Half a Dozen Things I Got In Trouble for as a Yute
--Fucking with the stupid announcement board thing once too often.
When I was a junior in high school, one of my many leadership duties was inputting the next day's announcements into this sooper-awesome lite-brite ticker thing (you know, like the one outside the Today Show studios? only cheaper and smaller) that was in the main hallway, every afternoon after school. I was fond of kicking it off with stuff like "GABBA GABBA," or "I am the Lizard King," that kind of stuff. Real clever shit, which sometimes they made me remove, because The Man loves to bring the hammer down on Rebels. Well, they left "Welcome my son, welcome to the machine" alone, but they got really pissed off when I followed the congratulations to the Science Fair winners with "HAA HAAA!" Which I did because everybody hated the frickin Science Fair and NOBODY wanted to keep going with that pain in their ass, waste a Saturday in Fort Worth at the regional competish where they'd just get slaughtered by kids from rich schools whose dads were fucking rocket scientists and helped with their little jet-propulsion projects, etc., and all the kids knew it. But C.B., the teech in charge of corralling me and my juvenile horseshit, saw it, flew into a rage, and busted into the yearbook room on a righteous tear and said "You're off the message board! As of now! How dare you make fun of students who work hard and succeed!" yada yada yada. (This she says to the Original Overachieving Over-Doer, for Shatner's sake, jeez.) So hey, I got my afternoons back ...--Shooting rubber bands, with a wooden rubber band gun that in the dusk probably looked like the real thing, into the open windows of passing cars.
Note to future jokesters: Either don't do this from the front porch of your own house, or make sure you're not shooting your little stupid rubber bands into cop cars. Those guys have NO sense of humor.--Getting my friend's truck stolen in the hairy left armpit of Dallas, Texass.
OK, so this wasn't strictly my fault -- me and my friends D.R. and N.S. went to see Material Issue at the ... I dunno, the What's-It's-Nuts Bowl in Dallas (locals, help me out?). On the way there, we were paced for awhile in the next lane by a guy yankin' it in his car (much disgusted screeeaming ensued), but that's nothing to do with the story. Aanyhoo, we were all dressed up in a very alternative manner (or so we thought), the way teens do and people my age cannot be arsed with; we go to the show, it's fun, and we leave ... but uh-oh, where's the truck? Holy shit, seventeen and stranded in Big D! But hey -- we had friends there, and we managed to find some of them and get a ride home, and at some point there were calls to DR's parents and the police and whatnot, and it was kind of a kickass adventure -- but not to DR's parents. This was the WORST THING THAT HAD EVER HAPPENED, EVER. Even though none of us were hurt, and they GOT the fricking TRUCK back -- granted, it had to be pulled out from the wreckage of the liquor store it had been used to knock over, but it had barely a scratch on it! It was back in service within a week! But because DR's parents thought she'd never have gone to Dallas in the first place if I hadn't instigated it, I was actually in more trouble with them than she was. Her dad told my dad it was, quote, "A dark chapter in [our] lives," unquote, and forever after, though DR and I remained fast friends, I was (and am) permanently on her parents' Double-Dipped Shit List. So of course, whenever I'm back in town, every single time I drive by their house, I LEEEEEEAAAAN on the horn and holler their name ... because I'm a placatin' motherfucker like that, yo.--Riding my bike in the middle of the road.
Me and my friend CD were enroute from my house to hers, via a little-traveled back road, cruising along, shootin the shit; a car passes us on the right; we barely notice. Then my mom appears, like a fire-breathing Ninja, about 10 feet in front of us -- we have to brake hard to avoid running smack into her. Ahh, she'd been visiting my great-grandmother, whose house was about exactly halfway to CD's house, and saw the car thing ... She was (most uncharacteristically) yelling her head off about us riding in the middle of the road, said she's gonna ground me and take my bike, etc. But she let us continue to CD's, where her stepfather bitched us out for like TWO HOURS (thanks for calling ahead, Ma!) and threatened to spank us both. I escaped his corporally-punitive wrath, but indeed, I was bikeless for a week once I get home. Ma Gleemonex don't make no empty threats.--Copying the answers out of the back of the book on a test in third grade math.
Me and my friend H.S. thought we were total geniuses for finding that part of the book, and for putting one over on the teacher, Miss B. Well, Miss B. was not outwitted by a pair of 8-year-olds, so while everybody else was at recess with clean consciences, we got lectured about how disappointed she was in us until we were both just weepy shells of our formerly confident selves. But the whole incident behind us by that afternoon, we got to re-take the test, Miss B. didn't narc us out to our parents, and we got invited to her wedding a couple of years later -- win-win.--Leaving a half-gallon plastic jug of Elmer's Glue-All on the top of my friend's parents' grill.
My friend and I were doing some sort of messy art project, as was our wont, and had been sent out to the patio to do it. We didn't know, but her stepfather had turned on their grill and closed it; somehow, we ended up leaving the damn giant glue bottle on top of the grill hood, and promptly forgot about it and went to play somewhere else. Then there was this ... this BELLOWING ... from the patio. Grumpy-Ass Stepdad demanded we get our butts out there, pronto. And Internets, I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that was one of the funniest fucking things I've ever seen, that bottle all collapsed in weird places, saggy in others, and plastic and glue melted allllll the hell over the grill and the ground below it, with that orange Elmer's cap tilted (melty) right in the middle of the mess. I just about fell to the ground shrieking, tears coming out of my eyes, but my friend (knowing her Grumpy-Ass Stepdad better than I did) started apologizing, swearing we'd clean it up, etc., while he continued to yell at us. I was sent home, she was grounded for two weeks, and still -- twenty-five years later -- that remains one of the funniest fucking things I've ever seen.
Labels: first-world problems, half a dozen awesome, jackassery, that's what your mom said