Bowen and I liked to hold contests at school. One was the King Grot competition. The idea was to determine who
could dress the crappiest for a whole week. From Monday through Thursday we were both pretty equally matched: torn shirts, dirty shoes,
muddy pants. On Friday I decided to go all out to beat him. I didn't shower, wash my hair, or brush my teeth. I wore my three-day-old soccer
practice shirt and track pants, and added whatever extra dirt I could think of. When I got to school I looked around for Bowen, confident
I had beaten him. Suddenly he walked up wearing the prettiest shirt, pants, and shoe combination I'd ever seen.
"You win, Marc," was all he said. That was enough. I heard those words in my head the entire day, while I sat in class looking like the world's biggest dirt pile, and Bowen beamed like a million dollars in his new threads.
![]() Mooning was a great sport, even if I only did it once. Nobody ever got hurt. You didn't have to be in shape to play. The fatter you were the more you brought to the window. I'm still not sure why it was such a thrill to make somebody look at our naked butts. Unfortunately, any time you mooned someone, you were also open to retaliation. Yes, it's funny to moon, but it's not so funny if it happens when you're with your mother. Once, when I was in the ninth grade, I remember riding home from gymnastics training with my mum, when I looked over to see a bunch of guys drive past with a pressed ham against the passenger's window. Thank God my mum hadn't worn her good glasses.
The worst arse was possessed by Daniel Hass. His was an arse you just didn't want to look at. Put it this way: Daniel was a hairy guy. You've all been to the zoo. You've seen baboons with the same sort of problem. If a nine-year-old had ever seen Hass he'd have thought, "God, if that ever happens to me, somebody please shoot me." Hass made the most of his gifts. He waited for someone to walk into the swimming change rooms, then he grabbed the overhead pipe, swung up, and wrapped his legs around their neck. We didn't invite Danny to many parties after that.
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