The Eggs of Dementia

For my first day as a high school freshman, my mom drove me to school. Without exchanging too many words besides the normal “good luck” and “don’t be scared” (yeah, right), I clenched my sack lunch hard as I got out of the Jeep Grand Cherokee. My bobos from the Salvation Army hit the curb outside of the building as a cool morning breeze suddenly enveloped me and instilled a slight confidence.

“I can do this.” I thought as I walked toward the double doors of the intimidating two-story building. Naturally, no other kids were paying attention to me; this environment was just as new to me as it was to them, which was as much a bonus as any to me. Besides, I thought, I couldn’t have been the only new kid…

As I walked through the halls I dug around in my pocket for my schedule with information pertaining to my locker, which was my first objective. I always liked to treat small tasks in real life like I was in a Runescape quest. It usually made me feel better about potential failure and making the best of shitty rewards thereafter. Speaking of failure…

I found my locker rather quickly, but it was surrounded by mean looking thugs.

“Excuse me.” I said, I suppose a bit more under my breath than I anticipated, because they didn’t hear me, or so I thought.

“Well, this is a great start.” I thought, deciding to put my hand through the flesh barricade. One of the thugs who were wearing a Hollister shirt stopped me.

“Aye bay bay nerd,” he said, laughing.

“Are you wearing jean shorts?” he inquired. He could clearly see that I was, so why ask?

“What, are you fucking gay?” he continued, gesturing toward his two friends.

“What? No.” I said a bit more firm that I’m used to. I was proud of finally standing up for myself… What I would have liked to do was give them the old Iron Will treatment… maybe spin off a ‘darling’ little catchphrase and fucking pile drive them into the locker, making the fuckers bleed geysers of blood before torturing them but, alas, reality prevailed, which meant…

The bullies didn’t move, so I just gave up and walked to my first hour English class, my eyes going up into my head. I walked into the room and immediately looked for a seat in the back and… nothing, all taken, mostly by sexy girls with very short shorts and guys who were most likely the sexual partners of the sexy girls. Good googly moogly! Some of them looked up at me from their cell phones, their lips fixated like those of a duck and their eyes rolled up into their head. I guess I lost track of my own mind and was staring at their sexiness, as they looked at me like I was creepy (which, to be fair, I suppose I was being).

I grabbed a seat in the second row at the end (total of four), placing my backpack over the chair and my sack lunch at my feet as I scooted forward. It was a matter of about ten minutes as kids began filing into the room, taking their seats by their respective compadres. Eventually, a fellow took the seat to the left of mine. Nothing new there; he was a typical hooligan type with a hoodie that looked like it was randomly splattered with paint.

Our teacher walked in; a young woman, Mrs. Crittenton. Before she even took a breath she scolded me for having my backpack and sack lunch in the classroom. I feebly attempted to explain that I was held up by some fuckers that conducted themselves like they just escaped Alcatraz but this was to no avail. As for the usual classroom protocol, it was very typical, up until she introduced me as the new student…