Chapter 5: The Yellow Corvette (part 2)

The yellow Corvette pulled into the high school parking lot and stopped next to a beat up Rambler. Lardo lounged inside the relic of a vehicle, relishing a can of beans. Lardo loved beans. He consumed them religiously and prodigiously for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. He rarely ate anything else and the fact that he ate so many of them contributed significantly to his growing girth. Kidney beans, black beans, pinto beans – Lardo loved them all.
Several students strolled by the Rambler on their way to their first period class. “Gross! Roll up the window, will you?” one student groaned and the group began to sprint for safety. They held their noses until they had escaped the danger zone. Stretch got out of the gleaming Corvette and, frowning in the direction of the Rambler, walked quickly away from the invisible odor toward the school building. He was intercepted by Linda, dressed in her cheerleader outfit, who was walking in the same direction.
“Hi,” said Linda, with a big smile on her face. She considered it part of her duties as a cheerleader to welcome what appeared to be new students to the high school–especially tall, good-looking students.
“Hi, good lookin’,” said the handsome, athletic young man, showing no sign of shyness.
Linda glanced back admiringly at the yellow Corvette. Her boyfriend Tommy only rode a bicycle.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked, trying not to show her obvious interest, but still seeking information about the attractive male at her side.
“First day,” said Stretch. “Moved down from San Jose. I’m staying with my uncle for a while.”
“San Jose. I think I’ve heard of that,” Linda mused, demonstrating that a knowledge of geography wasn’t one of her strong points. She decided to change the subject. “Is that your car?”
“Yeah. Beauty, isn’t she?” The tall, good-looking young man pulled a paper from his shirt pocket and began to study it. “You wouldn’t happen to know where English Literature 12 is, would you?”
“Miss Limburger’s class?”
“Yeah. That‘s the one.”
“That’s my first class, too,” the blond cheerleader said, delighted. “Come on, I’ll take you there.” She linked arms with Stretch, proud to be serving her school in such a meaningful capacity, and they walked together toward the school entrance.
The Tootville High School was in reality rather small and consisted of an old two-story building with a gymnasium built behind it. The second story consisted entirely of classrooms. The first floor, in addition to classrooms, housed an adequate cafeteria and lunchroom, two fairly large boys and girls bathrooms, a lounge for the teachers and an office for the principal. Stairs inside both ends of the building led up to the second floor. An exit at the back of the building allowed the students easy access to the gymnasium. The gymnasium was flanked on one side by the boys locker room and on the other side by the girls locker room. Visiting teams at athletic events generally used the girls locker room. Behind the gymnasium and the two locker rooms, a football field with a track running around it sported two sets of old, wooden bleachers, one for the Tootville supporters and one for visitors. A baseball field and some tennis courts had also been built behind the gymnasium, obviously some years ago, along with a second parking lot to accommodate spectators at the sporting events. At the entrance to the school the pair passed by the tall, skinny statue of Major Toot, which perched on a pedestal near the front steps that lead to the main entrance to the weathered brick building. Bike racks were set up on one side of the steps.
“That’s Major Toot, the founder of Tootville,” Linda proudly pointed out. “Our school is named after him.”
“So I noticed. What’s your team name?”
“We’re the Chickens,” Linda replied.” “The mighty Tootville Chickens.”
“The mighty Tootville Chickens,” repeated Stretch, sourly. “Great.”
Linda and her new friend walked together up the stairs and into the hallowed halls of Tootville High School.
In the parking lot, an empty can of beans flew out of the driver’s side window of the Rambler and landed clattering on the asphalt. Lardo opened the car door, stepped out of the rust-bucket and walked across the parking lot toward the main entrance. As he passed the statue of Major Toot, he stopped and, raising one leg, let loose with a long, malodorous fart. “Morning, Major,” he said, saluting the statue respectfully. Lardo continued up the stairs and entered the edifice. Moments later, Miss Limburger, the scrawny, white-haired English teacher, approached the statue. She stopped and sniffed the air suspiciously. Miss Limburger thrust a hand deep into her bulging purse and pulled out a large spray can of disinfectant. She sprayed the armpits of the statue thoroughly. Then she looked around. Seeing no one nearby, she directed a long blast from her spray can to the crotch of the statue. Miss Limburger returned her spray can to her purse, smiled smugly and entered the building as a disheveled Tommy and Watson approached. Tommy was wheeling a badly beat-up bicycle. Watson walked beside him, limping slightly, several goose feathers still sticking to his fur. As they passed the statue, Watson whined and Tommy sniffed the air. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it,” he said defensively. Tommy parked his bike in the racks and turned to his dog. “Guard this bike, Watson,” he said, gesturing toward the mangled machine. Then he hurried up the steps and sprinted for his class, hoping he wouldn’t be tardy.
The students filed into English Literature 12, located on the first floor of the building near the rear entrance. Linda, entering with Stretch, took her usual seat in the front of the classroom. The handsome new student sat down at the desk beside her. Moments before the tardy bell was to sound, Tommy flew into the room only to find that his customary seat had been taken by a tall, athletic looking stranger. “Hey, you’re in my seat,” he said.
Stretch turned to Linda. “Who’s this creep?”
“This creep is…I mean, this is my boyfriend, Tommy Dinkle,” Linda responded.
“Wait a minute. I recognize you,” Stretch said angrily. “You’re the guy who almost scratched my paint job. Listen, butt brain, where I come from its first come, first serve, so find yourself a seat in the back.”
Miss Limburger entered the room just as the tardy bell sounded. She looked at Tommy and said somewhat impatiently, “Brush that goose feather off of your shoulder and find an empty seat in the back, Thomas. You’re holding up the class.”
“Way in the back,” said Stretch, making an exaggerated gesture with his closed hand and extended thumb. Linda couldn’t help but smile.
Tommy walked to the back of the classroom and took a seat at the only vacant desk, located between Lardo on one side and Fishface on the other. Fishface was wearing braids again and a silly round hat that matched the same polka dot dress she had worn to the game the night before. Her long stockings were loose and sliding down her legs and the coke bottle lenses of her glasses made her eyes appear enormously large. She ogled Tommy unabashedly. “Hi, handsome.”
Tommy stared straight ahead. “Terrific. What next?” he muttered to himself. Lardo lifted one cheek and farted in Tommy’s direction. The goose feather, wafted by the toxic breeze, floated up and away from Tommy’s shoulder toward the classroom coat closet.
“Good morning, class,” Miss Limburger said brightly. The class members responded half-heartedly. After all, it was English. “Good morning, Miss Limburger.”
“Let’s pay close attention to our morning announcements.”
There was static from the decrepit loudspeaker above the door. Principle Dood’s voice came over the line. “Good morning, students.”
The class members responded even more half-heartedly. “Good morning, Principal Dood.”
Principal Dood, a tall, authoritative man with a mission to fully liberate the student body of Tootville High from the double demons of illiteracy and ignorance, stood in his office, nobly grasping a microphone in one hand. On the principal’s desk was an old, well used phonograph player with a vinyl record spinning on the turntable. “Boys and girls,” began the principal. “Remember, tomorrow is career day here at Tootville High School. Please come dressed in the costumes that your future professions dictate. Also, be prepared to give a short report in your first period classes on just what your chosen profession will be.” The illiterate and ignorant students simultaneously groaned.
“And now our national anthem,” articulated Principal Dood patriotically. The students stood, hands over their hearts, as the music began, but it was being played at too high a speed. The sound of a phonograph needle scratching across a record and then a crashing noise came from the speaker above the door. The students sat down. Tommy glanced over at Fishface. She caught him looking at her and winked at him. He quickly turned his head and stared straight ahead at Miss Limburger, wishing he was in the front row.
“Now class, we have a real treat in store for us today. Stretch Dribble has moved into our area and will be attending school here at Tootville High. Stretch, would you come up here and introduce yourself to the class?”
Stretch stood up and walked to the head of the class. “Like the lady said, my name is Stretch Dribble. My uncle, the basketball coach, asked me to transfer down so his team would be sure to win the championship game. Since he’s making the payments on my wheels, I just couldn’t say no to his request. He says this school has never won a championship. But rest assured – with me here you can’t lose.”
Tommy, in the back of the room, raised his hand. “Just one question, Stretch,” said Tommy alertly.
“What’s that, butt brain?”
“Could the reason you’re so cool be because your fly is undone?”
Stretch looked down and then quickly turned his back to the class and zipped up his pants to the whistles and catcalls of his new fellow students.