"YOU WANNA CRACK A JOKE?" by Andrew
You could probably write a book about all the things that happened in the Sequoyah Jr. High cafeteria. You can't jam such a large, diverse group of kids in a room together and not expect some chaos.
One of my favorite stories, though, comes from 7th grade, during the time when our little group had half a lunch table to itself. I normally sat at the end, and my closest friends sat on either side of me. Normally that was Darryl and Santiago, who kind of disliked one another. Anyway, one day we were doing our usual thing, talking shit, whatever. Then we started to hear this loud male voice near us...
"Where's my DAMN MILK?", he said. Of course, we all immediately looked in the direction of the voice. Sure, the cafeteria was noisy, but we heard it loud and clear since the guy was so close to us. We saw this big guy, probably a 9th grader, pacing angrily around the back corner of the room.
Then, we heard someone ask, "What's the matter, man?"
The voice, even louder, replied, "MY DAMN MILK!"
Okay, so someone had stolen this guy's milk and he was pissed. We, however, thought this was funny as hell. We laughed, but I guess he was too busy looking for his damn milk to care. Eventually we stopped hearing the guy's voice, and all was well.
Minutes later, the same guy went stomping by us toward the exit door.
"I wonder where he's going now", one of us said.
Santiago, not missing a beat, muttered, "Probably to get his damn milk."
We started to laugh, but then it died down quickly. Santiago was sitting with his back to the door, and didn't see the guy come back in and walk toward our table. He came right up behind Santiago and put his hands on the table on either side of Santiago's lunch tray.
Hovering over his head, breathing down Santiago's neck, the guy said the immortal words:
"You wanna crack a joke? Crack it now."
No, there wasn't a fight. Santiago just practically shit himself and apologized. The rest of the story is fuzzy in my mind, probably because I lost several brain cells laughing my ass off. We all did.
Except poor Santiago. I guess he got nightmares.
"APRIL...COME SHE WILL" by Santiago
Andrew and I were the kings of the Art Club back in Sequoyah, and one of the projects we embarked on was a Stone Mountain Christmas "card" that was taller and wider than your average southern trailer park inhabitant. We killed it, of course, winning second place in the contest....but that has nothing to do with this little anecdote.
One of the guys who hung around us while we embarked on this task was Mitch Allen, resident psycho and comic relief. Mitch was one of those guys that would make you shit your pants laughing at school, but whom you'd never hang out with otherwise. He was headed for Loserville, USA (located right next to Cobb county, I believe...or IS IT Cobb County?), but it was fun to watch him burn out. He said and did things that no one else had the balls to, and we appreciated him for it. So we get this new student named April.
Ah April...... (At this point Santiago takes a shower, flooded by the memories)
What can I say about April? She stood about 5'7, had shoulder length
dyed-red hair, and was a bonafide, guranteed, more-for-your-money,
bang-for-your-buck streetwalking prostitute. So you can imagine mine and
Andrew's reaction when she strolled into the Art room for the first time.
"MOTHER****ER!!!!" I believe was the simultaneous cry.
But I digress.....what follows is a dialogue between Andrew and Mitch on
the subject of our own "Pretty Woman" (don't be mislead here, the girl
looked pretty fucking gnarly) as Andrew videotaped him for my "School Daze"
documentary (a subject we'll probably touch on later):
ANDREW: Hey Mitch, what's that?
MITCH: It's my wallet.
ANDREW: What's in it?
MITCH: 2 dollars.
ANDREW: (scoffs) What can you buy for two dollars around here?
(pause)
MITCH:....April
Okay...so maybe I built that punchline up a little too much, and maybe this story is nothing more than the incoherent ramblings of a retarded 23 year old...But you know what? Screw you! I thought it was funny as hell at the time and I still do. Was it mean? Yes. Was it deserved? Yes. Were we young and stupid? Yes. Was she a whore? You bet your banannas.
We wish you the best, April....wherever you're strutting your stuff. Work that runway, girl!!!
"SYMPOSIUM" by Andrew
In December of '92, when our friendship with Jeff Breen was in its beginning stages, he and Santiago and I went with a group of fellow art students to what they called a "Symposium". It was an annual event that took place at the University of Georgia, which was about an hour drive from where we lived. R.E.M.'s "Automatic" album had just come out, we loved it, and were ready to visit Athens.
They put us up in this place called "The Center For Continuing Education", which was basically a hotel with a huge lobby area. The night before we were to embark on our day of fun and learning, there was much partying going on amongst the students. See, we weren't the only school taking part in this thing. There were kids from all over the place roaming that building. Jeff and Santiago, the chick magnets they were, hooked up with some girls from a West Virginia boarding school. Of course there were three of them, so I had this girl named Anita hanging all over me to even things out. My two buddies were really into Anita's friends, but I could've cared less about this crap. All night, the girls followed us around. I couldn't get rid of mine.
Finally, as the late hours came, we ended up in their room, and it looked like Jeff and Santiago intended on doing some fucking with these girls. After all, we'd never see them again, and all parties were willing. One of them scored some condoms from another student, and it looked like things were going to happen. Needless to say, I quietly slipped out of the room when Anita wasn't looking. I'd just made it into my room when there was a knock at the door. Guess who it was. Yep.
"Hey," she said, "what's the matter?"
I faked like I was incredibly tired, and told her I was going to go to sleep. It didn't make a difference. As I laid down on the bed, she came over and got right beside me.
"Hey," she kept saying, "you can't go to sleep."
I had no idea what Santiago and Jeff were up to with her friends, but I definitely had to say no. Whatever the reasons, I'm sure most of why she was hounding me had to do with her friends getting with mine. I still didn't give in, and faked like I fell asleep. This didn't faze her. Anita began talking loudly, trying to wake me up. Then, she started shaking me. Still, I continued to "sleep".
The next thing I knew, I heard the voices of Jeff and Santiago in the room. This was just about the time Anita started to slap my face and body, desparately trying to wake me. I think she got the hint at that point. She left me alone, and we all went to sleep for real.
The next morning, Jeff and Santiago admitted they didn't screw the girls. However, they thought I was really asleep when they came in and saw Anita slapping me. I'd fooled them.
I've lived in Athens for over 2 years now, and every time I pass by that building, I think of the Symposium. I know they say "a gentleman never tells", but what do they call the thing I did?
THE DARK CRYSTAL vs MS. PETER-EATER" by Santiago Velasquez
Art class in our ninth grade year at Sequoyah was Utopia. It was our
first class, and since Andrew and I ruled the Art Club ("Gee guys, and you
wonder why you didn't get laid...") we were basically free to do and say
whatever we wanted. Ms. Peterman loved us (she still insists that we're
her favorite students of all time), and she was even cool enough to let us
use her tape player to play music on. It was a little pink FM/AM
radio/tape-player, but it did it's job. We listened to bands like Jane's
Addiction, Ice Cube, Mudhoney, Alice in Chains ("Devil music", according to
Peterman), Cypress Hill, Concrete Blonde, and Nirvana for the first time
(and before most of them were processed, wrapped, and spoon-fed to America
by MTV), and the class pretty much accepted us as the morning DJ's for that
period. We played whatever we wanted, and nothing else. Andrew, Mitch,
Nick, Stanley (the last two being some stoners we befriended at the
beginning of the year), and I formed the group of jackals that hung out in
the back corner of the art room. But we were the Kings.
So one day Ms. Peterman decided that she'd had enough of our annoying
"rock" crap and came over with a tape of her own.
"It's MY turn today, boys." She said, gingerly removing our A.I.C.
"Facelift" tape.
The class stopped and turned to witness the desecration that was being
committed. They're jaws were agape. Was this shit really happening?
It was.
Peterman pulled a blank tape of her own out of her pocket and popped it
in, hitting PLAY as she walked away. She hummed to herself as she
cherished her private victory over our crew.
She did NOT know who she was fucking with.
Her tape started playing, and soft new age music started contaminating the
air waves around us. We reacted like vampires to sunlight. There was no
WAY this shit was staying on for a minute longer. But what could we do?
We couldn't just hit STOP, and we couldn't start bitching out loud. Both
would land us in detention. Suddenly, one of us (not sure who), had a
brilliant idea....
...We'd get INTO the music. All the way.
So we all crossed our legs and sat indian style on our art stools, placing our hands palms-up on our knees. The plinking sitars and synthesizers filled our ears like soft waves from an ocean, and we lost ourselves in the sounds of soullessness. A vision came to me: of the opening of THE DARK CRYSTAL, where all the gnarly creatures that looked like big snots called to eachother in a low series of "Ahhhhhhh" sounds that were not only out of tune, but creepy as hell.
I opened my mouth, my eyes shut tight.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...."
I mixed in well with the new age bullshit that pulsed from the pink radio.
Andrew, smiling slightly, joined in at a pitch that was slightly lower.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...."
Then Nick.
Then Mitch.
Then Stanley.
Then the class was pissing itself, laughing.
Them Ms. Peterman came over, face red.
Then her tape came out of the radio.
Then the radio went with her.
We lost the radio for a week or so, but you know what? It was worth it.
No one fucked with us in our own little kingdom. It was all we had in that
wretched little school, and no one was going to take it from us.
And no one ever did.
"IF YOU WERE A WOMAN..." by Andrew
Can you recall the first time you ever heard the word fuck? How about shit? I certainly can't. Those words have just been there always. In your grade school and middle school years is where you pick up on some new, colorful words and phrases. In my case, I was pretty familiar with most bad words when I got to the infamous Sequoyah Jr. High, but I'll freely admit to hearing more than a few unique things in my first year there. This is the story of the first time I heard a certain slang term for the female genitals. Santiago will definitely remember this moment.
And Darryl, wherever you are, thank you for sharing.
It was a day like any other, and our group was sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria. It wasn't uncommon for my friend Darryl Harris to be the center of attention during this time, because he normally said or did something hilarious each day. Sometimes repeatedly. He didn't care what anybody said or thought, he was out to get a laugh at any cost. One day, however, he was uncharacteristically silent. He sat down and ate his food, just like the rest of us, but hardly said a word. I wondered what was going on, so I asked.
That's when Darryl uttered the question. The one million-dollar question. It came out of nowhere, was unprovoked, and just fell out:
"If you were a woman, would you let anybody in your twat?"
That will always remain one of the funniest things I've ever heard anyone say. Ever. Not only had I never heard the word twat before, but the way he said it just made it even funnier. Not surprisingly, nobody else at the table had heard it either.
It set us all off. I particularly recall not being able to breathe for a good long time. When was the last time you laughed like that? I mean the red face, the tears, all of it. I shit you not, we laughed the whole rest of the lunch period. What a stupid word! What a crappy word for anything! For some reason, it had us all rolling. And for weeks afterward too, anytime I even thought of that word, that sentence, I would laugh uncontrollably for several minutes.
I went home from school that day laughing. My dad asked me what was so funny, and I laughed so hard that he even started laughing. When I finally was capable of speech, it took me about five minutes to get that whole sentence out:
"If you were a woman, would you let anybody in your twat?"
My dad didn't get it.
"Twat?", he said, "so what?"