We went to Willowpine junior high, the only school in town that offered free skill training to its disciples, but it was more of a profit making firm. Everything kids built was sold for a good price outside the state and the country. There were only 50 girls at school but it wasn’t too much of a problem to us, we didn’t know what it was to have girls around, we were prepubescent and so were our penises. The road that led to school also led to Achilles’ the neighborhood grocery and book store incase kids needed something to eat or read, it rescued them from hell. I wasn’t much of a student though. I had been on the truant list for over 45 times or in other words I held the undisputed title for ditching the school the most number of times. 9th grade brought fears and doubts in my life, the extra hard work plagued my aptitude or ineptitude depending upon what my father called it, the books gave the impression of fiends and boulders on the roll as if a darkening swarm of moths covering my limited skies. Sometimes I would go to school on my bike, it was an old timer my brother and father rode back in 1940 and 50 and later when they gave up on it, things had finally turned in my favor. It was 20 or 21 years old or so, and it didn’t have any brakes. I had to graze the land so I could stop it ‘I hauled my legs against the ground in struggle to generate some friction with blowing soil all over the place’, which had been pretty much a staunch solution to not having any brakes so long as I didn’t go in to people. Sometimes when the bike was a little extra sped up even my legs failed to do the job, there had been unfortunate events of winding up in people’s lawns, fences, trees and even living rooms. Once I rode into Mrs. Ferguson’s lawn. She jabbed a slap in my face, it left a searing swell under my left eye which took around a week to go away, well almost. -- The Old Elm, been working for quite a while now.
Posted on: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 05:52:19 +0000
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