Going On” by 4 Non Blondes!

After class was over, I went to my car and drove home. My mom was home. She had been off for two days. Yesterday had been her first day off.

“Hi, Darryl,” she said, smiling at me. "How was your day?”

“It was fine,” I answered. “But I am about to transfer into a Math remedial class.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! She said. “You’ll get the help you need!” She excitedly wrapped her arms around me. I tried to seem as happy as she was, but I wasn’t. I didn’t want to go to remedial Math too much. It’s still and LD class.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Math Remedial falls under the category of ‘Special education.’ You know, Learning Disability?” I answered her.

“But you will be getting help." She pointed out again.

“Yeah, but I won’t learn much. I might be going to boarding school soon, remember?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly.

I gave her the transfer slip. I had until Thursday to get it signed. I would get it signed the next day, on Wednesday.

She looked at it for a few seconds, and then gave it back to me. “When do the results of the test come back?” She asked me.

“They should come back one week after I took them, so I would say next Monday,” I replied.

“Good,” she said.

I went to my room to do my homework. I had Homework from my English Class. I didn’t have any Math homework since today was my last day in Mr. Smith’s class.

Homework was proofreading a letter from a handout Mrs. Hayes had given us. This is the handout.

April 15, 2005. We went too a fre muzik consert in a park. Wee where so exited to cee acks like Kristina Agulera, Richard Marks, Sierra, and Rik Springfield. We ate potato calad, korn on the kob, and pissa. Then we played frisbe after the consert. We went home it was like 11:00, or 12:00, or 1:00. It was a grate nite.

I fixed the mistakes, and then I put my homework in my backpack. I washed and dried my mother’s and my laundry, folded them, and put them away. Then I cleaned my room. I swept and dusted, fixed up my dresser, and made my bed.

I would have gone on the computer and surfed the net, but both computers were at the computer repair shop. I usually have a computer in my room and there is another computer in our family room. I watched my “White Chicks” DVD.


I love that movie! Shawn and Marlon Wayans go undercover as rich and spoiled heiresses Brit and Tiff. It’s really funny! You’ve gotta see it.


After the movie, I switched from DVD player to “DirecTV” and changed the channel to The Simpsons. I turned on my DVR and pressed record so I could go take a shower. After showering, I finished watching the Simpsons. I pressed “Stop” and turned off the DVR.

I watched some more TV, and then listened to some songs on the radio, and ate dinner. After dinner, I watched some more TV, and then went to bed. You see how boring my life is when I’m not doing crime? I’m boring myself as I write this.

When I woke up, it was the same routine as I had done yesterday to get ready for school. At school, I arrived at 7:23, so I went straight to Homeroom. After Homeroom, I went to Block 2. In Block 2, during Silent Reading, I continued reading Silent Night. I found out why Reva had screamed.

She had screamed because someone had put a needle in her lipstick! There was blood running from her lips, and she quickly wiped her lips. When she told Mitch, one of her dad’s young employees what had happened, Mitch told her, “That’s because no one likes you, Reva.” I thought that was rude of Mitch!

I read some more, and then Silent Reading was over. The Block I was in was reading. I LOVE this subject. We read a story about a boy who finds a genie lamp. It was called, “The Best Day of Your Life!” In it, the boy finds the genie, and the genie says he will grant him a wish.

The boy wishes for the next day to be the best day if his life. The next day, he has a great day. He gets an A in class, gets smug, the girl he likes talks to him and he acts like a big peacock, strutting around her, looking cool, and he does great in basketball. When he goes home at night, the genie still says that tomorrow will be the best day of his life.

The boy is ecstatic! Even better than this day? He goes to school the next day, and finds out he is doing the same day over again. He realizes that his classmates look resentful of him, something he hadn’t realized before, and the girl he was strutting around looks upset at how he is acting.

He wants to stop this day, but he can’t. He begins to feel trapped. He goes home again, and that night, the genie STILL says, ‘Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!” The next day, the same day happens again.

He is stuck in the same day and wants it to stop. He is really feeling trapped now. He relieves the day the next day, and just goes through the motions. When he goes home again, he wants to beg the genie to undo the wish, but he can’t say that, since he is repeating the same day again. The story ends with, “Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!”

I really felt sorry for the kid. Imagine being stuck in the same day forever? Well, at least he’ll never die, I thought.

After the reading, we had to answer questions from a short story about a boy who travels into outer space. We finished that in about 30 minutes, and then we watched a short film about the fundamentals of reading. After the film, our teacher, Mr. Simms, told us we had to do a summary on the film for homework, and then class was over. After that, it was Block 4, Government. We talked about George W. Bush.

We had a lot of heated discussion about him. I said, “I think George Bush is running America into the ground. Think about it. The tragedy of September 11, 2001 happened while he was the president. I think he needs to be impeached. He’s not doing a really good job.” Another student said, “I actually LIKE George W. Bush. He’s bringing America UP not DOWN.

Another student said, “Well, it happened under HIM. And why hasn’t he caught Osama Bin Laden yet? Bush is wasting time and money with Iraq,” the student who defended Bush said, “Well; it is hard to find a sneaky criminal mastermind rat like Osama.”

“How do we even know Osama did crash the airplanes into the World Trade center buildings and The Pentagon? Where is the proof?” Another student asked.

“The proof is on the news and in the newspapers. Osama was seen on live tape talking about what he did with the airplanes,” I answered him. Was this student living under a rock?

“Well, how do we know that that was Osama and not some imposter?” The same student asked.

He was right. How could we tell that Osama really had confessed to the doings of September 11th? Any Iraqi male could imposter Osama.

I told him he had a valid point. He said, “Than you.” This was sort of a “free day” and we just sat around talking about government in general for a long while. Then it was lunch time.

At lunch, I had chicken legs, mashed potatoes, whole milk, and a fruit cup. As I ate, I thought about the U.S. Government. How DID America stack up against other nations? I knew some countries were envious of us, but I also knew some countries spat on us. Hmm. After lunch, we went back to block 4. We began talking about George W. Bush again.

“Didn’t Jeb Bush throw away votes for Al Gore so that George could win?” One student stated/asked.

“That was just a rumor,” our teacher, Mr. Kelley answered.

“Didn’t Cubans vote for George Bush because they thought that George Bush would help overthrow Castro?” Another student asked.

“And how was Bush going to help overthrow another country’s dictator?” I replied. “I am sure that was just a rumor too.”

“I heard a rumor that George Bush wanted to have mandatory year round school for all schools in the country,” another student said. “Thank god that didn’t happen.”

“If that did happen, I am sure Congress would step in. They have more power than the President, don’t you know? “I replied.

“They do?” Another student replied mystified.

Mr. Kelley said, “Darryl’s right. As a whole, Congress can overrule the President.”

“That’s interesting,” another student replied. A few other students murmured in agreement.

“Can they PLEASE tell George Bush to go away?” One student joked.

Mr. Kelley said, “They can impeach the President if he does something really bad.”

“Like letting airplanes crash into the World trade Center and Pentagon?” The same student retorted, being a smart aleck.

“I guess they didn’t think that warranted an impeachment,” Mr. Kelley replied.

We talked more about the President and government, and then class was over. For homework we had to write a letter to ‘George Bush”, telling him what we thought about September 11th. Actually, Mr. Kelley was going to be “George Bush.”

In Block 6, I had Intro to Computers. In that class, we had to do an assignment on Word. We had to write a Creative Story. My story was about a soldier who comes home to see his one true love, his girlfriend of two years, after being in the Navy for the past 3 months. I was kind of graphic without being sleazy or pornographic with their love scenes. (Basically, it was a LOT of making out and hugging, but nothing more). I hit save and Print and turned it in.

Then we had to do some Excel Spreadsheets. After the Excel assignment, we had “free time”. I went to the internet and went on Yahoo.com to watch some music videos. I watched “Fallin” by Alicia Keys, “You Drive Me Crazy” by Britney Spears, “Uh-Huh” by B2K, and “Lucky Star” by Madonna. When I was done watching the videos, there were still 30 minutes left.

I asked for a pass to get the transcript signed. My teacher, Mr. Randall said okay. (I have four male teachers). I went to Mr. Wilkerson’s room and got him to sign it. Then I took the signed paper to the office and they switched my Math class. Then I rushed back to my computer class. There were still 10 minutes left.

I took out my CD player and listened to my Ciara CD again for the remaining time (we are allowed to listen to music quietly if we have free time).

When class was over, I drove home again. I had the same routine again. I don’t want to go into detail.

The next day, I showed up at Mr. Wilkerson’s room. I was amazed that there were only about 10 other students in remedial Math. Mr. Smith’s class had about 28 students. Mr. Wilkerson had me introduce myself to the class. “Hi. I’m Darryl Johnson, a transfer from Mr. Smith’s Math class,” I said, smiling a little nervously.

“Hi, welcome” everyone warmly said. I felt a lot better and began to relax.

Mr. Wilkerson gave me a diagnostic test. At first, I did fine with the basic Math, but once again stuck with the harder ones. Mr. Wilkerson told me I didn’t have to finish all of the test since this was a diagnostic test. I just had to go as far as I knew; I did all of the integers problems, since I could now ace them, since Mr. Smith had taught me how to do them.

I left questions that were advanced blank, I turned it in. Mr. Wilkerson checked my test while I tried to get to know the other students. There were three Hispanics, Jason Ales, a Cuban, Pablo Ales (they were not related), a Puerto Rican, Jorge Jimenez, a cuban, and everybody else were Haitians.(About 58% of North Niami High is Haitian.

We even have a BIG schoolwide celebration on May 18th for Haitian Flag Day.) There were Patrick Hens, Daphne Walton, Octavia Pierce, Willie Anston, Jim Inns, Richard Andrews, Karen Wilson, and Jean Doors (just because they had American sounding last names didn’t mean they weren’t Haitian). They all seemed really nice.

After I got to know everybody, my test was graded. Mr. Wilkerson said I was really good at basic Math and integers, but didn’t know other advanced Math besides integers. I knew that. To make a long story short, he helped me a lot with Advanced Math. I really don’t want to go into detail about Math. I will just say, I understood much more about Math than I had before.

The week went by fast and some of the following went by fast as well. On Wednesday, Mr. Kurns called me into his office and gave me my test results.

Mr. Johnson, your SAT scores are Verbal, 1700, Written, 1800, Math 1350. Your FCAT Scores are English, Number 4, reading, 4, and your Math was a 3. Your IQ is 120.

I nodded my head slowly, showing that I was being attentive. Those were pretty good scores. My IQ was 120? That’s Superior! I’m a genius! I’m a genius! I inwardly gloated.

I put my test results in my book bag. Mr. Kurns said, “And now here comes the good part. (He smiled at me jokingly, because everything was a “good part”). “You have been accepted at Marshall Johnson Academy School in Jacksonville.”

“I was accepted! I had so many emotions running through me. I was excited, nervous, scared, and exhilarated.

“You will finish this school year as a sophomore, but after this year, you are going to Johnson!” He was giving me a big smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Johnson.” He shook my hand warmly.

After that day, I worked very hard in Math. I even got my Math average up to a “B.” I finally got on the Honor Roll! I had just needed Mr. Wilkerson’s help.

I finished Sophomore Year with a 3.98 Grade Point Average. On the last day of school, I said goodbye to a lot of students, faculty, and staff. They knew I had been accepted at Johnson.

Over summer break, I began packing for my new life in Jacksonville. My mom came in while I was packing and said, “You know, Darryl, I’m going to miss you.” She had tears in her eyes.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you too,” I said. She wrapped me up in a big hug. I was going to be leaving on Monday, in two days. I hugged her back and gave her a watery smile.

Two days later, on Monday, June 12th, it was the big Moving Day! My mom had had a big going away for me party yesterday and it was like a big family reunion! (And my three best friends were there too). It was so much fun! We even had a cake that had candles on it and mom told me to make a wish (I wished for good luck in Johnson, just so you know).

It was just like having a birthday party! I obeyed mom and gave mom the first slice. Who else could I give it to besides my mom? No one! There was music and lively conversation. Everybody wished me good luck. The atmosphere was very festive.

Today, mom gathered Julian, Sean, Mario, my cousin Tasha, and me in her Ford SUV. Dad picked up some of my other family members in his Ford Expedition. Mom put my luggage in her trunk. We drove to The Miami International Airport.

At the Airport, everybody came out of either an SUV or an Expedition. My luggage was checked, I gave my ticket, and my ID was checked. Mom asked everyone to pray for me and we stood in a line and prayed for my well-being and for me to be blessed.

We gave thanks that I was going to Jacksonville and asked for protection while on the journey to Jacksonville/Johnson and for protection wheel I was at Johnson/Jacksonville. After praying, everybody hugged me. Mom and dad gave me a LOT of spending money, and as my plane was called, I was overcome with emotion. I began to cry.

Sean, Mario, and Julian were hugged me, Tasha gave me a kiss on the cheek, and mom hugged me after my friends did. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and told me she loved me. Dad playfully rubbed my head, looked at me with proud eyes, and told me he loved me.

I pushed the “begrudger” thought in the back of my mind. Then mom gave me one last hug and said she loved me too. Everybody said, “Goodbye for now, Darryl.” I began to walk backwards towards my gate. I blew them all kisses and mouthed, “I love you all,” and waved goodbye. They waved goodbye back.

I soon boarded the plane. The plane was a big American Airlines 747 Jet. I had a window seat, and I put my carry on luggage on the top rack compartment. I was shocked when I saw who my partner was.

The boy looked just like my partner from the Ride Of Doom dream! I did a shocked double take. Actually, he looked a LOT like that boy! If I didn’t know any better, I would say that WAS him! I kept staring at him. He noticed me staring.

”Um, hi,” he said, sounding a little upset. I knew what lied in his greeting. Why the hell is he staring at me like that?

“I’m sorry. You look just like someone I’ve seen before, “I said simply. I was not about to tell him I saw someone who looked exactly like him in my dreams. That would freak him out. Imagine me saying, “Hi! I’ve seen you in my dreams!” And imagine him saying, “Airline Security! Get me away from this loony bin!”

“I’m Darryl,” I said amicably.

“I’m Johnny,” he said softly. Johnny was a fair-skinned boy with chestnut brown short wavy hair. He looked to be 115 pounds and about 5’6.

“So, how old are you?” I asked him.

“I’m 13. How old are you?” He asked back.

“I’m 16,” I answered him.

“I’m going to Tallahassee,” Johnny told me. “I’m going to see my grandma,” he said smiling.

“I’m going to Jacksonville to go to Marshall Johnson,” I said.

“What’s a Marshall Johnson?” Johnny asked me, furrowing his brow.

“It’s a prep school,” I answered him.

“Oh, cool,” Johnny said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “So, are you going to spend your summer with grandma?” I asked him.

“Yeah. She’s the coolest grandma ever! She’s totally awesome!” Johnny said, his whole face beaming.

“I see you love Grandma a lot, I said wryly, giving him a little smile.

“Yeah.”

The “Seatbelts” signal went on and we buckled our seatbelts. Then the plane took off. The turbulence was like a loud whooshing in my ears. I wished I had brought some gum to chew.

After takeoff, the plane flew smoothly. Johnny was an amicable kid (meaning he talked a LOT), but he was an entertaining kid.

“So, Darryl, what kind of video games to you play?” Johnny asked me.

“I play Mario Brothers,” I answered him.

“I like to play Sonic,” he answered, but MB is cool too.”

“Is Sonic that blue thing that looks like a porcupine?” I asked.

“Sonic is a hedgehog and he is cool. He has super running sneakers. He beats up a bad scientist that so that he can save animals that turn into robots.

“I thought that all Sonic did was run around,” I said, impressed. “He’s a hero.”

“Yeah, he is,” Johnny agreed.

Johnny took out a handheld Gameboy Advance and played Sonic The Hedgehog. Oh my goodness, that Hedgehog could run! Johnny wasn’t lying!

Sonic could zoom straight through “Acts” at a breakneck speed, but that wasn’t recommended, as Sonic had to dodge fireballs, hit robot animals for points (the “robots” turn into birds when hit), and avoid “squishes” (these “squishes” were obstacles that killed Sonic if Sonic didn’t maneuver through them correctly.

Johnny asked me if I would like to play. I said, “Sure.” Johnny handed me the game console. I super-ran through The Marble Zone (not straight through it though. I played the game correctly). At the end of the Marble Zone, I got to meet Dr. Robotnik, a power mad evil scientist. I tried to jump on him, but that wasn’t working, because he wasn’t dying. He put flames on the ground, and I tried once again to kill him by jumping on him, but I fell into the flames and died.

I got two more chances, and tried to kill Dr. Robotnik both of those times, but died both times, and then Game Over appeared on the screen. Did “Game Over” mean to start all over from scratch? From Act One? 9Dr. Robotnik is in Act Three). I hoped not. The SEGA Logo appeared and I knew it meant to start over from scratch.

Johnny looked at me and then at the game. “Don’t worry. I have a bag full of new batteries.” He showed me a bag full of about 10 more batteries. “You can play until you get to Jacksonville,” he offered graciously.

Play Sonic until I got to Jacksonville? I repeated in my mind . No thank you.

Out loud I said, “I really don’t feel like playing Sonic anymore. (The game is a trip). You can get 80 rings, and then one robot animal touches you, and you lose them all. Rings are your protection for life. Instead of losing them one by one as each animal touches you, you lose them all. Rings are easy to get, but easy to lose. 100 rings give you an extra life. And it’s near impossible to beat Dr. Robotnik at the end of Act 3.

“Okay,” Johnny said. He turned off the power. Then he kept yakking about video games. After a while, he yakked himself to sleep.

As he slept, I reminisced about Robin. When I was 14, my mother married a man named Robin. My stepfather was abusive to me. He would grab me and shake me violently, and then give me powerful blows to my head. He would pick me up and body slam me onto our wooden floor.

He once gave me a black eye. He would act like the perfect stepfather and husband around my mother, hugging me only when she was around and would tell us that he was glad to have me as a stepson. When my mother was not around, evil, maniac,psycho Robin came out and would really lay it on me. I was scared of robin, but I knew my mother loved Robin and called him the man of her dreams, so I suffered in silence.

I would visible tense whenever I was around Robin and would be totally uncomfortable. My mother just thought that I was shy around Robin. Then, one day, Robin gave me a black eye. I put on black sunglasses and went to my room. My mother later came into my room, and I quickly turned away from her, covering the side of my face with my hand.

“Darryl, what’s wrong? Why are you wearing your sunglasses at night? You are not Corey Hart.” She noticed I kept looking away from her. I didn’t want her to see my black eye.

“Look at me,” she demanded softly, but firmly. I turned in her direction. With the sunglasses on, she couldn’t see my black eye.

“Now, take off the sunglasses.”

“Um, I can’t. It’s for a Science experiment,” I lied.

“Science experiment?” She questioned suspiciously.

“Yeah,” I continued to lie.

I knew she didn’t believe me. She knew I was lying.

“What happens in the experiment?” she asked me with narrowed eyes.

“We have to see if the Ozone layer affects us while we are wearing sunglasses.”

“Ozone Layer? Yeah sure,” she replied, unconvinced.

I knew it was a crappy lie, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She took off my sunglasses. “No!” I screamed in protest. She gasped, very shocked. “What happened to your eye?” She screamed, demandingly.

“I uh. I uh,”……. walked into a door, and it gave me a black eye,” I lied.

“Who did this to you?” You did NOT walk into a door!” She demanded.

“I told you, I walked into a door,” I lied desperately.

“You liar! Someone’s been beating you up!” she screamed, frantically.

“No! No one’s been beating me up!” I lied, even more desperately.

“Robin! Come here! Look at Darryl’s eye! Someone gave him a black eye!” She screamed, sounding really upset.

Robin came in. “Oh my gosh Darryl!” What happened to your eye?” he asked, doing a real good job of pretending to be shocked.

He should have won the Oscar.

I glared at him when mom was not looking.

“Darryl says he walked into a door, but I think someone’s been beating him up,” she said, sounding panicked.

It’s true; I walked into a door, “I insisted, knowing I was really telling a bold-faced lie.

“Stop lying, Darryl! She yelled. “Stop lying! Stop protecting whoever’s hurting you!’ She soon collapsed into tears. It hurt me to see my mother cry, but I couldn’t tell her about precious Robin.

Robin put a comforting arm around her. “I’ll give Darryl some ice and frozen meat to put on the eye,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she said, still sobbing.

Robin put ice and frozen meat on my eye. He’s a really good actor, I thought as he treated my black eye (that he caused)

Karen: As alluded to I stopped bothering to read this drivel, it is truly juvenile, poorly written, poorly conceived and not at all interesting.

You might as well translate it into Sanskrit for all the good it will do you.

Does a tree make a noise when it falls if nobody hears it?

After that, Robin and mom left. I wrote a “story” about my abusive stepfather. I wrote, “There was a boy named Larry (Larry is “Darryl” without the “D” and rearranged letters, he had a stepfather named Bob (If Robert can have Bob as a nickname, couldn’t Robin also, because of the “Rob” ), and a mother named Andie (My mother’s name is Sandra, and I decided to say “Andie” because “Sandy” is the nickname for Sandra, and I dropped the “S” to make Andy, then put “Andie” to make it feminine. The names I chose took creative thought. It is common assumption that “Larry” is the nickname for Lawrence, Bob the nickname for Robert, and Andie the nickname for Andrea or Aundrea.

In the story, I wrote that Bob used Larry as a punchbag, but Andie had no idea. She didn’t see the fear in Larry’s eyes when Bob was around. She didn’t pay attention to Larry locking his room door when Bob was home. Andie thought everything was A-Ok. Then she found Larry on their driveway one day, bleeding from his mouth and gasping to breathe. She rushed him to the ER, he was treated, and then he told the truth about precious Bob. (I was thinking of the possibility of Robin doing something really fatal to me when I wrote that part.) Andie quickly found out that Bob was beating up Larry when she secretly spied on them. She immediately divorced Bob, and Larry and Andie’s relationship got even stronger.

I quickly put my story in my folder and put it in one of my drawers and went to bed.

When I awoke, my mother was in my room. “Robin told me what he did to you. He confessed that he’s been abusing you for months,” she said, looking at me with pained eyes.

“Yeah. He has been abusing me. He’s the one who gave me the black eye, “I confirmed.

My mother looked at me intently. “I made that up. Robin said he didn’t know where you got that black eye,” she said softly.

“Oh.” I said. I realized I had just spilled the beans.

“I figured Robin had been abusing you,” she said. She told me she had found my story, read it, and found it strange how similar the names sounded to Robin, Darryl, and Sandra. She confronted Robin, he confessed and they got their marriage annulled. I was so happy to be free of him, but sad that mom’s love turned out to be such a jerk. I tried to console her by saying she would find another man, one who was better than Robin, but she said she didn’t need any consoling, but thanked me.

Back to the present. Johnny had woken up and was once again yakking about video games. He yakked for 30 more minutes, and then I said that I was going to sleep. I did for about 30 minutes. When I awoke, the captain was saying that we were passing over Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida! I looked out of the window and looked down at Disneyworld! It was great! I wished Johnny could see it to, but in order for him to see it too, we would have to get permission from the stewardess. I asked the stewardess if we could switch seats, and she agreed. We did, and Johnny’s face lit up as he watched Disneyworld and other Orlando attractions such as Sea World and Universal Studios! After we passed Orlando, we got permission to switch back and Johnny was happy. His whole face beamed! “That was cool!” Johnny said, excited!

“I was glad Johnny was happy, even though I myself missed out. Johnny began to yak about Orlando attractions for another long while, and then we ate lunch. We had bread, butter, baked potatoes, mixed vegetables, pork chops, and apple juice. After lunch, Johnny and I both read Choose Your Own Adventure! (Books where you choose your own outcomes).

The plane arrived in Jacksonville, Florida a couple of hours later. After landing, I got my luggage and said bye to Johnny. “Good luck with Grandma,” I said. “Good luck with Johnson,” he said back. I asked for Johnny’s number (I had received a 1000 Anytime Cell Phone by my mother at the airport in MIA.) Johnny gave it to me. I put it in my pocket, and we both said goodbye. I went into Jacksonville Airport. There were so many people bustling around. It was great. I called for a cab to take me to 12450 S.W. Great Street. That would be my new home. I looked around Jacksonville. It was all new to me, but it was also the same. Jacksonville really didn’t look much different than Miami.

After the cab dropped me off at Johnson, I paid the fare and stood in front of Johnson for the first time. Johnson was a big estate. The main building was a brick building with three stories. I walked into the building.

Inside the building, there was a student tour guide who welcomed me.

“Hey, young man! How are you doing? You are walking in the finest institution in Jacksonville! He said, eagerly with a big smile.

“Hi,” I answered him. Hey Skippy, I thought in my mind. He looked like a “Skippy” to me. Preppy, perky, and eager.

He asked me if I wanted a tour of the school. I said, “Sure,” “Skippy” led me around the school. “Johnson was founded in 1898,” he told me proudly. “It’s been here for 107 years.

I gasped in sheer amazement. “That’s great,” I said impressed. I actually can’t wait to start school here,” I said, smiling eagerly too.

He smiled at me, and said, I agree with you,”

We went to a lecture hall. “Here is where students spend their time to do free stud,” he said. He took me to the dining hall, the gymnasium, the main classes hallways, the dorms, the auditorium, swimming pools, tennis courts, and golf courses. After the tour, he said, “I forgot to properly introduce myself. I’m Max Cartwright. I’m 18 years old and one of the Student Tour Guide s and one of the dorm parents. You probably figured out some of that last part.” He chuckled. He really seemed like a nice person. “What’s your name?” He asked me.

“My name is Darryl Johnson,” I answered.

“You’re a Johnson?” he repeated with raised eyebrows. “You could try to “play” a joke on fellow students and say you are a descendant of Marshall Johnson,” he suggested.

Skippy, I mean Max, must have been smoking something if he believed anybody would fall for me being a descendant of M. Johnson. M. Johnson was White. I was African-American. Anyway, I did like Max. He was very friendly.

Skippy (Max) was a 6 foot, lean guy, with pink skin, and with short blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing Johnson’s uniform: Tan pants with a white shirt and tan tweed jacket, with black penny loafers. Each student was provided with 5 outfits.

I thanked Max, said goodbye, and then went to my dorm (Max had given me my dorm key). My dorm was dorm 309 in Alexander Hall. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I gasped! The dorm looked just like a four-star hotel suite! It was amazing! There were two beds, which I knew meant that I would be having a dorm mate. I put my luggage on the bed and emptied its contents. I began to pack the drawers with my clothes. There was a Zenith TV in the dorm, a Dell Computer with internet access, and a bookshelf with lots of Literature books such as Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, Pride and Prejudice, and Sense and Sensibility both by Jane Austen.

I had just settled myself on a bed when the dorm opened. I looked to see who would be my new dorm mate.

He walked in, carrying two luggage suitcases. He was tall, about 6’3, lean, and had short brown hair. His skin color was pink. He looked up (he had been looking down at his luggage), and smiled a welcoming smile when he saw me. I saw that he had chocolate-brown eyes.

“Hi,” I’m Dave,” he said, offering me a handshake.

I accepted it and said, “Hi. I’m Darryl.”

After we shook hands, Dave went to his bed and sat/leaned on it. “So, are you nervous about school?” He asked me.

“A little nervous,” I confessed. Tomorrow would be the first day of school.

“Well, I’m a returning student, and I can tell you, this school is not so bad. You’ll be fine,” Dave said. He gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks.” I smiled back at him.

“No problem,” Dave said back to me. I already liked this school. Dave and Skippy were so welcoming. I liked them.

Dave unpacked his suitcases and put away his things into his own drawers. After he was done, he asked me about my life.

“So, how did you get here?”

“I got here on a scholarship,” I answered him.

“How did you get that?”

“My mom wanted me to apply for a scholarship, so she told me to apply for one.”

“Oh. Did you get the scholarship right away?”

“I found out I got it after a little over a week.”

“How did you feel when you got the scholarship?”

Some people would have been put off by Dave’s questions and would have thought that Dave was a nosy busybody. But I liked Dave and didn’t mind. I just laughed and answered, “I felt happy.”

“How do you like Johnson so far?” Dave asked.

“I like it. The tour guide is so nice,” I answered.

“You mean Max?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Yeah, he is really nice. He’s one of the sweetest guys around, “Dave said, looking really sentimental.

I suddenly wondered if the two of them had a thing together.

“Are you and Max……….um?” I didn’t want to ask directly, though.

Dave said, “Oh no. We don’t like each other that way. I just admire his sweet nature.”

“Oh,” I said.

Dave left the dorm. I soon fell asleep. Dave woke me up at 7:20. “Come on, get up! It’s time to get ready for school! Here is your uniform.” He gave me a uniform outfit (they looked like the ones Skippy had on yesterday).

“Thank you Dave” I said, thanking him for the uniforms and for waking me up.

“You’re welcome,” Dave answered me.

I sleepily made my way to the bathroom. (Every dorm had its own bathroom). The bathroom was white with a long counter with a sink in the middle of it. There were two towels, one was blue, and the other one was orange.

“Dave, which towel is yours?” I asked.

“The orange one,” he answered.

Dave came into the bathroom without knocking.

“Dave! I admonished him. “You can’t come in without knocking first! I could have been doing………….things.”

“Sorry,” he said. He left, closing the door. Then he knocked.

“Come in,” I said, laughing.

He opened the door and came in.

“I just wanted to tell you where everything was,” Dave said. “The Crest toothpaste is in the top drawer. That’s yours. The blue unopened toothbrush in the same drawer is yours too. My toothbrush is Complete Care. The pink toothbrush is mine. Those two are in the middle draw.”

“We can’t share toothbrushes?” I cracked.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing my Complete Care with you, but you wouldn’t like to share my toothbrush. I have tons of plaque and tartar build-up,” Dave said, smiling.

I asked Dave to look away as I undressed to take a shower. He did.

I went into the shower and closed the curtain. I told Dave he could look anywhere he wanted to now. The shower was really a shower and not a shower/bathtub. The showerhead had 5 different spa settings. I luxuriously showered. I washed with the Dove Bar that was in the soap dish. The water felt so good, and the soap smelled so good that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to shower for a LONG time. I was in the shower for at least 30 minutes before Dave said, “Darryl! Class starts at 8:30. Do you know it’s 8:05? You’re gonna be late!”

I finished the shower and rushed out. I quickly wiped, put on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and put on my uniform. I quickly brushed my hair, packed my bookbag, put on lotion, and then put on deodorant.

Dave said, “You’re too late to eat “real” breakfast in the dining hall, so here’s a Nutrigrain Bar.” He handed me an Apple Cinnamon Bar (the green colored wrapper). I gratefully accepted it, ate it, and then Dave and I walked to Marshall Johnson school.

I looked at my schedule. My first class would be Intro to Psychology. Dave and I only had two classes together. We said, “Goodbye.”

I walked into Room 101, in the first building. When I went inside, I saw that the seats looked just like the ones from North Miami Senior High. The seats had wooden tops, with a chair attached to the top. Under the seats, you could put books in a little tray. I sat in the third aisle, third row.

Our professor (here they were professors, in N.M. they had been teachers), was a tall balding man with horn-rimmed glasses, pink skin, and a bit of a gut. His eyes were gray.

I looked at the clock. It was 8:31. Other students began filing in. A boy with close cropped brown hair walked in. Another boy with curly red hair came in. Another boy with stringy black hair came in. Another boy with spiky blond hair walked in. More boys came in. A total of 15 boys (including me) were in this class.

Where are there only boys in this class? Where are the babes? You may be wondering. This is an all-boys school. It’s also a predominantly White school. There are only a handful of Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, and Middle-Eastern students here. And when I say handful, I mean like 5 minority students of each minority.

In my psych class, we read about Jeffrey Dahmer, the guy who raped people (mostly guys), tortured and then killed them, and then ate their (dead) bodies. Eew, eew, eew. Gives a new meaning to the term “Loves to eat.” Nasty! Then we had to talk about how J.D. made us feel.

“It’s disgusting,” I said. I wanted to throw up.

“It’s abominable,” Rick Small said.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Jorge Lopez said. “We’re rid of a person like that.”

“What was wrong with his mind?” Milton Wakeman asked.

Professor Watson answered, “He obviously had a chemical brain imbalance.”

“I think I’m going to have nightmare for weeks,” Rodney Kelly said, shuddering.

Other students murmured disapproving sayings too. After the class was over, it was time for my Remedial Math. (Even though I had gotten a “B” last year in the final semester, North Miami staff still told Johnson I needed Remedial Math. In Remedial Math, there were 10 students (including me). Our professor was a man who looked about 60 years old, but had a full head of hair. (All of my professors are White, so I don’t have to explain their skin colors). He had blue eyes and was about 5’12.

In Remedial Math, we did basic fractions. I really don’t like Math THAT much, so I really will sum up my first class: You have to do the reciprocal of the fractions you see in order to start working on them. (Reciprocal means flip it around).

After R.M, there was Western Philosophy. We had to talk about Socrates, the Philosopher. I’m thinking, “That’s that Greek guy, right?” In my middle school, Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Wright had discussed Socrates with us, but that was over three years ago. I hadn’t really kept in “touch” with Socrates since then.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

“I like it. The tour guide is so nice,” I answered.

“You mean Max?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Yeah, he is really nice. He’s one of the sweetest guys around, “Dave said, looking really sentimental.

I suddenly wondered if the two of them had a thing together.

“Are you and Max……….um?” I didn’t want to ask directly, though.

Dave said, “Oh no. We don’t like each other that way. I just admire his sweet nature.”

“Oh,” I said.

---

Tasha, not even the gayest of the gay would talk like this. Aside from the fact that all the characters in your stories eventually are revealed to be gay, it doesn't hurt to make all these fags talk like normal people sometimes. Here's how I would rewrite these lines:

“I like it. The dude who gave the tour was cool,” I answered.

“You mean Max?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Yeah, he cool." Dave said.

I suddenly wondered if the two of them had a thing together, but I knew better than to start bringing up gay shit on my first day at school. I didn't want to get bullied for being a fag so early.

“Cool.” I said.

I kept my mouth shut and let the others discuss him. The discussion was interesting and I listened with ears wide open. Then Professor Bryan asked why I wasn’t participating in the discussion. I answered, “I barely know Socrates. We used to talk about him when I was in the 8th grade, but I haven’t thought of him too much since that grade.” I told the truth.

Professor Bryan said, “Now, that’s an honest answer, but I want you to do a report on Socrates to get to “know” him better.”

“Oh, man,” I grumbled. A report on my first day.

“It’s due a week from today,” Professor Bryan said.

“Okay,” I said. My first homework assignment from Johnson! (I HAD to do well in this school because scholarships are only kept for students doing well in schools).

The class talked more about Socrates, and then class was over, and it was lunch time. I went into the dining hall. The dining hall looked like a banquet hall. There were flowers in vases and beautiful Formica long tables. The food was like a buffet.

There were fried chicken, white rice, potato salad, mixed vegetables, bread, butter, and beverage choices such as fruit punch, whole milk, 2 percent milk, 1 percent milk, and skim milk, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Orange Minute Maid soda, and Evian water. We were served on China plates and had silverware for utensils. I chose fried chicken, potato salad, bread and butter, and some fruit punch.

I saw Dave and sat next to him. He smiled at me.

“Hey, Champ. How’s the first day of school treating you?” Dace asked.

“It’s fine,” I replied.

“Good.” Dave smiled.

Skippy came up to us.

“Hi, Darryl. He Dave,” Skippy said to us smiling.

“Hey Max,” Dave said smiling.

‘Hey,” I said back to Skippy.

Skippy had his own plate of food. He sat down next to me. We all began to eat our food. The food was delicious. It tasted like a chef, not a cook, cooked these delicious foods. (Being in a boarding school, I wondered if a chef did cook these foods).

We all chatted about the school, and soon, lunch was over. Dave and I had the next class together, Botanical Science. We sat down next to each other. Our professor this time only looked like he was only about 28. He was lean, muscular, and tall. (I know, about everyone in this school had brown hair). He kind of looked like a younger Bob Saget (Danny from Full House).

Our first Botanical Science class was about the original scientific names for flowers and plants. We did that for the whole class.

After class, it was time for my History class. For my History class, we studied World War 2. We studied the Holocaust. I shuddered when I read that babies were being thrown into fires under the command of the heinous Adolf Hitler. A.H. was just mean and nasty! I don’t even want to go into detail about him! Nasty man!

After that class, I had Advanced English. We had to proofread college essays from Jacksonville College. After proofreading those essays, we had to proofread essays from the University of Florida. After that, class was over.

I went to my sixth class of the day, Drama. We learned the basics of acting, such as keeping your tone steady while doing diction (speaking). We did a few diction lessons, and then class was over. (Oh yeah, Dave is in this class too).

My final period of the day was French. We learned a few basic words (or reviewed them) such as “hello” is bon-jour, goodnight is bon-nuit (I figured bon-nuit was “goodnight” when I read a book that had a character calling a French restaurant, asking for her parents, and then says, ‘Bon-nuit” and hangs up the phone when she finds out that they have already left). We learned that “Thank you” was merci, Thank you very much is Merci bon coup, please is Sil Vous Plait, and a few other words.

After French class was over, Dave and I walked back to our dorms together. We both decided to just relax for a little while, so we lied down on our beds, just looking and feeling lazy. Soon we were chatting about school again and how we liked our first day.

“I have never had 7 periods in one day!” I exclaimed. “I used to have six periods a day in middle school, and I had 3 blocks a day in my old high school,” I continued.

“That’s how it is here,” Dave said, smiling. “You might as well work a full-time job.

I took out my cellphone from my pocket and called my mother. My phone has a camera in it. She gave me 1000 minutes and told me to use it sparingly (but 1000 minutes is only about 17 hours). I had already used an hour talking to her since I left the MIA airport. I had spoken to her on the plane, when I first arrived in Jacksonville, when I had arrived at Johnson, before I went to sleep last night, right before I went to my first class, and during lunch. Now I was going to speak to her again.

“Hi, mom,” I said when she picked up.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said warmly. “How was your first day?”

“Mom, it was good. I already told you how the first half of my day was, and I also told you the classes I took for the first half of the day. The second half of the day is Botanical Science, History, Drama, and French.”

“7 classes in one day? Woo,” she exclaimed. “Are you sure you can handle that?” she asked me.

“Mom, I used to take 6 classes a day, remember?” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I know, but this is a private school. The work is much harder,” she pointed out.

“Mom, you are right,” I agreed with her. ‘I already have to do a report on Socrates,” I mildly lamented.

“That’s exciting.” She said wryly.

“I know,” I replied wryly too. “I can’t wait for the fun to begin,” I said sarcastically.

“I have to go to work, Darryl. Bye. I love you,” she said, and gave me a kiss over the phone. “Bye, I love you too,” I said, and gave her a kiss back. We hung up.

I had 7 books to NOT lug around (I had a “rollie” bookbag, so I didn’t have to carry 7 books on my back. I began to thumb through my books, trying to prepare for the next day’s lessons. After a few minutes, I got bored, so I closed the books and watched some T.V. Dave was quietly doing his studies. (I would go back to studying later).

I watched Moesha. It was the episode where she wanted to buy her own car and Frank said, ‘If you want to buy a car, you have to limbo under this price,” and she said, with an uneasy look on her face, “That’s a low bar.” Then I watched a TRL rerun. After TRL, I began to study again. I studied for an hour. Then, I figured I had studied enough for the first day, and began to leave the dorm.

“Where are you going?” Dave asked.

“I’m going to walk around the campus to get some fresh air,” I said.

“Okay,” Dave said.

I left. I walked around the campus, and stopped at the student hangout, student Life (outside). Inside is where student planning and events are held. Outside is where students “chill.” I went to a bench and sat there for a while, musing about Jacksonville and Johnson.

It was so different here. Here, everyone wore tan uniforms. In North Miami high, the closest thing anyone wore to tan was Khaki, and in North Miami high, students didn’t wear any uniforms. In North Miami high there were less than 300 white students (I mean, Caucasian), in a student population of over 3,000.

In North Miami, we were protected from the cold of winter most of the time due to being a tropical climate..Don’t get me wrong, though. Sometimes North Miami’s temperature drops as low as the 30’s. But usually the lowest the degrees go are between 40-63. Sometimes, it is 80 degrees in December!

I sat for a few more minutes, and then I got up and walked back to my dorm. I entered the dorm and called Johnny.

“Hi, Darryl,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I answered. “How’s Grandma?”

“She’s fine,” Johnny answered me.

“So, how ya doing?” I asked.

“I’m fine too,” Johnny answered me.

Johnny and I chatted for a few more minutes, and then we hung up. Then I called Sean.

“Hey, what’s up, G?” I asked Sean. “How’s it going in north Miami?”

“It’s fine. We miss ya, G,” Sean answered me.

“I miss ya’ll too,” I replied. “Doin’ anymore “earnin?” I asked him.

“Yeah. We got $900.00 yesterday,” Sean replied. “How’s it goin’ at Johnson?” he asked me.

It’s straight,” I replied.

Sean asked, “They ain’t workin’ ya too hard?”

“No,” I replied.

Sean said, “Good for ya.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then we hung up. I called Julian and we chatted for a few minutes, and then hung up. Then I called Mario. Julian, Mario, and I had basically chatted about the same things Sean and I had chatted about.

Soon, it was dinner time. Dave and I went to the dining hall. We had Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust Pepperoni Pizza, corn, and drank strawberry soda, and then went back to the dorm. I took a bath and changed for bed. I called my mom again, and basically told her goodnight. I went to sleep, and when I awoke it was time to get ready for school.

Dave and I got ready for school. A brief run through of my second day: I did a lot more homework the second day of school, and ended up with 7 hours of homework. For lunch, I had turkey and wild rice, and drank Coke. After school, I decided to buckle down and work straight for a few hours, break, and then start again.

Since we come home before 5, I started at 5 and worked until 8, then Dave and I ate lobster, scalloped potatoes, and drank some grape juice until 8:35 in the dining hall, we came back to the dorm about 8:41, I called my mother at 8:45 and spoke to her until 9:00, and took a bath until 9:25. 9:30-1:30, I finished my homework, and went to sleep around 2:00. (It takes me a while to fall asleep).

When I awoke, it was 7:30. I quickly woke up Dave, and took a 15 minute shower. I brushed my teeth, dressed, and brushed my hair. It was about 7:55 when Dave came rushing in. He quickly showered, brushed his teeth and hair, and dressed too.

We both finished getting ready and Dave smiled at me and said, “Nutrigrain Bar?” I replied with a smile, “Nutrigrain Bar?” We both ate Nutrigrain Bars and RAN to campus. We made it at the campus at 8:25. It took about 3 minutes to get to my class and about 4 minutes to get to Dave’s class.

More work for the third day. The reason I am not really going into detail about my actual classes is because I want to get to the parts that happen OUTSIDE of classes. I already walked you through the first day of classes, and that’s the only day I’ll walk you through.

I was doing my report on Socrates in the school library (the library, believe it or not, has tons of books on Socrates). I had gathered books and had taken notes on him to type into our computer at the dorm, when I saw two brown-haired, brown-eyed guys sneering at me.

I was thinking, “What’s their problem?” I looked away from them and continued to write names on my paper. When I had gathered enough info for my report, I walked out of the library, and started walking through Johnson’s front hall. As I was walking, I saw the Sneery guys.

“Go home Nig.”(That word that we black don’t like white people to call us, but I’ll only write the first 3 letters of that word. I will tell you that it ends like this: ger) Sneery Left said.

“Go back where you came from, Nig,” Sneery right said.

Did they just call me a “Nig?” I thought, seeing red. I wanted to fu both of them up (that “fu” word ends in a “ck”) How dare they call me a “Nig”?

The Sneerys left. I was so angry, I just yelled obscenities. Here is an edited spelling of what I said. (You can pretty much figure out the missing letters for yourself). “Oh fu this shi! Those fuing, fuing, fuing, shi-fuing bitchfuers, motherfuers!”

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

My final period of the day was French. We learned a few basic words (or reviewed them) such as “hello” is bon-jour, goodnight is bon-nuit (I figured bon-nuit was “goodnight” when I read a book that had a character calling a French restaurant, asking for her parents, and then says, ‘Bon-nuit” and hangs up the phone when she finds out that they have already left). We learned that “Thank you” was merci, Thank you very much is Merci bon coup, please is Sil Vous Plait, and a few other words.

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Merci beaucoup for the French lessons. I'm surprised Darryl doesn't already know a lot of French since he used to go to a Miami public school filled with Haitians. Maybe he should test out of introductory French and ask to transfer to the introductory Latin course.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

I know, it did sound ridiculous. “My mom just made me apply for a scholarship to ANY prep school. Do you know if prep schools teach remedial Math?" I asked him.

“They should," Mr. Smith answered. “When I was growing up, they did."

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I know you're not a fan of reality checks, but prep schools do not admit kids who need remedial math unless they are full-pay kids whose rich parents are donors. Scholarship kids are not rich kids, they are held to a higher standard, therefore remedial math Darryl ain't getting no scholarship to no prep school. From what you've written so far, Darryl is a high schooler who struggles with elementary school level math. I believe the French expression for this is "Ce garçon est un idiot attardé."

Quote:

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Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

I know, it did sound ridiculous. “My mom just made me apply for a scholarship to ANY prep school. Do you know if prep schools teach remedial Math?" I asked him.

“They should," Mr. Smith answered. “When I was growing up, they did."

---

I know you're not a fan of reality checks, but prep schools do not admit kids who need remedial math unless they are full-pay kids whose rich parents are donors. Scholarship kids are not rich kids, they are held to a higher standard, therefore remedial math Darryl ain't getting no scholarship to no prep school. From what you've written so far, Darryl is a high schooler who struggles with elementary school level math. I believe the French expression for this is "Ce garçon est un idiot attardé."

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Darryl was a straight A Student besides Math. :) Darryl got his Math to a B Average. :) Elite boarding schools would love to have a straight A)B student. :)

The dean came by. “Son, is there any particular reason you are using profanities?” He asked me gently.

‘I’m just mad about something,” I answered. I didn’t want to talk about it yet. “Well, please, do not use profanities. If you have any issues, you can talk to the counselor, George Green,” dean riley said gently.

“Thanks, Dean Riley,” I answered.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, and left.

I went back to the dorm. I was sure my thoughts were showing on my face. (They sometimes do).

Dave asked me what had happened. “Dave, two guys called me a Nig,” I said, fuming, almost exploding. I wanted to choke those guys (are at least pimp slap them). “I feel awful. I want to beat the shi out of those guys.” I was visibly shaking.

Dave put his arm around me. “It’s okay, Darryl, it’s okay,” he said, trying to comfort me. I looked at Dave. Dave was really a good friend, even though I hadn’t known even known him for five days.

“Dave, thanks, “I said.

“You’re welcome,” Dave replied.

I called my mom. “Mom, these two guys called me a Nig. They told me to go home.” My voice was breaking. I was really affected by this. I needed to speak to my mom. She was my rock. I could tell her anything.

“Honey, I’m sorry that happened to you. I know words hurt,” she said gently.

“Mom, I feel awful,” I confessed. “I want to beat them up.”

“Don’t beat them up. You don’t want to get expelled from a great school like Johnson for fighting,” Mom said.

“But mom, they degraded me. I want to get even with them,” I said.

“Remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said? ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’,” mom reminded me.

Mom was right, and I do always try to heed that quote, but I had trouble heeding that quote.

“Mom, Eleanor was never called a “Nig””, I reasoned.

“Nig is just a word. They are the ignorant ones for calling you that,” Mom said.

“Mom, were you ever called a “Nig””? I asked softly.

Mom paused for a while. Finally, she spoke. “Yes. I was called a nig before,” she answered me softly.

“And how did you feel?” I asked her softly.

“I wanted to kick those White kids’ asses. My own mother, your grandma, told me that violence was not the answer. She told me if I fought those White kids, I would just be giving them the satisfaction of seeing that they had me in the palm of their hands. So I didn’t beat them up. I put them in their place by acting like I couldn’t care about them less. They stopped harassing me,” Mom recalled.

“Thanks mom,” I said, feeling better. “You’re welcome,” she answered. We both said, “I love you,” and “Goodbye,” and then hung up.

I was still mad about them calling me a nig, even though I was going to heed my mom’s advice.

Dave asked me if I wanted chocolate-chip cookies to make me feel better. I said, “Sure,” and he went into our minifridge and pulled out 4 Nestle Tollhouse “Ready” cookies. He popped them into the microwave and when they were ready, we both got two cookies.

The cookies were so delicious, moist, and warm that I savored every bit of my first cookie. Dave watched me closely, while eating his own first cookie.

“Darryl, I am sorry that you were called a Nig. I would never call you a nig.”

“Thanks, Dave”, I said. I wondered something. “Dave, have you ever called someone a nig?

Dave paused before answering me. He looked hesitant, reluctant, regretful, and embarrassed. “Yes,” he admitted finally, and very softly, looking at me sheepishly.

“When did you?” I asked. “And why?” I also asked, not with hostility, trying to get him to know I wasn’t mad at him, I just wanted to know.

“When I was little, about 9 or 10, I thought that Nig a good word to call Blacks.” He blushed. “I didn’t mean it offensively. I called black people Nig because I heard them calling each other that all the time. I also heard White people calling them Nig too. I thought that Nig was an okay word for a White person to call Black people” He laughed self-depreciatively. I went up to blacks saying, “Hey Nig!” He laughed self-depreciatively again.

I was perplexed when they would give me angry scowls, and I would have a big question mark in my expression. Wasn’t Nig a good word to call Black people? Why were they angry with me? I had questioned in my mind. When an 11-year-old boy kicked me in my shins after I said, “Hi, Nig”, to him, I ran home crying to my mom.

I asked, “Mama, what’s a nig?” with my lip trembling.

“Why? Did you hear that somewhere? “She had asked me.

“I called Black people that word, and they got mad at me. Someone even kicked me in my shin when I called him that,” I had answered her. My mom said, “That’s a VERY bad word! Black people hate that word when White people call them that! Don’t you dare ever call another Black person that!” She was so adamant and vehement, I was scared. But she still hadn’t told me what it meant.

“Mama, what does it MEAN?” I emphasized.

“It means, ‘We White people are better than you Black people. You Blacks are ignorant and stupid. You are like dirt to us. We are superior to you Black people.’ “Is that what you meant when you called them Nigs? “ She asked me, trying to get me to see the point.

“No. I thought that Nig was a good word,” I had answered her.

“Why did you think that?” She asked calmer now.

“I heard Black people calling each other that, and I heard White people calling them that too,” I answered.

“Blacks can call each other Nigs, because when they say it to each other, that’s just their way of communicating with each other. When a White person calls them Nig, that’s usually said in a degrading term.,” she told me. Did the Black people like it when the White people called them that?” she asked me.

“I never paid any attention to the Black peoples’ reactions to the White people calling them that,” I confessed sheepishly.

“Now that you know you are not supposed to call Black people that, will you still call them that?” She asked me, staring at me hard.

“No, mama, no. I will never call Black people that again!” I promised her, and I still haven’t called Black people Nig to this day,” Dave concluded.

I (Darryl) felt better after Dave told me his story. I even laughed while he told me his story. “Thank you Dave for telling me that story,” I said with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Dave replied. “Just pretend that the guys who called you a Nig just didn’t know any better, like what happened to me,” he advised me.

“No, I can’t “pretend””, I said, my expression turning serious again. “They really meant it. They sneered at me, Dave. They SNEERED,” I repeated again for emphasis.

Dave said, “Those guys are idiots. They didn’t know you. They just saw a skin color. You’re a great guy Darryl, and you are also very smart.”

I thanked him again, and he said, “No problem.” I did some homework, and Dave and I went to the dining hall again. As we were eating our chicken fingers, fries, and drank orange soda, I saw the Sneerys again.

I asked Dave if we could sit somewhere else. He asked me why, and I answered, “It’s too cold under here.”

We moved to another table, FAR away from the Snerrys. Dave and I finished our meal, and began to leave the dining hall. All of a sudden, the Sneerys stepped in front of us.

“Hey, Dave, you like Cookies and Cream?” Sneery Left asked.

“Hey, Dave, you got Jungle Fever?” Sneery Right asked.

“You like mixing your chocolate with your vanilla?” Sneery Left asked.

“You like the color gray?” Sneery Left asked.

“Leave us alone,” Dave said. I could tell he was feeling harassed.

“We already told your friend to go home, “Sneery Left said.

“And he’s still here,” Sneery Right said.

They were talking about me as if I wasn’t even there.

“Let’s go,” I said, pulling Dave’s arm.

Sneery Left said to me, “No, you didn’t want to “go” home when we told you to “go” earlier, so now you are going to “stay”. He said this, glaring at me menacingly.

He was scaring me.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

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Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

I know, it did sound ridiculous. “My mom just made me apply for a scholarship to ANY prep school. Do you know if prep schools teach remedial Math?" I asked him.

“They should," Mr. Smith answered. “When I was growing up, they did."

---

I know you're not a fan of reality checks, but prep schools do not admit kids who need remedial math unless they are full-pay kids whose rich parents are donors. Scholarship kids are not rich kids, they are held to a higher standard, therefore remedial math Darryl ain't getting no scholarship to no prep school. From what you've written so far, Darryl is a high schooler who struggles with elementary school level math. I believe the French expression for this is "Ce garçon est un idiot attardé."

---

Darryl was a straight A Student besides Math. :) Darryl got his Math to a B Average. :) Elite boarding schools would love to have a straight A)B student. :)

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Elite boarding schools receive far more applications than they have spots, therefore they can be very selective and only admit the best students, which makes them elite. :)

A high schooler who is getting a B in remedial math (elementary school math) and A's in everything else simply can't compete with students who are getting A's in all subjects including age-appropriate math. So, this story is pure fantasy. You might as well call it Hogwarts.

Why not change it so that Darryl is actually very advanced in mathematics? That would be much more realistic. Also, this side plot about Darryl being a super dummy in math is not very interesting anyway. It would be much more interesting if he were a math genius from the ghetto. Like Goodwill Hunting or something.

SNORE....

Quote:

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Originally Posted by MisterV

Karen: As alluded to I stopped bothering to read this drivel, it is truly juvenile, poorly written, poorly conceived and not at all interesting.

You might as well translate it into Sanskrit for all the good it will do you.

Does a tree make a noise when it falls if nobody hears it?

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And to this Tasha says “Mission Accomplished,” :)

You can’t mock what you can’t read.

Okay, okay, I'll CONFESS! The reason that Darryl is taking Remedial classes in Math is because I was taking Remedial Math classes myself when I was in High School! ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

Okay, okay, I'll CONFESS! The reason that Darryl is taking Remedial classes in Math is because I was taking Remedial Math classes myself when I was in High School! ;)

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Oh wait...that has possibilities...

____________________________________________

"Mammie, I and I is offs ta school, wishes me lucks on my maff test."

"Chile, you caint tell time let 'lone do long division, how you gonna pass a test?"

"I cheats, mammie. 'Dere is 'dis girl from my class, her pappy left her one day in de car at de casino, she be's my casino frien' now and she be very good in maff an' lets me looks a' her answers an' copies dem."

Mammie took a deep pull of Fireball while watching her step daughter head out.

"Lord amighty, but dat girl is dumb as a box o' rocks; at least she learning good cheatin' skills, 'dat'll hold her in good stead when she grows up."

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tasha

Okay, okay, I'll CONFESS! The reason that Darryl is taking Remedial classes in Math is because I was taking Remedial Math classes myself when I was in High School! ;)

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I had an inkling.

“Dave, remember if you stay friends with this Nig, you won’t get into the “Club” and we will tell everyone about your little “Trip”. Remember the heavy sweats, the shaking, and the fixes?” Sneery Right asked. Sneery Left nodded his head, giving Dave an evil smile. “I remember clearly. And I don’t mind telling Dave’s family what happened.”

“Leave me alone,” Dave said again. “And leave Darryl alone.”

“Darryl? This little Nig’s name is Darryl?” Sneery Left replied. “I thought his name was Kunta Kinte.” He laughed nastily.

I tried to leave again, but Sneery Right grabbed my arm. Hard. His fingers dug into my skin. “You don’t belong here. Go back to the projects. Go back to your welfare ghetto. You’re just a little Nig. Your parents must have begged the government to get you here. This institution takes pity on you little Nigs, he said softly, but menancingly.

“Please,” I begged softly. Why wasn’t anyone helping Dave and I? I looked around, and some students looked reluctant to help Dave and me. Other students just plain ignored us. They must have not wanted any trouble. The Sneerys obviously were a threat not to be reckoned with.

“I don’t want any trouble, “I told Sneery right.

“If you didn’t want any trouble, you would have left when we told you too. Now that you’re here, you’re gonna get what you asked for,” Sneery right told me ominously.

“Please,” I said again. Tears began to run down my face. I cried because I was scared. What would they do to me? To Dave?

Dave said, “Darryl’s not asking for trouble. He just wants his education. Just let him be.” Dave looked at the Sneerys pleadingly.

The Sneerys laughed cruelly. “His welfare school wasn’t giving him an “education”? Sneery Right asked/said, mockingly.

North Miami was the “projects/” NMSH was a “welfare” school? North Miami was one of the most blessed areas in all of Miami, with a low crime rate. NMSH was the envy of a lot of school is Miami.

Sneery Left said, “Johnson is for us Rich, White, Boys. And this Nig is only one of the three. He was smiling evilly.

Sneery Right still had his hand on me. Sneery Left had been holding Dave’s arm. The Sneerys both looked at us very intimidatingly, as if they wanted to beat us up. Sneery Right spit in my face. “That’s a moisturizer for your ashy face,” he told me, cruelly. Then Sneery Left said, “You missed a spot”, let go of Dave, and spit in my face too.

“That’s extra moisturizer for you,” he said, evilly too. Then, Sneery Left pushed Dave backwards so hard that he fell backwards on his back. Sneery left walked over to Dave menancingly, and I could see the fear in Dave’s eyes.

“Please. We’ve never harmed you,” Dave said, shaking. “We’ve done nothing to hurt you,” he continued, begging. Sneery Left kicked him in the side. “That’s for hanging out with a Nig. If you dumped him, you wouldn’t be going through this now.” He roughly picked up Dave and gave him a closed first punch in the jaw. Dave yelped in pain.

On the other hand, Sneery Right let go of my arm and beat my head with powerful blows. Then he kicked me in my stomach, and as I bowled over from the pain, Sneery Right kicked me in my leg, and I fell. I was getting the shi beat out of me. As I lay down on the floor, Sneery Right kicked me again in my other leg.

“Please stop,” I begged him. “I already told you, I don’t want any trouble.”

Sneery Right laughed evilly, then picked me up, and pushed me roughly into Dave.

“Sorry to interrupt your “fun” with Dave,” Sneery Right apologized to Sneery left.

“No problem,” Sneery left answered. He dragged Dave away from me and continued his pummeling on Dave.

“Please,” Dave begged again. He sounded weak and frail.

“I’ll stop beating you up when you stop being his friend,” Sneery Left said. He punched Dave in the jaw again.

“Please,” Dave begged again, shaking. “Please.”

“Oh you don’t want to stop being his friend,” Sneery Left said, and punched Dave in the gut.

“Just stop. Please,” Dave begged again, shakily.

“Call him a Nig and then you can go. I’ll stop beating you up,” Sneery Left negotiated.

Dave looked at me. I could see tortured pain in his eyes. He really didn’t want to be beat anymore, but he promised his mom and me that he would never call me or any other Black person that word.

“Say it!” Sneery Left said. He whacked Dave upside his head.

“Ni….Ni….” Dave said, shaking. I knew he was really tortured.

“The whole word!” Sneery Left barked. He punched Dave in the gut again.

“Ni…….” Dave said weakly.

“The word is Nig-Ger!”” with each syllable, Sneery Left roughly punched Dave in the face.

“I don’t want to call him that,” Dave said, shakily. He didn’t look to strong.

“Then you WANT to be beat up like a rag doll,” Sneery left said. He picked up an empty chair and cracked it over Dave’s head. Then he slammed Dave’s head into a table.

“Noooooooo!” I screamed, watching Dave suffer.

“Shut up!” Sneery Right yelled at me and roughly put his arm around me neck and began to strangle me.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Nig,” he told me raspily. I began to make gagging noises. Sneery Right removed his arm and did DDT on me. (That’s a wrestling move). He picked me up into the air. “Please no,” I begged, knowing what he had in mind. He was going to drop me onto the floor. “Please don’t do it,” I begged.

He put me above his head and dropped me onto the floor. The floor rose to meet me and I blacked out after the searing pain. When I came to, I was still lying on the floor. I got up and looked for Dave. Dave was on the floor, next to me. Dave’s laboring was heavy and his eyes were closed. I hoped he was okay.

This story is very disturbing, but also thought provoking and full of twists and turns. I can't believe Dave decided to take a beating rather than call Darryl a slur. To get back at these bullies, Darryl should write one of their names on his remedial math homework. That way the teachers will think one of the bullies is retarded in math.

Wait, wait, are the two bullies who call Darryl names actually Boz and V?? ;) ;) :eek: Are you going to have a side plot where these two bullies poop on the floor of the dining hall and blame it on Darryl?

I called a school nurse to look at him. I was worried. I had fallen on my face. Dave was lying on his back, which meant he had been dropped on the back of his head. The nurse asked, “What happened to you guys?”

“I…I…,” I started. “We fainted,” I concluded, lying. The nurse looked at us suspiciously, but said he’d be right back. He left us for five minutes, and then came back. He had smelling salts and put them under Dave’s nose. Dave came to.

“Where am I?” Dave asked, sounding groggy. He blinked, looking confused. His breathing was still labored.

“You’re on the dining hall floor,” the nurse answered. “Can you tell me what happened?” He looked at me suspiciously again.

“We fainted,” Dave said.

Amazing! He couldn’t have known what I had said just a moment before.

The nurse gave Dave an oxygen mask, and in a few minutes, he was breathing normally. The nurse took off the mask and he checked both of our “okayness”. We responded fine to his questions.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s 10:15.” He said.

“10:15?” I exclaimed. “We need to get back to the dorm!”

The nurse said, “It’s dangerous walking back to the dorm at this time of night. I’ll walk you back.”

Dave and I agreed, and we all left the dining hall. The nurse escorted us back to the dorm, and I took out my key and opened the door.

“Thanks, Nurse,” Dave and I both said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. Dave and I went in, and Dave closed the door.

“I can’t believe what happened,” Dave said.

“I know, it’s like a bad dream,” I concurred. I looked at him in awe. “You didn’t even give up when you had the choice too.”

“I wasn’t going to call you a Nig. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t call you that,” he said, looking sheepish.

“What about the Ni…Ni…”? I asked him, wondering.

“I wasn’t going to call you a Nig. I was hoping they would be satisfied with just the first syllable, but they weren’t.” He smiled ruefully.

I remembered something. What about the “club” and the other thing? “What’s this about a “club” and sweating? And what are “fixes?” I asked him.

Dave suddenly looked unwilling to talk. He gave me a “closed” look. I knew he really didn’t want to talk about what they were.

“Darryl, don’t you want to go to sleep?” He asked me in a kind of begging tone.

“No, not yet,” I answered him. “What were those guys talking about?” I asked him again.

“Nothing. They were talking about nothing.” Dave gave me a nervous look. I knew he was hiding something.

“Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends,” I coaxed him.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” Dave looked at me imploringly, like he wanted to know he could trust me.

“Yes,” I promise,” I promised.

Dave took a deep breath. The “Club” is an exclusive fraternity. Phi Beta Alpha. It’s really great. Once you get into it, you become a BMOC.”

“What’s a BMOC?” I asked.

“Big Man On Campus,” Dave answered. “I’ve always wanted to join PBA. I’ve always wanted to become a “brother”,” Dave continued.

“Hey, I’m a “brother”, I said, jokingly. The joke was that all Black guys are considered “brothers”.

Dave tried to smile, but I could tell he was more interested in telling me about PBA than in the joke. He continued. “If I get into PBA, do you know how good that will look on my college applications?” He smiled a real smile this time. “Some colleges like fraternities. If I get into PBA, I will get more respect.

The Student Body would respect me a lot. I would go to a lot of parties, instead of staying home alone on Fridays and Saturdays.” He looked at his nails. I could tell he was sad about spending Fridays and Saturdays alone. But hey!

“You have me. I’ll be home on Fridays and Saturdays,” I told him.

“True, Dave agreed, “but you just got here. Before you came, this dorm was a single,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, understanding.

“And even with you being here, staying home on these days is still considered spending it alone.

“Dave, you could visit other dorms on those nights,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s not much fun when most people are asleep at night,” Dave lamented.

“Oh,” I said again.

“PBA is the best fraternity on Johnson. There are others, but nothing touches this one. But, I do have something to confess.” His face had been bright when he talked about how great PBA was, but it became dark when he went to the “confess” part.

“What?” I replied.

“The Wonder Boys are both head of the PBA. The wonderful guys who beat us up earlier,” he answered, looking upset.

“I had no idea,” I said softly. “And you still want to join the PBA?” I asked him, perplexed.

“Yeah. I know, it’s pathetic,” Dave answered. “That’s why they told me if I didn’t drop you as a friend; I wouldn’t get into the club. They know how much I want to be in the PBA. They know how great I think it is,” Dave continued.

“People like that run the PBA?” I answered, astonished.

“Yeah. The way they rush people is horrendous. The pledges have to steal test answers for them and do their homework for them. The pledges have to walk around campus in their underwear for a full school day, and sometimes they have to steal professors’ belongings to get into the club.

“So, you would have to do that too?” I asked him.

“Actually, I’m pre-pledge. They are only THINKING of rushing me for PBA. So, right now, I’m in a good place,” he answered, smiling.

“What about the “sweaty” part?” I asked him.

Dave looked at me nervously again.

“Come on, tell me. You can tell me,” I coaxed him again.

“I used to be a drug addict,” he said softly, looking reluctant. “I was on cocaine. I tried it once at a regular party, not a Frat party, after someone offered me a little. “I thought, ‘What the hell? It’s only a little cocaine. It’ll be harmless." I took it, and was instantly hooked.

I LIKED the cocaine and loved the high I got off from it. It was such a rush! I soon was snorting cocaine 20 times a day. I was skipping classes to snort cocaine. I couldn’t stop, and I LIKED not being able to stop. I was using money my folks gave me to buy cocaine.

I had a drug dealer that would come to this school, and we would make the exchange. When my money ran out, I soon began stealing money from other students to buy cocaine. I was always shaking and sweating when I couldn’t have my fix.

After the fix, I would start convulsing, because Darryl, cocaine makes you convulse. But I did stop sweating. When Dean Riley found a trace of cocaine on my book bag, he demanded I seek rehab. I said, “I don’t have a problem! I’m not a cocaine addict! I’ve never even taken cocaine in my life! That’s not my cocaine!”

‘He let me go for a few days, but soon found me snorting cocaine He watched me as I finished with my “fix” and confronted me.

“Dean Riley,” I had said in surprise. I knew I was busted, but I wasn’t going down without a little lying. “It’s not what you think. It’s not cocaine, it’s baby powder,” I had lied. I soon began to convulse.

Dean Riley searched my book bag and my dorm and found five more bags of cocaine.

“So, all of this is Baby Powder, huh?’ He said wryly, obviously not believing me.

I had looked at the floor. “So, am I going to jail?’ I had asked him.

“No, we’re going to take you to Rehab,” Dean Riley told me.

“No! I need the cocaine!” I yelled. I lunged for the cocaine but missed and ended up on the floor. “Dean Riley, I can’t live without the cocaine!” I said. “I need it! I need it!” I yelled again, and got up. “I want it!” I yelled. I looked like a madman. My eyes were wild and I was doing this wild, wild, dance. “Give it to me!” I yelled again. I began to burst into tears because of my addiction.

Dean Riley gently wiped my tears and threw away the bags of cocaine into Johnson's garbage chute. I actually tried to go into the garbage chute to get my “fixes”, back, but Dean Riley gently stopped me.

“You have a problem, son,” he told me gently. “You need help.” He threw put me in Rehab, and I was there for two weeks. The withdrawal symptoms were murder. I couldn’t get my fixes, I was sweating and shaking, and my brain had gotten so used to the cocaine that it wanted more. My body started to go through pain, because I was going through drug withdrawal.

I was sweating my bed sheets so much that it looked like I had wet the bed. A counselor talked to me about how much better my life would be without the cocaine. When I had been detoxed, I felt good and made a vow that I would not use cocaine anymore. A full year later, I am still cocaine free. “He gave me a big smile.

“That was only a year ago?” I asked him, shocked.

“Yeah. And my family doesn’t know. The Wonder Boys threatened to tell them about my addiction and Rehab if I continued to be your friend,” he answered.

“Wow,” I answered. “Thanks for sharing your story with me,” I told him.

Wow! Tasha, as you've mentioned, many things in this Darryl story are autobiographical, which is a fancy term for the author writing about her own life. Did you also used to be addicted to cocaine in high school?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Wow! Tasha, as you've mentioned, many things in this Darryl story are autobiographical, which is a fancy term for the author writing about her own life. Did you also used to be addicted to cocaine in high school?

---

I was never a Cocaine Addict. My Sister was a Cocaine Addict however and she died as a cause of her Cocaine Addiction . Let's just say, her drug dealer is in prison and she is in the ground. :(

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Wow! Tasha, as you've mentioned, many things in this Darryl story are autobiographical, which is a fancy term for the author writing about her own life. Did you also used to be addicted to cocaine in high school?

---

I was never a Cocaine Addict. My Sister was a Cocaine Addict however and she died as a cause of her Cocaine Addiction . Let's just say, her drug dealer is in prison and she is in the ground. :(

---

I'm very sad to hear that you lost your sister. Glad you have avoided that path.

Why did you bury her?

Cremation is cheaper, and then there is a new movement to simply do it the old way...not quite dig a hole and throw the body in, but kinda close.

It's supposed to be more "natural."

per google...

Burial without a coffin can be referred to as natural burial, green burial, or shroud burial. These terms emphasize the environmentally conscious approach of placing the body directly into the ground, often without embalming or using a non-biodegradable container. Natural burial typically involves using a biodegradable container or shroud, or placing the body directly into the ground.


How'd sis die of coke? OD? Shot in a drug deal gone bad?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

Why did you bury her?

Cremation is cheaper, and then there is a new movement to simply do it the old way...not quite dig a hole and throw the body in, but kinda close.

It's supposed to be more "natural."

per google...

Burial without a coffin can be referred to as natural burial, green burial, or shroud burial. These terms emphasize the environmentally conscious approach of placing the body directly into the ground, often without embalming or using a non-biodegradable container. Natural burial typically involves using a biodegradable container or shroud, or placing the body directly into the ground.


How'd sis die of coke? OD? Shot in a drug deal gone bad?

---

Drug Dealer strangled her to death. :(

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Wow! Tasha, as you've mentioned, many things in this Darryl story are autobiographical, which is a fancy term for the author writing about her own life. Did you also used to be addicted to cocaine in high school?

---

I was never a Cocaine Addict. My Sister was a Cocaine Addict however and she died as a cause of her Cocaine Addiction . Let's just say, her drug dealer is in prison and she is in the ground. :(

---

I'm very sad to hear that you lost your sister. Glad you have avoided that path.

---

Thank you for your condolences.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

Why did you bury her?

Cremation is cheaper, and then there is a new movement to simply do it the old way...not quite dig a hole and throw the body in, but kinda close.

It's supposed to be more "natural."

per google...

Burial without a coffin can be referred to as natural burial, green burial, or shroud burial. These terms emphasize the environmentally conscious approach of placing the body directly into the ground, often without embalming or using a non-biodegradable container. Natural burial typically involves using a biodegradable container or shroud, or placing the body directly into the ground.


How'd sis die of coke? OD? Shot in a drug deal gone bad?

---

Drug Dealer strangled her to death. :(

---

God that's awful. I'm really sorry Tasha. I hope her killer is living in misery every day.

You could write a compelling narrative about it, but change the names of the parties to protect the innocent.

You know, like they did on Dragnet.

Maybe reintroduce the cops from Dragnet, Sgt. Joe Friday and officer Frank Smith.

Sure; have them craving each other but never consummating their desire due to hide bound religious beliefs.

Yes, skewer them on the horns of a dilemma.

“You have anything you want to tell me?” He asked me, looking curious.

“Yes. I used to mug people, rob stores, rob houses, and steal cars with my friends back home,” I confessed. Somehow, I felt I could talk to Dave about anything.

“I won’t tell anyone what you told me,” Dave said, and I believed him.

“When my mom found out, she went ballistic. She told me I’d better get a scholarship to boarding school or go to boot camp. Guess which one I chose?” I smiled at him.

“Boarding school?” Dave said, laughing.

“Yep,” I answered.

“How’d your mom find out?” Dave asked me.

“She began asking me where I got all this money I had had on me. I kept telling her that I found it on the ground. How many times does the same person find money on the floor? And she saw caught me driving a stolen car and confronted me and I had confessed I stole the car, and I ended up telling her that I didn’t find the money on the ground, but that I stole it,” I confessed to Dave.

“Wow.” Dave said.

“I know,” I replied to Dave.

Dave said, “Look at this: In this dorm, an ex-crack addict, and an ex-robber. “He smiled. For some reason, Dave’s funny imposition was contagious, and I found myself in a very humorous mood. I grinned broadly. I was in a good mood.

“You know, it is getting late,” I said.

“I’m feeling a little tired myself,” Dave concurred.

We changed into our nightclothes and I turned off our light. Dave and I told each other goodnight and we both climbed into our beds.

As I lay in bed, I reminisced about something. You know, today was not my first taste of racism. I had my first taste of racism when I was six years old. And surprisingly, it was not the White people who were racist towards me. It was other Black people. Many people believe that Black people are safe from racism from other Black people, that Black people aren’t racist towards other Black people, but that was not the case in my situation.

I was in Elementary School, trying to play with other Black kids who had Milk Chocolate skin colors and Dark Chocolate skin colors. The MC looked like the outside of Twix Bars, and the DC looked like Hershey’s Special Dark. I asked if I could play with them, and they told me no.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because, you are too light too play with us. You are not very brown,” one girl told me.

A boy told me, “If you were browner like us, you could play with us.”

So because I was a “caramel”, they didn’t want to play with me. If I were a Brownie (Twix Bar) or a Blackie (Special Dark), I would have been able to play with them. I decided I didn’t like the Brownies and the Blackies. They treated me badly because I was too light to play with them.

But for some reason, the Whities let me play with them (You should know what a “Whitie” was). They didn’t show me racism, and I liked them a lot. The Reddies (Red-Skinners, like my mom’s color), Mixies (People who were both Black and White), the Spanies (Hispanics), Asianies (You should know what an Asianie was too), and the other Goldies (people with my skin color) also always let me play with them. I once went home to my mother and said, “I don’t like Brownies and Blackies!” They are so mean! They never let me play with them!”

Mammie couldn't sleep: it wasn't the sound of rats in the walls, it was that old conundrum, that hoary chestnut which had tormented her since her Advanced Calculus class.

Sweat poured down her wrinkled brow; gulps of Fireball barely deadened her manic brain.

As was oft her wont she drifted into herself, oblivious to the world, her mind operating like a super computer, seeking the answer to the one question which has tormented her: Do any odd perfect numbers exist?

to be continued...or not

First, we determine who's asking the question.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

As was oft her wont she drifted into herself, o6liMrV=5ious to the world, her mind operatin6 like a super computer, seekin6 the answer to the one question which has tormented her:

---

---> The Faith of Christopher Hitchens: The Restless Soul of the World's Most Notorious Atheist.

https://anagram-solver.net/Aswasofth...r?partial=true


Then, the answer.

Quote:

---

D = 32 ⋅ 72 ⋅ 112 ⋅ 132 ⋅ 22021 = (3⋅1001)2 ⋅ (22⋅1001 − 1) = 198585576189 would be an odd perfect number if only 22021 (= 19^2 ⋅ 61) were a prime number. The odd numbers with this property (they would be perfect if one of their composite factors were prime) are the Descartes numbers.

---

Means that 22020 = (-1 + 19^2 *61) ---> 222 = 1/1961, and, so, there wouldn't be the Great Garnabby stuff, in particular the TOE, were there any odd perfect numerals. Now would there? Ha.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tasha

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

Why did you bury her?

Cremation is cheaper, and then there is a new movement to simply do it the old way...not quite dig a hole and throw the body in, but kinda close.

It's supposed to be more "natural."

per google...

Burial without a coffin can be referred to as natural burial, green burial, or shroud burial. These terms emphasize the environmentally conscious approach of placing the body directly into the ground, often without embalming or using a non-biodegradable container. Natural burial typically involves using a biodegradable container or shroud, or placing the body directly into the ground.


How'd sis die of coke? OD? Shot in a drug deal gone bad?

---

Drug Dealer strangled her to death. :(

---

God that's awful. I'm really sorry Tasha. I hope her killer is living in misery every day.

---

Thank you. He really permanently snuffed out a bright light in our lives. :(

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Gottlob

First, we determine who's asking the question.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MisterV

As was oft her wont she drifted into herself, o6liMrV=5ious to the world, her mind operatin6 like a super computer, seekin6 the answer to the one question which has tormented her:

---

---> The Faith of Christopher Hitchens: The Restless Soul of the World's Most Notorious Atheist.

https://anagram-solver.net/Aswasofth...r?partial=true


Then, the answer.

Quote:

---

D = 32 ⋅ 72 ⋅ 112 ⋅ 132 ⋅ 22021 = (3⋅1001)2 ⋅ (22⋅1001 − 1) = 198585576189 would be an odd perfect number if only 22021 (= 19^2 ⋅ 61) were a prime number. The odd numbers with this property (they would be perfect if one of their composite factors were prime) are the Descartes numbers.

---

Means that 22020 = (-1 + 19^2 *61) ---> 222 = 1/1961, and, so, there wouldn't be the Great Garnabby stuff, in particular the TOE, were there any odd perfect numerals. Now would there? Ha.

---

Seriously, though, there has to be something very deep going on with the universe, in the form of a TOE, itself, for the numerals to thus work out, with no odd perfect numerals.

I mean, there's no reason that such, or other, shouldn't exist, but, they just don't, which is on the just-is level of the TOE. Same as no extraterrestrial life, no ghosts, no bigfoot, and, so on. (On the level that the digits, and, then, numerals, that we work with are merely part of a much larger set of that is unavailable to us.)

And, oh, there was also a 72 above, as July 2. Ha.

I suddenly didn’t feel like talking about the subject anymore. “So Dave, have you started on your homework yet?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I started,” Dave replied. “Did you finish your report?” He asked me.

“All I have to do is type this onto our computer and I will be done,” I replied.

“Good for you.” Dave said to me.

I went over to the computer and typed up my report, saved every few minutes, and then print. I was done with my report. Soon, it was dinner time. W

We still didn’t want to go into the dining hall. For lunch, we had bought 4 big bags of Chips (2 Lays Original) and 2 Cheetos Original. One was our lunch, and one was our dinner. We took out our Lays and ate “dinner”. Then we ate some cookies we had not eaten the night before for “dessert”.

After that, I called my mother and told her I loved her. I didn’t tell her about my Sneery Attack though. I hadn’t wanted to worry her. She told me she loved me too and was proud of me. We chatted for a few more minutes, I said goodbye, and then hung up.

After finishing our homework, bathing, and changing into our nightclothes, we both went to bed. I fell asleep, but woke up again a long while later. I heard two voices. Dave and Skippy’s.

Skippy said, “I’m so glad we can be together again.”

Dave said, “Me too. I’m glad you’re here, Max.” I heard the unmistakable sound of kissing.

Between kisses, I heard Skippy say, “It’s so hard to keep this a secret. I love you so much, and I have to pretend to just be your dorm parent. I am tired of it.” They kissed again.

Dave said, “I know,” after that kiss. You are one of the greatest things to happen to me.”

Skippy said, “Are you sure your roommate is asleep? If he is awake……………” His voice trailed of.

Dave said, “Darryl? He sleeps straight through the night. I don’t think he’ll hear us.”

“You sure?” Max asked uncertainly. “I can’t take the risk of him knowing about us…………..”

I heard Skippy’s footsteps come closer to my bed. I had been under covers, and I quickly shut my eyes. Just in time. Skippy pulled back my covers. I suppressed a little smile.

“Hello? Hello? Skippy said to me. “Are you awake?” He asked.

I had to hold back my laughter, but I remained still. I heard Dave’s footsteps come up closer to my bed too. I knew he was looking at me too.

“You see?” I told you, he’s sleeping.” Dave sounded like he was right by me. “He sleeps tight, all the time,” Dave said. Just to make sure, Dave said, “Darryl? Are you awake? Can you hear me?” I remained still. Dave said, “He’s asleep.”

Skippy breathed a satisfied sigh, and went back to Dave’s bed. I heard him lie next to Dave.

I heard Dave say, “I love when you hold me like that. It makes me feel so good.”

“I feel good too,” Skippy said. They kissed a long kiss this time, at least two minutes. When they were done, Dave said, “Max, how come you don’t visit me in the dorm often?”

“I don’t visit you often because you have a dorm mate. It would look pretty weird for me to show up out of the blue every day. What would Darryl say?” Max replied.

“You’re e a dorm parent,” Dave [pointed out. “Darryl could just think you were just checking up on your charges.

“Yeah, but it would be pretty strange if he found out I was only visiting this dorm in particular,” Max answered. “He would know something was up.”

“Yeah, but,……….” Dave started.

“Shh……” Max said, and they kissed again for a while. After kissing, Max said, “We can’t let anyone know about us. If they found out, I could lose my job as a dorm parent because dating you is against school policy, you would be scandalized, and I don’t want you to be scandalized.


You know Johnson frowns upon gay affairs. I could also be thrown into prison because I am eighteen, a legal adult, and you are 16, a minor. That’s called Statutory Rape in Florida, and we both know it. “

“I know, but I love you, Max,” Dave said sadly and heart-felt.

“I love you too, sweetie, “he said, but it’s really hard to keep our love under wraps.”

“I know,” Dave said again. “Are you trying to say we are breaking up?” He sounded heart-broken.

“Never!” Skippy said vehemently. “We just have to be careful. You know, I love this job of being the school tour guide and dorm parent. I love the kids at this school. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Dave said, “Don’t worry. I will never spill the beans about us!” He sounded vehement too.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Gottlob

Seriously, though, there has to be something very deep going on with the universe...

---

Of course there is: we've barely scratched the surface.

Wait until the mysteries of dark matter are understood.

Among other things I suspect that may be a key to gravity, but then I'm no physicist, I'm merely talking out of my keyboard.

They kissed for a little while longer. Dave said, “Our love affair is really hard to hide.” He sighed.

Max said, “I know. Let’s just keep it up a while longer. I’ve gotta go now, honey. I’ve gotta go back to my dorm.”

They kissed a long goodnight kiss. I heard Skippy’s footsteps coming towards the door.

“Wait, when will I see you again?” Dave asked, sounding desperate.

“Tomorrow,” Skippy promised. “I’ll see you tomorrow.

“What about Darryl? How will you see me without Darryl seeing us? I don’t want to have to meet like this again, in the middle of the night.

Skippy thought for a while. Darryl‘s a slight problem, but I will come see you tomorrow, while you are supposed to be in your first class. I’ll write your teacher an excuse note and say that your room was so messy that I made you stay and clean it.

Your teacher will believe me because I’ve actually had to make students stay and clean their rooms before they left for school. Johnson prides itself on a clean, tidy environment.

I’ve had to write a few excuse notes before. This won’t look any different from the other notes, except this time, you won’t be cleaning your room; you and I will actually be spending some much needed quality time together.

“Won’t Darryl be suspicious? We always walk to school together,” Dave said.

“Just walk to school with Darryl like you always do, but sneak back to the dorm while he heads back to his class. You guys have different classes, remember?” Skippy answered.

Dave eagerly agreed.

They both said, “Goodbye.”

Skippy left and Dave lied on his bed.

“Max is so sweet,” Dave said to himself. He giggled happily to himself. I could tell Dave really liked Skippy. You see? I knew they were gay! Remember when Dave got all happy-looking when I mentioned Max’s name and I asked him if they were a couple and he said “no?” I knew it! “Max is just a sweet guy” my ass!

Dave said, “It's 4 AM. I’ve gotta get some sleep." In a few minutes, I heard snoring.

I fell asleep too a while later.

Dave woke me up at 7:30. Darryl wake up!” He screamed at me. “Get ready for school!”

I smiled a secret smile at him. “I don’t think I’m going to school today,” I started to lie. “I have a fever,” I continued lying. I wanted to see his reaction.

Dave looked distraught. “Please not now,” he said, sounding upset.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, trying to sound guileless.

“Why did you have to get a fever today?” He sighed.

“I didn’t ask for this fever,” I said, sounding petulant.

Dave sighed and put his hand on my face. “Your skin doesn’t feel as if it has a fever,” he said, thoughtfully. “I’ll give you a thermometer just to check it out. He gave me a thermometer. After a few seconds, the reading was done. “98.6,” Dave said softly. “Normal.” Darn it!

I blushed. “Okay, I don’t really have a fever,” I confessed. “I lied.”

“Why did you lie?” Dave asked me, looking at me intently.

“I just didn’t want to go to school today,” I told him. “Maybe I’ll lie in bed all day. I wanted to see what he would say.

Dave’s eyes held panic in them. “Go to school Darryl!” he said, urgently.

“Why do you want me to go to school so badly?” I asked him.

“I just want you to get your education.” Dave said. (Liar)

“I want to stay home!” I told him petulantly again.

Dave looked really upset. “Please go to school Darryl?” He looked pleadingly into my

A little voice told me, “Just go to school and let Dave and Max have their quality time together. They’re both nice people who love each and just want to spend some time together.”

I sighed. “Okay, I’ll get ready for school.”

Dave smiled. “Are you ready for school yet?” I asked him.

Dave answered, “Yes. I’ve already showered and everything.”

I quickly got ready for school, and Dave and I walked to school.

When we got to my class, I told Dave “bye” and he told me “bye” too, and looked really nervous. I knew he was going back to the dorm to meet Max.

Dave didn’t know this, but I saw him head back in the direction of our dorm.

I went to all of my classes, and did assignments, and then it was lunch time.

At lunch, Dave and I sat across from each other. Skippy came by, and I saw Dave and Skippy smile secretly at each other, then quickly look away and blush. I knew they had spent their quality time together.

Skippy sat down next to Dave and said, “Hi,” to both of us.


“Hi, we both said.

“Dave, what time did you come to class today?” I asked. I knew he had come in late.

“What kind of question is that?” Dave replied. “I came to school with you, remember?”

I had worded that in a suspicious way.

“Oh yeah,” I told him softly. ‘I forgot.

Dave said, “Well, actually, I came in late.” He said this in a confessional tone. “I forgot to do finish my homework, and I went back to the dorm to finish it.” Liar! I thought.

“How long did it take?” I asked him.

“I came to first period about 9:20,” Dave said.

Max said, “It’s true. I remember seeing him going back to the dorm and I asked him what he was doing. He told me about the homework, and I wrote him an excuse letter. He’s such a loyal student. He put his arm around Dave’s shoulder and smiled at him. Dave looked content.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to give Dave an excuse letter for that? Couldn’t you be fired for giving Dave special notes?”

“Why would I be fired for helping my charge out?” Max looked confused. He removed his arm.

“Yes, your charge,” I said, emphatically. “Couldn’t you be fired for giving one charge special attention?”

Max suddenly looked troubled. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Even Dave looked troubled. We finished up lunch, and I went back to my classes, and did more work.

After school, I went to the dorm, and Dave and I did some homework. After a while, Dave went to the bathroom. I noticed something sticking out from under Dave’s bed. I quietly but quickly went to it and took it out. It was a picture of Skippy smiling. I put it back and noticed something else under Dave's bed.


I took it out too. It was a love card, from Skippy to Dave. It read on the outside, ‘Thinking of you,” and on the inside, it read, ‘All the time, you really blow my mind!” On the other side was Skippy’s handwritten letter to Dave.

“Dave, we’ve been together for a long time and I hope we’re together for even longer. You are my shining star and I love you. I wouldn’t give you up for anything in the world. Love, Max.”

I quickly put the card back where it was and rushed back to my homework. Dave came out a few seconds later. He continued his homework.