YEAR FOURTEEN: Other than prison bitch, not much else worse than doing time as a high school freshman.

New situation again. Lutheran High School North. Three or four fellas from Bethel made the trip to Lutheran North with me, and that was it, all strangers. Those Catholic school fuckers need to stop whining. At least Catholics got some entertaining trippy god glitter and voodoo like customs, worshipping the saints and whatnot. Lutherans sprinkle grim bleak austerity granules over their guilt flakes. Having gay priests at least adds some interesting window treatments to stare at while bored out your nipples listening to the gospel. Lutherans think beige is flamboyant.

Got tested the very first week. Chester, gonna call him Chester, was this six foot five life support system for a set of guts. Literally said "Duh huh" every other sentence. He also had a concave spot in his chest. Looked like someone took a large novelty ice cream scoop and made a sternum divet. Lurch didn't even know my name yet. All I heard was a few "duh huh"'s getting progressively louder in my direction.

Fucker shoved me with both hands into my back. Slammed me face first into my open locker. Top lip crushed against the top metal shelf. Tasted blood sifting through my teeth. Righted myself and turned around to see the proud lummox standing there body jerking up and down with guffaws. Self congratulating himself to his two pals on either side.

He was obviously not a very skilled predator. Granted at first glance I looked like a decent target. Careful observation from a veteran bully would have watched my quirky behavior long enough to figure out I was one scant dick hair from crazy.

I had just opened my locker. So, I had my open combination lock dangling from my fingers when he assaulted me. Another lamentable misread on his part. Spun the lock around knuckles and locked it on the front of my fist. He was still in mid chuckle when I swung as hard as I could across his face, my feet leaving the ground to reach. Dropped him like a sack of wheat. Hot blood gushed from his nose. He was screaming, loud. His pals took off. I closed up my locker and headed off to class with my books. He was writhing on his ass trying to shout "He boouuuuk my noooooode".

I could hear upper classmen the next few days with hushed conversations about how I was the crazy ass white boy. Kinda became my monicker. Crazy ass white boy. That was just my name to some people. People would ask "When's the crazy ass white boy gonna get here?". Everyone only knew one crazy ass white boy. Better than business cards.

I more than cemented the nickname sentiment on a free flowing freak basis.

I did attack one other guy with my clarinet. Hey, I might be in the marching band, but I don't play that shit ai'ight. Mark ass bitch shouldn't of been yanking my hang glider collars on my tacky marching band uniform and saying he wanted a kiss. Gave him a reed instrument frenching.

Also at a spirit assembly in the gymnasium before class I acted a fool. Chapel was held every morning before homeroom in the gym. All the teachers and maybe three kids singing a couple hymns. Some brief gospel crap and your god thought of the day. Mumble through a few prayers. Occasionally there would be a school wide event directly after chapel. Like a spirit assembly.

Corny contests and other outmoded rally numbers to get us pumped for routing one of the sports teams on. Was enormous amount of giggles making fun of it from the bleechers. Same bleechers that acted as makeshift pews for chapel. Divided the students up into four sections, one for each class. I was on the top row of the freshman quadrant. Couldn't really tell you what preceded this. Mr. Tirmenstein, the band teacher actually, and organiser of spirit events, was having us compete to see who was the best class. One of the determinators of this was "How many of you are wearing green socks! Stand right up and be counted!". This should really be one of those geek stories in the Onion. I leapt from my perch and shouted crazily, spun around and raised my feet in the air. Pulled down my pants leg and started screaming and pointing at my green socks.

I think Mr. Tirmenstein rigged the whole thing. Didn't give me a tip or anything to make sure I wore green socks that day. Probably saw me all sprawled out in the hallway, cracking jokes, sighted the emerald goodness around my ankles. Knew I was enough of a maniac to flail about and announce to the world exactly how uncool I was, wearing green socks.

Crazy ass white boy.

My other favorite thing to do was to freak out the brothers and sisters. Now I was actually more down than most pasty crackers. I had paid my dues in the ghetto and on breakdancing cardboard squares to not walk around like a mullet wearing Lynard Skynard monkey. Some Black kids didn't even consider me as White. This was another school of mostly Black folk going there. More like sixty - forty split this time. The Black chicks just hated the prissy White girls with their stockings knotted up in their hermetically sealed twats. Whenever one of them would do something hair tossingly, bubbly giggly, pseudo Valley girl like, I would turn to one of them and under my breath, sneer and say "stupid fuckin white people.". Worked everytime. Laughs and more of the crazy ass white boy proclamations.

I also was deep into chronic masturbation by fourteen. Course, a brother had to do his shit on the sly. Not like now, with wild abandon nakie time alone in my own crib. Numerous family and otherwise obstacles erupted up in my punching the clown path.

Christ, I used every trick in the book to skew my view down some chick's cleavage or up her skirt. Oh, and I would sincerly like to officially thank Veronica for hardly ever wearing panties under her acid washed demin mini skirts. You were a major and frequent star in the wankertoons playing on spankervision. The feet stuff started then too, one bent foot, shoe falling off a bare heel, and all the sudden it was getting crowded in my zipper.

Of course, on a dare and wonderful excuse, I walked on in the girl's locker room. Just had to trot on through to the other side and I'd win the bet. Froze in front of the steamy shower room. Shrieks. Frozen solid in my tracks drooling. Girls volleyball coach tackled me, dragged by my ears out into the parking lot. Chants of "Go white boy!". Completely worth the tanning she gave me for the encyclopaedic catalogue of trim available in the young man memory banks for making with the sticky palms. Oh girls, when I think of you, I touch myself. Yowza.