The Five Accounts is over. I’m going to take a somewhat longer-than-usual break between stories this time since I have some things to catch up on. I’ll be back in about a month with a new story. Though I will continue updating The Aresan Clan on Jukepop.
I will do as much as possible to keep Elmville High School out of any press reports concerning the incident.1
Please do not preserve this memo. We will talk soon.
Transcript of Security Guard’s Testimony
This is a transcript of a first-hand account of Clement’s Wright assault on Jed Lyon, which I found in Assistant Principal Tutela’s office trashcan. The person is not identified, but it is evident that it is one of the security guards that was present with Tutela and helped break up the fight. Though the transcript was made, it is evident it was not used and was soon thrown away, since I found it the day after, October 3, with all the other supplementary materials. According to another document I found, testimony was taken from both security guards and from Tutela the day of October 3 and recorded. So far as I could find, this transcript alone was trashed.
Me and Ronnie were still around and ready to head home when Tutela came and told us he needed our help. He wanted us to follow one of the students. This was a bit out of the ordinary, but we said okay and went along. He told us afterwards that he’d heard that one of the kids, Clement, the one we were following, was going to be attacking another student. Once he told us Clement’s name, both Ronnie and I were totally on board. Both of us knew that kid was a bully, and we fucking hate bullies. That kid gets us mad as shit whenever we see him.
Tutela drove and we followed Clement’s car, a red sports car, hard to miss. Damn it all if Tutela didn’t turn out to be one hundred percent prophetic. We saw Jed biking home alone. He was on Lake Terrace heading east, biking on the side of the street. Clement just drove right up against him and cut him off with his car.
Jed’s bike, of course, ran into the car. How could he help it when Clement had cut him off like that? Clement got out of his car and we could see the way Clement was yelling at him and pointing to his car. He was making it seem like it was Jed’s fault. It got me real steamed. I wanted out of that car and at Clement right there, but Tutela was slow. He was pulling the car up and slowly settling us into a parking spot. By the time we got out of the car and were running, Clement was already beating the shit out of Jed.
When we got there, Jed was on the ground, on his back and Clement was straddling him with his legs. He was using a ground-and-pound, kneeling on him and using his knees to hold his arms down, while he just pounded away at him with his fists. Ronnie and I grabbed Clement’s arms and pulled him off of Jed. That kid was so fucking scary. He was consumed be rage and if we hadn’t stopped him, I’m damn sure he would’ve killed that kid.
The kid was already majorly fucked up. His face was covered in blood, and his skull was bleeding. His face was going to be permanently fucked up. Of course we called the ambulance right away and we waited with Jed until they arrived. We sat him up to make sure he didn’t choke on his own blood. That kid was crying so hard. You don’t want to know what I would do to Clement if it was him and me in some dark alley. He’d look worse than Jed when I was finished with him.
Tutela searched Clement’s car before the police arrived. I thought he found some weed,2 but I didn’t hear about it later; so maybe it was something else. Whatever.
The whole thing’s fucked up. The ambulance took Jed away and he’s going to be okay. I hope to see him back again. I’ll be sure and keep a closer eye on him next time because that kid’s been bullied all his life, and we got to watch over him.
1. As far as I could find in my research, there was no press coverage of Clement’s assault. Mr. Tutela seems to have been thoroughly successful. –Bob↩
2. It’s almost certainly because of this detail that this transcript was disposed of. Sadly, the administration of this school is not as incorruptible as these students deserve. –Bob↩
I recovered this handwritten memo from Assistant Principal Tutela to Principal Bolton. It was crumpled up and dropped into Principal Bolton’s office trashcan. He had not even bothered to rip it up. It was there in the trash on Oct 3, the same day as Ginny’s note.
I did not want to transmit this electronically, since this is an unofficial memo, related to the events concerning Clement Wright. I am not sure about what details you are aware of at present, and have taken it for granted that you know nothing. I wanted to give a detailed description through unofficial channels before any official action is taken, so that you and I can properly coordinate our public statements.
As I have described to you before, Clement Wright has been a problem since he started as a freshman four years ago. He has been the aggressor in many altercations and has been responsible for many instances of hazing and other violent acts. Despite all this, he has almost entirely avoided punishment, initially because no students were willing to come forward and report him, making the events no more than hearsay without any corroboration, and more recently because he has transferred his violence and hazing to locations beyond the school grounds. I still think that this is a concern for the school because the objects of this violence are students of this school and it is part of a general strategy of intimidation extending to his time at the school. I also believe, though so far without evidence, that he may be involved in the sadly rampant drug trade1 at this school. It may also be possible that his status as a star athlete has led to a certain amount of leniency from teachers and administrators. I should add that I would be loath to add this last detail in an official communiqué, but I think it is a fact and I can trust your discretion.
The incident in question was a violent altercation between Clement Wright and a fellow senior named Jed Lyon. Clement Wright brutally assaulted Jed Lyon shortly after the two of them had completed detention. Jed Lyon was riding home on his bike and Clement Wright intercepted him in his car. Clement Wright knocked Jed Lyon off of his bicycle and proceeded to punch him repeatedly. Me and two of my security guards witnessed the attack and intervened as quickly as possible. We were present on the scene because we had learned from another student that Clement Wright was probably intending to attack Jed Lyon at that time. It was one of the students in detention that day with Clement Wright who had heard him confess to such intentions during detention. After receiving this information, we had followed Clement Wright in concern for Jed Lyon’s safety.
We regret to note that we were unable to intervene soon enough to entirely prevent the event and that Jed Lyon has been hospitalized, but we are quite sure that we were able to prevent more serious, perhaps even permanent injury.
Clement Wright, who is still a minor, was arrested and charges will be brought against him, most probably First Degree Assault and Menacing. There is a good chance he will serve jail time. He will probably also be charged with Minor in Possession and Driving While Ability Impaired since a flask of whiskey was found in his car and he was measured at a blood alcohol level of .04% when he was arrested.
Now I realize that this does fall outside the school’s normal area of punishment, since it did not occur at school or during any school-related event. I also realize that, since Clement Wright has no official history of violence, so far as any official records are concerned, this would appear to be an isolated incident, but I think that the district will be willing to accept expulsion for Clement Wright, due to the severity and illegal nature of his act.
1. I’ve seen evidence of this in the form of marijuana cigarette butts in the trashcans. I have never brought them to the attention of Tutela or Bolton mostly because I do not trust either of these men. –Bob↩
Not that I believe you owe me something, since straddling your cock while you were sitting at your desk and riding you until we both came together was such a transcendental sexual experience that it’s more than I could ask of you. Rather it just that, call me prudish, but I believe that our act of sexual congress might be considered a bit improper, perhaps even in violation of one or two of the school’s rules. I’ll be sure and review the rulebook, just to make sure. I can’t deny that it was the height of pleasure to stare at your beautiful face with your cock throbbing inside me, to have you touch my breasts and kiss me. I shall fantasize about it and relive it in my mind many, many times as I masturbate. But I think some members of the school administration and the community might consider it unbecoming of a public school teacher.
I can’t deny that I may have been the aggressor. I worked especially hard to seduce you, and you made no effort to take the initiative. I had to almost drag you to your office, and push you into your chair. I had to grab you, to kiss you, and grab your hands to touch me. I had to unbuckle your belt, and I was the one who sat down on your cock. You didn’t even let me linger afterwards. You kicked me out of your office as soon as you were done. Still, you did consent. Your cock even stood to attention for me. That being said, though, I’m still a minor, and that means I’m not genuinely responsible for my actions and that you bear all the guilt. Call it unfair, but that’s the way it is.
Now I admit that in most situations it would simply be your word against mine, and if you were a competent liar, you might be able to get away with it. There might even be some people in this school who don’t exactly trust me, crazy as it may sound, and would accuse me of making it up. For this reason, I took the effort to make a video recording of our encounter. I’ve already reviewed the results of my amateur filmmaking experiment, already relived the ecstasy of our fucking in all its glory, fingering myself while I did so. I achieved a spectacular orgasm in the process (it turns out I was wrong about my first orgasm being the best that day as I had written in the story you read).
My admittedly unprofessional attempt at erotic filmmaking is a bit disappointing. It’s not the type of film to find its way into film festivals and win awards. It’s not even good porn, since it shows you just sitting there passively while I forced myself upon you, but I don’t think that’ll be enough to excuse your actions.
Now I know you already have a habit of grading the prettier girls on a curve. So all I’m asking is that you extend the same courtesy to me. Unless you’d like some other people to witness our wonderful duet, perhaps you might even try grading me as if I was the prettiest of them all. I also reserve the right to ask some other very modest favors of you in the future that I hope you’ll comply with (a few nice recommendation letters for college apps wouldn’t harm either of us, I think).1
I should add that I will remember our sex act fondly, though your performance was of poor quality. You see, the feeling that above all makes a conquest wonderful is the pleasure of accomplishment. It’s the pleasure of working so hard to achieve something and finally succeeding. It’s the pleasure of climbing over barriers that have been set in your way to reach your goal. For that reason, the experience that we shared together will long remain in my memory as one of my most wonderful experiences, and I’m genuinely glad that you got to share it with me. Thank you.
Love and kisses,
1. As of the date of publication of this book, neither Ginny’s video recording nor the affair recorded therein have been made public and Mr. Malek is still employed at the school. –Bob↩
Tutela approached me and nodded in Jed’s direction. He said, “You know Jed over there?”
I shrugged my shoulders and said “Yeah, sort of.”
“It’s surprising when a student without any history of disciplinary problems one day does something to warrant a five-day suspension out of nowhere.”
I didn’t quite understand what he was driving at and asked, “What did he do to get suspended?”
He replied, “I can’t discuss student discipline with other students. Jed was disciplined for something he did today and won’t be back to school for a few days. We don’t want it even to be widely known that he’s been suspended. So, you’ll sure keep it between you and I.”
He winked and walked away.
It seemed like he was hinting that Jed was being suspended for doing the inking. It made no sense. Why would Tutela be telling me this? I couldn’t deny I had seen Jed take the napkin holder and get all scared that someone might see it. It was crystal clear when I thought about it. He’d asked out Frankie once and she’d rejected him. Now I remember why I’d beaten the shit out of him. It was because he’d asked out Frankie. Then Felice had done a mean little prank to him for the same reason, just to top it off. She had locked him in a locker after school was closed and everyone had left. He had to spent the whole night in there.1 It must have sucked. Now he was going after all three of us.
When I got to detention, Malek was in charge and to my surprise Frankie and Felice were both there. At least I’d have company in detention. I also saw a slut I knew named Ginny, someone I would never admit anywhere but in these pages that I’d slept with a few times.
Then I saw that little puke stain I was going to beat the shit out of sitting in the back. I ignored him. I didn’t want him to know what was coming. I would make sure that it came out of the blue, like a piano falling out of the sky. I would track him down after school, and flatten him. He always rode his bike home alone. I knew where. Today he wouldn’t make it home.
This is a note from “Ginny,” addressed to “Mr. Malek,” which I found ripped up in Mr. Malek’s cubicle trashcan on Oct 3, the day after I found the previous set of accounts. These people are so careless about disposing incriminating material sometimes. Trashcans are not incinerators, nor do their contents disappear into some void. That trash has to pass through many grimy hands before it is buried in a landfill. Just remember that.
Dear Mr. Malek,
I’m writing in the hopes that I can persuade you to reconsider my grade in your class one last time. The reason for this has a lot to do with what you and I shared in your office after detention just yesterday.
1. I was the one who found Jed the next morning. I remember I heard someone pounding on a locker and saw no one, and my first thought was that our school was haunted. Turned out it was Jed, pounding from the inside, and when I opened up, it stank. He actually had gathered a bottle of his own urine (better than sitting in his own piss, I guess), and he was so weak he could barely stand. To be honest, his revenge was a bit tame compared to what happened to him. –Bob↩
Don’t nobody think Blair’s getting used if I did that. If she’s getting a chance to be with me because of her father, she should be thankful. The problem is that there’s one thing she doesn’t understand. She’s Blair Brown, and I’m Clement Wright. I’m fucking Clement Wright. I was stooping to ask her out. Let’s not fucking lie to ourselves. She’s beneath me. She’s a nice girl and fun to be with, but she’s not a preeminent fox like Frankie or Felice. Both Frankie and Felice would be happy to go to Homecoming with me. Every damn girl in school would go out to Homecoming if I asked. I’m Clement Wright. It seems that Blair just doesn’t understand a damn thing. If she’d just open her eyes, she’d see that she isn’t some high and mighty queen. If she could see who she is, I wouldn’t have been standing there like an ass. I won’t tell her that since I think she wouldn’t like it, but it’s the truth. If she wasn’t so stuck up, she’d know it.
I wanted to rip off that dress and fuck her until she was sore and then rape her ass with a broomstick and shove a pinecone up her cunt. That stupid bitch! I wanted more than anything to pound whoever was responsible for inking me. I’d flatten their skull with my foot and then impale them on a flagpole. Whoever it was had not only ruined my whole day. They’d ruined my chances with Blair and my future. About the only thing that could make me happy was to feel that person’s bones breaking beneath my fists.
Things started sort of looking up for me later. First thing that happened was that I saw Blair punished. It looked like it was Felice who did it, since I saw her touching up Blair’s makeup just when I arrived. I thought that maybe Felice had done it for me, to get that bitch back for rejecting me. I’d told her about it just the period before.
Maybe not, though, I don’t know. Felice is a confusing girl. When her and I were dating she’d love it when I’d slap her and whip her real hard and burn her with my cigarette. Bitch just moaned like I was fucking her when I did these things. Then later it was like she thought I was all cruel for doing that shit to her. She never made sense. Now here she was tying up Blair Brown for God knows why.
I didn’t let that bother me. It didn’t matter why. It was like a Christmas present with a big fucking bow, and I was going to play with my toy. Felice had pulled down her pants and her ass was sticking up. All I needed was my cat-o-nine-tails to make it complete. I could see her pussy lips and her hairy bush between her legs. I shoved a pen in there. Then I just smacked her ass so hard with my hand. She didn’t know it was me, and I didn’t want her to know it was me. I wasn’t ready to give up my plans yet. I just smacked her again and again and people were cheering me on.
Mrs. Marston came by, super angry. I high-tailed it out of there before she saw me. I didn’t want her to think I’d tied Blair up. This time I’d done nothing wrong.
Even better, an even bigger piece of luck came my way. I saw the assistant principal approaching this skinny little runt named Jed Lyon. I knew of him, but didn’t know him. He was a loser with no friends. I think I’d beaten him up once or twice. I couldn’t remember why. Tutela handed Jed a metal box that looked like the think that had covered us in ink. Jed looked like he didn’t want to take it. Tutela forced him to take it. Jed hid it in his bag and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I watched Jed walk into room 103, where the detention was.
That angered my mom a lot who started to shout at him, “Are you trying to tell me how to raise my son? I don’t appreciate being told by a school administrator what I can and can’t do for my very own son.”
That waddling bastard, can you believe, started to shout back at my mom: “No, you have it backwards. You’re trying to undermine the rules of this school. You can do whatever you want with your son on your own time, but you can’t give him a blank check to violate the rules of this school while he is here.”
My mom and him went back and forth a few more times. In the end he told me I wasn’t getting out of detention. I wanted to grab his fat, bald head and slam it against the desk. I wanted to stopper his dickhole with a pencil, then pour liquor down his throat until his bladder burst.1
I just left, like a spineless chump. In the halls, I came across Trey carrying some books to locker 317. I shoved him against the locker. He dropped a few of the books on the ground. He panicked and picked them up as fast as he could and put them into the lockers.
The worse part was that when I did ask out Blair, the fat cow said “No!”
I was so charming when I approached her. I had a big smile on my face, and I told her, “You’re looking good today, Blair.”
She was looking good. She had a nice dress showing off her legs. The neckline was so low that her cleavage was just out there. I couldn’t help noticing her tasty titties. I was counting the days until I’d be able to touch them.
“But you always look good,” I added. She thanked me. I told her, “You’d look super great in a Homecoming dress. Even better if you were hanging on my arm. Don’t you think?”
She didn’t say anything. She just replied with an “Umm.”
I explained, “What I meant to say is that I want to ask you to go to Homecoming with me. It’ll be great. You and I would be great together. I’ll make sure you have a great night. You go out with me, you’ll have a great time. You won’t forget it.”
She looked at me with a surprised look. She seemed confused.
She said, “I’m sorry Clement. I have to say ‘no.’ It is so sweet of you. I’m flattered.”
“Did someone else already ask you?” I asked.
She just shook her head and said, “I’m sorry. I have to be getting to class.”
Then she just left me and didn’t say anymore.
I was furious. That bitch thought she was so much better than me. She needed to learn. I wanted to scream it out at her in the halls. Tell her what she was to me. I didn’t. I held myself back. It wouldn’t help me. I don’t want her because I think she’s so hot. I wish I could tell her that. She ain’t so hot. There’s much hotter than her. Much hotter girls that I could have whenever I wanted.
In truth, I want Blair for her father. I don’t mean like I want to fuck her father. What I want is her father to help me get a scholarship to UConn. He’s a big time alumnus with a lot of pull, and I’m a damn fine basketball player. Truth is, the big teams have all started growing cold to me. Sure I could walk on without a scholarship, but college is damn expensive. I so need that money. My parents told me they ain’t paying for shit with my shitty grades. And I need a top-notch school that’s got a chance of getting me into March Madness and in the limelight if I ever want to go pro. Blair’s father could get that. If I could get on Blair’s good side, he just might do that for me.
1. In general, I think the authors of these accounts were a tad too honest, considerably more honest than I would’ve been in their circumstance. I could think of no better example than Clement’s account, and particularly passages such as these. –Bob↩
Lucky for me, my way to a homecoming date was opened back up. After I parked in my spot, I took another swig of scotch to celebrate. Then I went back inside.
Unlucky for me, I ran into an even more serious setback during lunch. I had taken our usual table and was getting prepared to sit down for food with Felice. Frankie arrived, and just before we sat down, the napkin holder opened all on its own. I thought it was broken. Then I saw that there was this small machine inside. I was confused. I didn’t know the napkin holder did that or had that inside. Then the thing started spraying black ink everywhere. I was sprayed all over with ink. On my shirt, my face, my pants. My clothes were ruined.
I was furious. I ran to the bathroom and tried to wash the ink off, but it wouldn’t come off. Even the ink on my skin didn’t come off. I had grey spots on my face and arms. My clothes were ruined for sure.
I was ready to pound whoever had done that to me. All I could do was punch the mirror. It hurt my fists. The minute I found out who it was would be last minute that person would be breathing. I’d put my fist all the way through his head. Then I’d rip his arms off and shove them down his throat. I’d watch him as he eyes bulged out and he choked to death.
I rushed to my car and drove home to change. I had other clothes that were nice, not quite as nice, but I guess good enough. I hurled my inked clothes into the trash. I was so fucking pissed.
By the time I got back to campus, lunch was over. I was almost twenty minutes late for my next class. I told my teacher, Mrs. Marston, about my mom needing me, but she told me I needed to get permission to leave the campus. She sent me to Tutela.
I sat down in his drab office. The fat, sweaty idiot had the balls to tell me that he knew that I’d been off campus and that I had to stay after school in detention.
I told Tutela that I had to leave campus earlier because I had to go help my mom who got locked out of her car.
“She locked her keys in her car,” I said, “I’ll just call her and she’ll vouch for me.”
I pulled out my cell phone, but the asshole snatched it out of my hand. If he wasn’t the assistant principal, I would’ve bashed him in the face. No one does that shit to me.
“I’ll call her for you,” he told me.
He logged onto his computer and pulled up my record. He read my mom’s number off of the screen and dialed the number on the phone on his desk.
After a few rings he said, “Mrs. Smith, this is assistant principal Tutela. How you doing? I’ve just called to ask you if you had tried to call me earlier today?”
I could hear my mom say, “No”
“No? Were you, perhaps, planning on calling me later?” he asked.
“No, why?” she said.
“You didn’t happen to have any problems today that your son had to leave school to assist you with?”
She didn’t say anything at first, but she was quick. She chimed in to save my butt.
“Oh yes, of course,” she said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you about that. I needed my son’s help today. I hope he wasn’t away too long, but it was quite urgent.”
“With what exactly?” the crafty devil asked. As if he dared to accuse my mom of lying.
She asked him, “Could I speak with Clement for a minute?”
Tutela shook his head and told her, “I’m afraid if you and your son can’t agree on your stories, then I can’t let him off the hook here. Quite frankly I don’t appreciate you lying for your son. Elmville High has a closed campus policy, and we expect your son to respect it by not leaving without permission.”
He had the balls to say that to my mom. He treated her like she was some freshman fuckwad.
My first two classes were a waste of time. I don’t think I learned a damn thing. I thought about Blair Brown naked in my mind. I saw her lying on my bed. Her bare ass was facing me. I took my leather cat-o-nine-tails and whipped her ass. Then when I got tired of that, I used my black riding crop. Her ass was red and she squealed when I slapped her bare skin. I felt like I was so close to getting her in my bed that I could smell her sweat and pussy juice.
During my third period Paul told me something that was just about the worst thing I could’ve ever heard. I saw him in the cafeteria and I was glad to see him. I like Paul. He’s a good small forward. He makes a good teammate. He gives me the ball when I need it and doesn’t hog it.
We started talking about Homecoming. He told me, “I’m going to ask out Blair Brown, during lunch. I’m nervous.”
I wanted to tell him not to, but I didn’t want to be obvious. I made a face like I thought this was a bad decision.
I told him, “You sure? You think you and Blair would make a good couple? There’re many fine honeys at this school beside her. Many fine honeys would be grateful to go with you, the first string basketball star. I mean sex-on-the-first-date grateful. You know what I mean?”
“You’re just saying that because you want her to yourself,” he said. He had a big smile on his face. I think he was only joking.
“Okay, your choice,” I said, “Let’s get a drink. I’ve got a flask of single malt in my car. We can drink to your good luck.”
He was reluctant to follow. I had to tell him, “Come on. You should do it. The scotch will give you a bit of liquid courage. It’ll make asking out Blair easier.”
At that he conceded.
In truth, I only suggested we head out that way because I knew we’d have to travel down a staircase to get there. I was planning on him not making it to the car due to an unlucky accident.
We walked down the hall to the other side of school and turned a corner leading to the hallway leading to the parking lot. Just through that hallway was the stairs. At the top of those stairs I pulled one of his feet out of place with my foot. I did it so that he didn’t notice it was me. I’m like a dancer on my feet. That made him topple forward down the stairs from the top. When he tried to stop his fall with his other foot, it landed wrong, and he twisted it beneath him. Then he continued to fall. He landed on his hands, and he slid to the bottom. He ended up as a heap on the floor.
I ran down the stairs to his side. I cried out and asked, “Are you okay? You took a nasty fall.” He winced when he tried to move his foot.
“I hurt my right ankle I think,” he said.
“Can you walk?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
I gave him a hand and helped him onto his feet. I acted as a crutch while I led him to the nurse. He limped while we walked across the school. He winced each time his right foot touched the ground. He wasn’t going to be playing basketball for a while. The team was going to be losing a good player, and I didn’t like that. It could make me look bad. He’d be replaced with a worse player, and I wouldn’t see as many passes. It was too bad it had to be like this.
Our nurse was an old, ugly hag. She was dressed in white. She looked at the ankle and felt it with her hands. She moved it around and asked him when it hurt.
Afterwards, she told him, “I don’t think it’s broken but you should get this looked at by a doctor. Looks like a sprain.”
I offered to take him to an Urgent Care Clinic near the school. The nurse gave us permission to leave campus. I drove him down there and offered to wait there with him. He insisted I head back. I then left him there. I told him to call me if he needed anything. Paul’s mother would later come and pick him up from there. The lucky bastard would spend the rest of his day at home.
I asked Malek for a quick pee break. He said: “I better see you back here in a few minutes.” Let me go. When I stepped out the door, I passed Chet in the hallway. He told me to drop the money in locker 317. I didn’t know the drill since I’d never bought from Chet at school. Always went to his place. I dropped the envelope, with $150 in it and my name on the front, through the slots. As I walked to the can, he gave me the book, a paperback of Yasunari Kawabata’s Snow Country.
I looked at the title and asked, “Big fan of Japanese lit?”
Chet smiled. Said: “Yeah right. Someone else chooses the titles. I’m just a lender. You’d prefer instead White Fang? A Handful of Dust?1 The Snows of Kilimanjaro? The Nose? White Noise?”
I shook my head and left. Opened the book in a toilet stall. In the middle of it, several pages had been cut out, leaving a chamber where had been deposited a neat little plastic baggie. The marching powder my nose was twitching for.
I opened the bag. Lifted a tiny bit up to my nose with my small spoon. Inhaled it. After such a period of abstinence, it was like honey in my blood. I sniffed up some more wacky dust. It transformed me. Took everything that had been weighing me down and pushed it aside. Right now as I write this, I can say that I am wrapped in the arms of rapture.
I could write ten thousand more pages,2 but it looks like it’s about time to finish up. Detention’s almost over.
I3 woke up early this morning. I smoked a cigarette first thing. I spent some time relaxing in bed. My sister’s cat, Bastiat, passed the door to my room then. I had some unfinished business with that damn cat. He’d annoyed the hell out of me last night with his meowing. I realized I hadn’t punished him like he deserved.
That cat was terrified of me. He ran away when he saw me getting out of bed. I caught him by the scruff of his neck. I took Bastiat into my hand, and he whined and scratched. I put my burning cigarette to his skin, and he howled with pain.
I had to remind him, since I could tell he’d forgotten by now, “This is for the noise you made last night. I can’t get my studies done with you meowing like that.”
I hated that cat. When he whined with pain like that, I felt good about myself. I felt good about the world.
When I got dressed that morning I took extra time. I wanted to look super nice. I first drowned myself in cologne. I put on the nicest clothes in my wardrobe, short of a suit and tie. I had my best shirt and nicest shoes. I even wore French cuffs and cufflinks. There was an extra special girl at Elmville High, Blair Brown, who’d be getting an invitation to the Homecoming dance from me today. She didn’t know it yet.
I ate a breakfast of eggs, bacon and milk. My mom served it to me, right on time and still hot and steaming. She’s a good mom to me sometimes. Except when she’s a bitch and gets in my way.
I hopped in my sports car for a quick ride to school. I squealed the tires as I drove down the street. My space by the door was unoccupied. As always. I’d worked hard to make sure everyone knew it was mine. I took the morning swig from my flask and left it in the car. The scotch loosens me up. It readies me for the hunt.
I didn’t have a chance to talk to Blair that morning before class because I had to take care of business. I’d been dealing weed since the summer. I had a growing list of customers. One of these had demanded I deliver half an ounce before class. I had to wait for him at the edge of the parking lot just outside of school grounds. By the time we’d finished our business I had to rush to get to class.
1. It’s probably of no interest to the reader, but this is one of my favorite books? –Bob↩
2. Forgive me if I’m not disappointed that she didn’t do this. –Bob↩
3. Deciphering Clement’s awful handwriting was a task tantamount to translating from Chinese. Many of my word choices are more accurately described as best guesses. –Bob↩