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Seventh period. Social Studies. Mr. Sherman. Gina, Kelly. Jerry, Brian, Timmy. Hank, Frank, Clarice. A class of epic proportions. Dramatic tension was always inches away from the blazing climax in that room; Clarice and Frank gabbing with a subtle sensuality and false hostility; Gina and Kelly sitting in the same row together; Brian, Jerry and Timmy up to harmless and sardonic shenanigans; and Hank sitting there, sneaking a listen or two to his thumb worn iPod.
“Hope you had a satisfying lunch, ‘cuz you’re going to need it after you expend your life force on this test.”
Mr. Sherman was probably the coolest teacher in all of seventh grade; when they had a unit on the 70’s, he showed them “All the President’s Men” and “The Deer Hunter”. He also let them listen to Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. There was no doubt that he was a different breed of teacher.
“Don’t forget to list your identification on the top right line, thank you.”
Jerry was chagrined to have a teacher with a sense of humor. Most of the time you got a Mr. Lullings, who was a bore in the fullest sense of the word.
“Oh no!”
“Not another test! Spare us, o Lord of the A’s!”
Similar pleads were heard previously, but left unanswered, except for a straight face from the teacher.
“Silence!”
And the rare exclamatory order.
Jerry glanced over to Timmy’s spot, which was about two rows away from Gina. He could see the sweat culminating on Timmy’s forehead, his eyes darting from boobs to desk, boobs to desk, etc. Jerry chuckled softly and whispered loudly
“No looking at other peoples’ test, Timmy.”
Timmy whipped his head toward Jerry, mouth hanging open. A few of the girls in the lower right corner of the room struggled holding in their giggles. Mr. Sherman rapped his desk with a large, imposing ruler to bring peace and quiet back into the students’ vocab. Jerry lent over to Brian’s desk and asked for Ashley’s number.
“Hey, gimme the number.”
“Wait till the test’s done, alright?”
“Sure.”
Jerry began his test.
It took him about seven minutes to complete the test. He could’ve been watching porn and it wouldn’t have affected his concentration on the test. After walking up to submit his work with a strange limping motion that made a loud swiffer noise on the blue-puke orange carpet, Jerry landed into his seat and began a staring contest with the clock. He lost quickly, since the clock had no possible way of losing without eyelids. In a bored stupor, he decided to think about Ashley. A quivering excitement explored through his stomach and staked a claim. A relationship of such prominence, let alone a relationship at all, would gain Jerry an extended bout of notoriety, happiness, and romantic encounters. He could just taste her lips now, her tongue, her…
“Is everyone finished?”
Mr. Sherman had rudely interrupted Jerry’s stream of thought; a common occurrence, but an offense to Jerry nonetheless. He had failed to notice the migration of several students to hand in their tests, despite them making as much noise as Spinal Tap. (Frank took a few extra minutes to finish, cursing softly at every question deemed difficult by his rather small and feeble brain) Soon, the room was buzzing with activity, while Mr. Sherman meticulously graded each and every test during the rest of the period. Jerry slowly wrote down Ashley’s number, making sure that not a single nomial was out of place.
“Alright, I got it. Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
They both looked over to Timmy, who was continuing the same visual pattern he had before the test. Jerry smiled, but Brian gave a look of extreme discomfort.
“When’s he going to give her it?”
“I hope he doesn’t give her it. I still doubt that he’s hot enough.”
“Please. Timmy wouldn’t go after a girl if he didn’t think she had feelings for him. He’s not interested in stereotypical girls like Kelly.”
“Sure he isn’t. Because Va-Gina isn’t at all stereotypical, is she?”
“Shut up. Maybe he’s just fallen into some kind of lust coma or something.”
As most young men are taught, women are human beings too. They eat sleep, shit, masturbate, and speak whatever language they’re supposed to. They have feelings internally, and think about men in ways that they don’t teach about in Sunday school. Jerry knew these things quite well; like Timmy, he wouldn’t really like a girl unless he had good understanding of their moral center. So it always made him feel guilty when he visually enjoyed someone hot; however, his mother told him that it was okay to feel this way, as long as he didn’t talk about it publicly. He was sure that every boy in his grade felt guilty about it, but since they spoke about their sights so often it was hard to tell. Jerry knew Brian was very guilty of this. Brian just wanted to be considered cool enough for a spot at the ‘cool’ table at lunch. (Brian would never get that spot)
“That’s probably it. Watch, watch, watch, he’s making a move.”
They saw Timmy pulling the slip out of his pocket, hands shaking; perspiration hit the ground as he got up. Almost everybody in the room brought their attention to him, mouths nearly rusting off their hinges in anticipation. Timmy opened his mouth to speak; the frame rate lost speed in a flash. Everything was in slow-mo; Jerry swerved his head from person to person to see their reaction. Gina smiled politely; Kelly raised a brow; Brian clasped his head in his hands; Hank lowered the volume on his iPod; Jerry stared. And then, hallucinations.
Jerry saw the roof tearing off; a swarm of bats flew in. Mr. Sherman became a large ogre-like character, Brian a small lemming. Frank became a blob of red goo, and Clarice turned into a similarly shaped purple puddle. The two puddles morphed together, and exploded. Kelly turned into a flying dove, but a bat swept down and ate her. Gina and Timmy remained the same, except for their clothing melting off. They embraced each other and passionately began to kiss. Jerry looked at his right arm, and it was slowly crumbling apart. Hank combusted into a cloud of feathers. Jerry then saw the bum. But the bum wasn’t wearing his trademark sweatpants and similar hoody; he was in a suit, a stunning black suit, with tie and everything. He was burning still, and laughed while he became a charred pile of ashes.
“Earth to Jerry.”
He was startled awake. Raising his head to grasp his surroundings, Jerry realized he was still in Social Studies.
“You missed the whole thing, dude.”
Hank was standing over Jerry, smiling.
“What’d I miss?”
“Timmy gave the poem to Gina, and after she read it, she kissed him on the cheek!”
“Huh?”
“After she read it…”
“I heard you the first time. Tell me the rest.”
“Alright, but you’re not going to believe it.”
“Shoot.”
“Okay. Timmy asked her out, and she said ‘Yes’ right away! Like it was planned or something. So, they’re going to the movies Friday.”
“What movie are they seeing?”
“Who cares? Timmy must be cumming in his pants right now.”
“Sure he is.”
Seventh period ended, with abundant gossip of the events that took place. Jerry didn’t talk about his sudden hallucinations, though. He wondered if he should tell anyone about them, but he thought it was just his vivid imagination running wild again. He thought about Ashley to get his mind off things. The seventh period that was. Damn.
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