We last left our heroes on the soccer field basking in glory...
"YES!" yelled Peter from the wooden benches where all the students, junior to senior, were watching the game.
"NO!" cried a stupid mean blonde girl who was rooting against them.
Julio rose his hand into the sky and thanked God for giving him the strength to propel his team ahead one to nothing. Strangely, enough, Julio could faintly hear a response from above... but he probably imagined it.
Troy was throwing a childlike tantrum in the middle of the field, he threw his fluorescent green headband onto the ground and started stomping on it.
"No! They're cheating! I'm gonna go tell Mr. Schett! I'm gonna go tell Mr. Schett!" whined the douchebag crybaby Troy.
Just then a big round fat teacher arrived on the field...
"You don't have to tell me anything! I saw the whole thing from my secret vantage point... I saw the whole thing... don't worry Troy... I'll take care of this," said Mr. Schett to comfort the dumb crybaby Troy.
Julio knew the game was over and somehow they'd be declared the losers... but in his own heart, mind, and in the powerful eye of the only judge who really mattered, God, he knew he was the winner. The only entity that can truly judge him, like his mother explained to him when he was little, was God, not Mr. Schett... so he didn't even care for what the over-weight hot-dog eating man would say to him.
"Daygo! Some people never learn. There's nothing more I can do to you. If you're ever going to learn how not to cheat at soccer... it'll be from someone other than me... because I've exhausted any form of teaching method in my teacher's handbook with you," said Mr. Schett.
"I understand... Mr. Schett," replied Julio not wanting to argue.
...and that was that. That was the end of their soccer feud with the Triangle of T. In their minds and hearts... and also in the minds but not the hearts of the entire school... everyone knew they won. The whole entire school knew, whether they liked it or not, that they won.
When school ended they celebrated by going to the ice cream truck...
"Those bastards. Those bastards. They have sullied my clothes... the face of Jose Canseco and of Tony La Russa are muddied with dirt. It is a great insult to myself, to baseball, to the A's of Oakland, and to America," said Matsuo as he dusted himself off.
They looked at the ice cream available on the side of the ice cream truck. One ice cream product available was offered in the shape of a frog...no, they thought. One was in the shape of Mario or Luigi... which peaked their interest... and then at the right side of the menu... they saw the ice cream truck had ice cream in the shape of all four ninja turtles!
"Yo! Let's each get a Turtle! I got Raph!" exclaimed Woolly-Milton.
"Cool! I got Donnie," said Julio.
"You want Mikey or Leo... Mat?" asked Peter being gracious to their guest in America.
"I would like to eat, the party dude, I would like to eat an ice cream product in the likeness of Michelangelo," replied Matsuo.
"Okay... then I'll get LEO!" said Peter.
They all ordered a different turtle each... and proceeded to a chain-link fence, to lean on, so they could rest and enjoy their ninja-turtle shaped ice cream pops.
"We are tragic heroes... I feel like... I won... yet, also, in many ways... I feel as though... I've lost," said Matsuo in regards to his feelings.
"I know I won... it's just that we don't get anything. We won but we won... nothing," said Woolly-Milton.
"I won something. I don't care if Mr. Shit or some stuck-up chicks were mad that we won... we still won... and... it's sappy... but it's like my mom always said... the only person who can truly judge you... is God," explained Julio as he took a bite out of Donatello's purple bandana which was grape-flavored.
"In the eyes of God, you're right, man... we are the champions in the eyes of God," agreed Woolly-Milton.
"I saw you praying out there, Mat, what do Japanese people believe in?" asked Peter.
"My religion is called Shinto... our concept of God or Kami... is not easily explained... but we do believe in God," explained Matsuo.
"That's why I don't care what other people think of me. Troy got so sad because he lost... I think... it's because he has too much pride. He knows the whole school watched him lose and... he couldn't handle it," said Julio.
"He, in many ways, Julio-san... is also a tragic hero," suggested Matsuo in regards to Troy.
"No, Mat, he really isn't... he's a stupid, ugly, cheating, prick," countered Peter.
"I'm with Peter on this one," said Woolly-Milton as he enjoyed his cherry-flavored Raphael bandana portion of his ice cream pop.
"Forgiveness please for my err in thought," said Matsuo.
"Don't worry 'bout it, Mat..." said Julio.
They finished their turtles ice cream and then went to their respective dwellings. They were too tired to play video games today.
Julio went to bed early... for a change. There was nothing to worry about any longer, nothing to keep him awake at night. He since had beaten the water level and even made it to the drome in Turtles on NES. He had been switched out of Mr. Schett's horrible homeroom and had won glory on the soccer field. The three things that kept him up at night were now removed and gone from his mind.
As he ate supper that night, he ate like an adult... he was relaxed and enjoyed his food. He really savored each and every bite. He went to bed early and woke up early...
In the morning, he got ready for school, and ate some breakfast. When his mother told him she loved him as he walked to the door, he remembered he wasn't saying it back to her... because Troy told him saying that word, Love, was something only meant for gay people.
As Julio walked out the door that morning, he turned to his mother and said...
"Hey Mom... I love you too," said Julio.
"......" said the gentle Juanita.
Julio jumped on his bike and began peddling to school. He peddled strong and free... like he always wanted to be. His mind was free... until it was loaded again with bad thoughts.
He couldn't believe he was called a cheater... he couldn't believe that woman showed him how to make a sandwich in school... he couldn't believe they got Mat's A's shirt dirty... he couldn't believe...
Meanwhile, he wasn't looking where he was going.
"AAAAAAAAAAH!" yelled Julio as he hit an obstruction, a stone perhaps, and flew off his bike!
"Aaaaaaaaaaah!" he gasped in agony as he flew head-first, without wearing a helmet, onto the pavement of the road.
He held his head... there was blood... he looked at the red on his hand... I'm bleeding he thought...and then promptly... passed out.
Chapter 7
Coma
To Be Continued...
Julio heard a phone ringing... and it wouldn't stop. He wanted to wake up to answer it but he could not move any part of his body. The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing.
He knew he was in the hospital, he knew he was in bad shape, he knew he was in a bed, and he knew a phone was ringing... and that was it. That's all he knew.
He knew something had happened but what? Actually... he remembered falling off his bike and hitting his head on the pavement. He remembered holding his hand to his head and yelling that their was blood on his hand and on his head.
How long ago was that?
The phone kept ringing. Whoever it was really wanted to talk to him, he thought, but their desire to reach him was giving him a splitting headache. Ringing and ringing and ringing... just hang up! He thought. Whoever is calling must be aware that he couldn't move!
He tried to move his left leg... but couldn't.
He tried to move his right arm... but couldn't.
He tried to move his right leg... but couldn't.
He tried to move his left arm... but simply could not do it.
He couldn't even move his face! He couldn't smile or wiggle his nose! What the hell was going on!?
He started to become paranoid! Was the phone really ringing? No one would let the phone ring a hundred times without hanging up on the other end! Maybe the phone was his brain ringing from the brain damage!? Ah, he thought.... or maybe the ringing phone... was a memory?
He tried to focus on just his own thoughts... but couldn't feel his own mind.
The phone eventually stopped ringing... but then random thoughts and voices started to assail his waking mind...
"You dropped the pie, Julio!? I just finished making that!" yelled his mother at him after he dropped a whole lemon meringue pie on the kitchen floor when he was six years old.
"Julio! Come and play catch with me! I'll be Scioscia! You be Valenzuela! Come on, Julio!" said his late father, Roberto, pounding a catcher's mitt.
"Yo! Julio! Yo! Don't tell nobody I told you this but..." started his older cousin Jorge before he told him the grossest joke he ever heard that had plenty of swear words in it.
"Me? Sure thing. Prune juice keeps this Woolly-Milton... Regular," said Woolly-Milton Regular.
He laughed on the inside but couldn't feel if his lips were moving as he laughed.
"Julio! When I was growing up in Sinaloa there was a time where I wore
the same tattered gown for three years!" he remembered his mother scolded him for almost not playing Turtles with Pete.
"Psssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhht. Gimma a break. Rocksteady's move-set is
back and forth and sometimes he jumps. Who cares. You think I'm gonna
jump on some boxes and gimmick this fight? Psssssssssssshhhhhhhht.
Pffffffffffffffffffffffffft, no way, Julio," he remembered, Peter, psssshting and pfffffting as he played Turtles in his room.
"Julio... I... I had a heart attack..." he remembered his father explaining to him as he lay flat on a hospital bed.
Julio was now, also, lying on a hospital bed... just like after his father had his first heart attack.
"I'll clean it up, MOM!" he remembered as he saw the lemon meringue pie all over the kitchen floor.
"Video game? That's the devil's make! You are the WORST person in my
class! I literally actually HATE you Daygo... I actually hate you," yelled Mr. Schett in his brain again.
"Look at that, Julio! Look who's coming up! Kirk Gibson!? Kirk Gibson! Gibson homered!? WOW! He can barely even walk! He just homered!? Wow!" said his dad, amazed, as they watched the 1988 World Series together... six months before his father passed away from his second heart attack.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Dongyschotts-san, I am thirteen years old... I am
not a small child. This level of material shouldn't be allowed in a
place of learning as this. Please explain what manner of farce is
currently happening... I am deeply and utterly confused by your
behavior," he remembered his new friend Matsuo asking his new homeroom teacher.
"It's okay... Julio... it's just a pie," consoled his mother.
RING! RING! RING!
The phone started ringing again! What the hell!? He couldn't answer it! He could not even move!
He imagined himself answering it...
"Hello?" Julio imagined himself saying into the phone.
"Hey, man, how ya doin?" said the deep unfamiliar yet strangely somehow familiar voice.
"I'm... I'm not able to move... and..." explained Julio to the mysterious voice.
"Yeah, yeah... I know. You fell off your bike and hit your head pretty bad... looks like you're gonna have to spend a bit of time here with me for a while, kid," said the mysterious voice.
"Who are you?" asked Julio.
"Me? Hey. I'm... God, Julio..." said the voice.
To Be Continued...
"God? Ohhh... maaaaaan. Am I dead, God?" asked Julio not even really caring that much if he was alive or dead after listening to a phone ring over-and-over for what felt like days on end.
"No, no. You just hit your head... you're gonna be out for a while. Trust me... I got your back, Julio..." said God in a way that made his long-numb spine tingle.
That day on the soccer field when he lifted his hand slowly to the sky and thanked God for giving him the power to entrust all of his national pride into his foot to ever-victoriously kick the ball into the back of the net... God... said that. He heard a voice telling him that.
"God, like yo... that's what you said to me that day! The day when I kicked the ball! The day I won!" exclaimed Julio in disbelief.
"I know... I remember... that was me. Thanks for the shout out, homie..." said God.
"God! God! Is my dad in heaven!? Can you hear my mom's prayers!?" asked Julio.
"Yeah, your dad's here... we hang sometimes... we, like, watch sports n' stuff. Your mom prays a lot... she asks me to watch over you... usually... but sometimes she asks me to help her win the lottery," explained God.
"Yeah, my mom acts like that sometimes... but she's a good person, God, trust me..." said Julio not even caring he was lying in a hospital bed anymore.
"I'm God, you know, I'm pretty omnipotent... you need anything?" asked the powerful and all-knowing God.
"What's that mean? Omni...potent? What is that?" asked Julio to clarify an unclear term God just used.
"It means I can do anything. I can do whatever I want... all kinds of magic... like... you know... blow stuff up... make volcanoes do shit... you know... like anything...." answered God.
"Oh! Like Superman?" asked Julio.
"Yeah, pretty much... like Superman," answered God.
"Oh! Can you give my teacher diarrhea?" asked Julio.
"Of course I could give a teacher some diarrhea... which one?" asked God.
"Uhhh.... Mr. Schett! No! Mrs. Dongyschotts!" stammered Julio not knowing which teacher deserved diarrhea from God more.
"Julio... you're talking to a guy who can do literally anything... and all you want is for me to...?" started God.
"No! Wait! Anything!? Okay...wait...no... give TROY diarrhea, God!" exclaimed Julio.
"Julio...look... I'm not doing that. It's beneath me... I've solved global wars... I've stabilized economies... I've fought Satan like a hundred times... look... I'm not giving some fat lady diarrhea! Okay!?" yelled God.
"Okay, like, whatever, God...whatever," disappointingly answered Julio.
"Julio... look... for real... listen...
You are not a kid anymore, you are gonna be a man soon. I know you don't have a dad anymore and you don't have someone to look up to in your life... but you're getting by alright. Your mother cares about you more than you can know and it looks like you're getting some close friends in your life.
Peter, Woolly-Milton Regular, and the gentle but strong Matsuo...
You four, together, are going to accomplish a lot in your lives. You are basically a Dream Team and don't even know it, yet. Together, you and your friends, are almost unstoppable.
Do you remember when you almost didn't even let Peter come to your house to beat Turtles but your mother intervened? That was fate, Julio. You two were fated to become friends. Fate works in mysterious ways... trust me.
You've already stood up to the worst boys in your school and made them cry. The four of you together? You are a power house... you can solve any problem! You four together? Even I can't believe it. It's not only the teachers, but even your evil-hearted principal, Mr. Dorksmund, is conspiring against your crew. He is weary of your combined strength and is deeply scared of a powerful youth-oriented rebellion.
Julio, there's going to be a big event held at your school, The All-American Mario Championship, and it will be something you will have no choice but to take part in... for the honor and pride of you and your friends. It won't be easy for you... the kids at your school, the teachers, and even your evil principal shall be conspiring against your crew. On top of it all, you won't even be fully healthy by that time... but you have to take part... you can't sit by the rock and pretend to smoke cigarettes. Smoking is really bad for you, by the way, your dad asked me to tell you not to ever smoke real cigarettes.
Oh and... about Woolly-Milton stabbing that kid in the dick with a barbecue fork? Trust me... not only did it never happen... but that stupid kid was acting like a complete moron... it was hard for him to keep cool around a kid acting like such a moron... you can always trust Woolly-Milton Regular... through thick and thin... through peace and war... and never doubt that.
As for Peter? He will always have your back since you gave him that pair of American flag themed jogging pants... never forget that. If you two were in a war together... Peter would literally take an incoming grenade from a grenade-launcher for you. He really would.
Matsuo? He views you as the coolest kid he's ever met. He was very frightened, sitting at the cafeteria table, that fateful day... and views you like a timely-rain who swept down to help him.. he views you as being so cool... even cooler than his friend in Japan who does motocross. That kid is only fifteen and already has his own dirt bike... and he thinks you are twice as cool as that kid... maybe even three times. Never forget that...
Julio...
I wish you luck," said the word of God.
"Wait God! When I wake up will I remember you?" asked Julio.
"No, you won't, Julio..." answered God.
"Can I ask you one more thing? Please?" pleaded Julio.
"Okay... but I can't make your mom win the lottery, bring your dad back to life, or give some fat guy diarrhea... okay?" said God.
"God... what is Hulk Hogan's problem? Like, for real, what is Hulk Hogan's actual problem?" asked Julio of God.
"I dunno, Julio, I know you hate Hulk Hogan but hatred is not my department. That's more Satan's department... the whole hatred thing... it's more for Satan. You shouldn't hate people... but I know what you're asking. Even me, like even me, watching the Mania where Macho Man drops the belt back to him... I was like... what the hell? So, I don't want you to hate people or anything... but... in the case of Hulk Hogan... even I have to ask what that guy's problem is... and I'm God... so," started God.
"Yo, God... he grabbed his tights for a leverage maneuver! This is the guy telling us to pray to you and eat our vitamins! He blatantly cheats in front of everyone's eyes!" pleaded Julio.
"I'll see what I can do. Okay? But... I don't usually do petty things... but... it's so true what you're saying. I saw one match, where he was fighting Boss Man, and Hogan stepped on Boss Man's eye while he was lying on the mat! Who steps on someone's eye!?" said God.
"Back rakes, too, and eye gouges..." Julio said shaking his own head in the hospital bed for the first time in days.
"I know... you're right... this guy tells you to pray to me and then you have to watch him cheat all the time. Macho should've dropped the belt to Flair not to Hogan," said God.
"It's so true, God, it's so true... your word is so pure and so true..." said Julio, now sitting up in his bed, for the first time in days.
He opened his eyes...
He saw his mom...
"Julio!? Are you awake!?" exclaimed his mother.
"Yeah, Mom... I am... I'm... I'm awake," said the groggy Julio.
To Be Continued...
Chapter 8
Do it for Julio...
Meanwhile... in front of Woolly-Milton Regular's house, in the driveway, Woolly-Milton was playing basketball with his friend Matsuo. Woolly-Milton's mother, Mrs. Regular, exited the house to offer Matsuo chips and a refreshing beverage...
"Playing some basketball Woolly? Is that your new friend from Japan? Would you boys like some chips and some root beer?" asked Mrs. Regular.
"Oh, indeed I would, arigato gozaimasu, Mrs. Regular-san," replied the polite Matsuo.
"That means thank you in Japanese, mom," informed Woolly-Milton.
"Okay, Woolly, I'll be back, have fun," said Mrs. Regular.
They began shooting some hoops in his driveway. Matsuo had previously played basketball in Japan, a few times, in gym class... but was not as adept at the game as Woolly-Milton was, who was a stellar basketball player. As Matsuo released his shot from behind the family station wagon in the driveway, which according to Woolly-Milton was three-point range in his driveway, Woolly-Milton leaped high into the air and blocked the shot with relative ease!
"Damn! I'm Dikembe Mutombo! I'm Dikembe dang Mutombo!" yelled Woolly-Milton as he blocked Matsuo's attempted three-pointer.
"Who is Dikembe Mutombo, Woolly-Milton-san?" asked Matsuo.
"He's a rookie in Denver. Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo... he's a blocking machine!" explained Woolly-Milton.
"This name sounds Congolese in origin," said Matsuo as he fixed his out-of-place glasses after his missed three-point attempt from behind the station wagon.
"Could be, Funk, could be," thought Woolly-Milton as he referred to Matsuo by his new nickname, Funk, in regards to his funky moves in regards to both Mario 2 and to soccer.
"It is a shame that Peter-san went back home after school instead of shooting some hoops with us," said Matsuo emphasizing a term as if it was the first time he had ever said it aloud.
"Peter's sad, man, yo, look, check... Peter used to have no friends in our school... then one day him and Julio were like best friends out of nowhere... no one could explain it... when Pete heard that Julio was in a dang coma... he was sad man... like, yo, like... he was like really really sad, man..." said Woolly-Milton with a single tear in his eye.
"Yes... I understand... he wishes to be alone to grieve like a lone wounded samurai who has lost a brethren..." said Matsuo as he, also, wiped a single tear from his eye.
Just then Mrs. Regular sprang from the house almost dropping a bowl of chips!
"Woolly! Woolly! It's Julio! Your best friend from school! He's on the phone! The one you told me who fell off his bike! He's calling you on the phone!" said Mrs. Regular.
"WHAT!?" exclaimed Woolly-Milton as he ran post-haste into his house, in a clamor, to answer the phone call.
"Nani!?" exclaimed Matsuo who ran right behind him.
Woolly-Milton hurriedly answered the phone, almost dropping it several times, before shouting...
"JULIO! JULIO! IS IT REALLY YOU!? ARE YOU OKAY!?" shouted Woolly-Milton into the telephone's receiver.
"Yeah, I'm... I'm still in the hospital Milt... I'm... I'm... I can't walk yet... I..." started Julio.
"We thought you were going to die!" yelled Woolly-Milton.
"I didn't even die, Milt. I just fell off my bike a bit. I just had to go to the hospital because my mom made me... I... I..." started Julio.
"Julio! Me, Pete, n' Mat came to the hospital last week! We saw you! We thought you were literally going to actually fucking, like, literally DIE! Don't lie to me homie!" yelled Woolly-Milton.
"Oh, really? You saw me all lying here all dead and everything?" asked the ashamed Julio.
"Yeah! We did and we were scared! I can't believe you are awake! I can't believe you are talking to me! You're gonna be okay!?" said Woolly-Milton.
"Yeah..." started Julio.
"Yo! Mat's here! He wants me to tell you that he was sendin' up some Shinto prayers for you every mornin', noon, n' night for you to get better!" informed Woolly-Milton.
"Tell him thanks... Milt... look... I called Peter before and told him something... and I have to tell you two this also... so just listen and tell Mat what I said after I'm done..." started Julio still slow to speak after his incident.
"Okay..." said Woolly-Milton with a single tear in his eye anew.
"Milt... like I told Peter on the phone... I had, like, a divine intervention or something... I can't remember what really happened... but... all I know is... is that... our crew is seriously legit," explained Julio to Woolly-Milton Regular.
"Our crew is legit? I know that. Our crew... you, me, Pete, n' Mat... are damn legit! I know that!" agreed Woolly-Milton.
"No, no, no... you don't understand! Our crew is LEGIT for REAL. I was lying in this hospital bed, literally actually DYING... and all I kept saying in my head as I couldn't move, talk, or walk... was... I can't die right now because my crew is too damn legit!" said Julio.
"Damn, for real?" said Woolly-Milton.
"For real... you three have to hold down the fort until I can learn to walk again... keep the Triangle at bay and try to get straight A's... and trust me..." began Julio.
"Yeah?" said Woolly-Milton.
"...I'll be back," proclaimed Julio in his best Schwarzenegger voice right before hanging up.
To Be Continued...
Meanwhile at their local MacDing's... Peter Pannis who was living on the edge of fear and who had lost all hope... was now reinvigorated to better his life. Julio told him, on the phone, before calling Woolly-Milton that the crew was gonna be reunited soon... and Peter wanted to look much cooler for when it finally happened. He wanted Julio to see a cooler kid when he got out of the hospital... and made it his plan to work night shifts after school at MacDing's to make some money. His grandma told him, at thirteen, he was too young to work... and it was true... but... still...
"MacDing's! How can we help you today?" smiled the pretty young woman at the cash register.
"Can I have a job application, please? asked Peter.
"Would you like fries with that... oh! Never mind... yeah... there's a pile of them next to the napkins... actually... don't even bother filling one out... we need people like crazy... you're hired... I'm actually the manager here..." she replied.
"You're the manager? You look like you're sixteen..." replied Peter.
"Sixteen!? Psssht... I'm SEVENTEEN! No-duh HICKEY! Give me a break... how old are you?" she asked.
"I'm thir...I mean...I am fifteen years old, miss!" replied Peter confidently in his lie.
"Look... you can't work the cash because that's what me and my friends do... you can't work the kitchen because that's what my boyfriend and his friends do... we need someone to slop around the grease," explained the sixteen-year-old manager of MacDing's.
"Slop around the grease?" asked Peter.
"Yeah. Slop around the grease with the mop, you know? Like clean up all the grease that's all over the place. Empty the grease trap into the grease bucket and poor the grease bucket into the secret grease landfill out in the back near the other store's garbage and where the old tires are. Watch out when you bring the grease bucket to the grease hole... there's homeless guys out there sometimes," she explained.
"Uh, okay," said Peter who was learning his first job in society would be pouring buckets of grease into a makeshift hole behind some old tires.
"...and also... we hate the lard blocks.... so you do the lard blocks too," she said.
"Lard...blocks?" asked Peter not really liking to say the word Lard out loud.
"Yeah the Grade A MacDing's quality-assured pig fat blocks. You have to dump them right into the fryer after you're supposed to clean out the old fry grease. It splashes around and burns your skin if you throw the lard blocks in too fast..." she explained.
"Okay..." said Peter.
"Okay, Grease Boy, you're hired! Welcome to the staff! Oh wait! Wait... I have to show you the video first... sorry... go in the back and ask the old guy with the watch to show you the video... okay?" explained his new manager.
"Okay........" confusingly replied Peter.
Peter was excited to have his first job but also a bit let down. He thought if his lie worked and they didn't know he was too young to work... he'd look all cool and old as he was serving his friends in a cool MacDing's hat... not burning his skin with lard blocks and dumping buckets of vile fats into secret landfills near some other business's garbage.
Whatever... he thought... it was for Julio! Do it for Julio he kept repeating to himself. Julio was lying motionless for almost two weeks in a hospital bed... the least Peter could do for his best friend... was have cooler clothes when his best friend got back to school so their crew could be more legit.
He found the old man with the watch... and asked him why he was known as the guy with the watch...
"I've worked at MacDing's for twenty five years! Hahahahaha! They give you a watch if you do that!" bragged the old watch guy.
"What's your job here, now?" asked Peter.
"I dunno... sometimes I change the cashes for the young kids because they don't know much math and can't add up their sales to their current cash on hand... and uh.... oh! I show the new people the video!" explained watch guy.
The old man with the watch he was awarded for working at MacDing's for twenty five years popped a VHS tape into a small TV mounted onto a large wheelable rack. The video was...odd.
At first Peter thought it was a joke... like something the band Devo would think of in a music video to make fun of corporate franchise training videos... but then he realized this was a real corporate franchise training video... as he watched a self-described "super cool" MacDing's employee on the screen in sunglasses and a MacDing's uniform explain to him how to properly dispose of the grease in the building after making hundreds of burgers, chicken nuggets, and fries all day long. They had procedures where they had a truck outside that handles waste products and they didn't use buckets... they had big plastic containers, safety gloves for hot grease, and protective eye wear.
It wasn't like what his manager told him he was supposed to do what-so-ever... but... he figured it was mandatory that they had to show him this before he could start working.
"Uh, Mr. ummm... Mr. Watch Guy... can I, like, start now?" Peter asked Watch Guy.
"Yeah... I think so... they told me you're the new Grease Boy while you were watching the tape... uh... the bucket is over there... and the lard blocks are in the freezer next to the fry boxes...ok? Bye." replied Watch Guy... as if this was the first and last time he'd ever speak to Peter.
Peter looked at the grease bucket... it was dirty and smelled... it used to be white, he thought, but now was gunked-over in years and years of vile fats. He grabbed it and went into the kitchen...
"Grease Boy! Wooooo! Here comes the Grease Boy! Wooooooo!" said a dopey burger-grilling teenager older-than-him as he pointed to a part of the grill that was filled with grease.
Peter looked at it, stupified, and had no idea what to do. The guy with sunglasses in the training video had to screw the grease trap off with a screw-driver and use safety gloves to empty the grease into the bright shiny plastic buckets to load onto the waste truck.
"Take the grease trap off!" yelled his manager.
"Uh....what?" asked Peter.
"We don't screw it on like in the video! We have to empty that thing FIVE TIMES A DAY! There's no point to put the fucking screws back in each time! Just take the trap off and fill the bucket with the shit and throw it where I told you! Next to the tires! Watch out for the homeless guys! GOD!" yelled his new manager as she was trying to train a new employee while simultaneously taking orders from customers.
"Uh.. okay... just... okay," said Peter as he took off the over-flowing grease trap from the grill unit and poured the boiling hot vile fat into a gunk bucket... all the while... saying to himself... do it for Julio, do it for Julio, do it for Julio.
"Nice pour, Grease Boy! Ow! Now take it out back... you'll see where to pour it, little bro, there's like a hole, you can't miss it, it's covered with some old boards and wooden palettes. Just move the board, NOT THE PALETTES, and pour the grease into the opening... and don't fall into the hole either!" said the burger-flipper guy who took out one ear-phone off his Walkman to tell Peter this critical information.
"Okay..." said the now pretty down Peter who accepted his role as Grease Boy.
He walked with the bucket, now his bucket, which had now cooled down and wasn't hot enough to scald his skin, out the back door... he saw the tires they were talking about about 20 feet away near another business's garbage. The bucket was heavy and he felt odd carrying it... like it was work... like you hear about on TV... like full-fledged work.
He got to the hole covered in old grease-soaked palettes and boards. It was a way to hide from the other business that they were pouring grease into a hole... but... looking at the other business's garbage... he didn't think they'd care if grease was back here. Their garbage was weird-ass shit that most people don't throw away... gross-ass shit... and grease was the least weird thing back here.
He kicked the board in the center off the palettes and saw the hole for the first time.
"Whoa!" Peter said.
It was like ten feet deep and ten feet wide! Half-way full of vile fat! Whoa! Some was dry, on the lower-layers, and some was hot and fresh floating on top of the old dry layer.
He poured the vile fat into the pit of fat and went back to his place of work. Next, he remembered his other duty, was to dump square blocks of lard into the deep fryer. In the video, the guy in the sunglasses, emptied the old grease out and disposed of it in a safe and clean manner... he wondered if he would do it that way...
"Uh... can I do the lard now?" asked Peter as he walked back into his place of work.
"Yeah, you can, but don't do it like the video. Just, like, unwrap the lard block and throw it into the old grease and jump back so the grease splash doesn't burn you..." said his new manager who after doing one task at his official new job felt like she was already his war buddy.
"We don't drain the old grease out first and dump it in the fat hole?" asked Peter innocently.
"What!? No! There's a lineup of twenty customers in here! You think we can just shut the fry fryer off? How will we give them fries? If we shut that off and drain the old shit out... you're talking about like fifteen minutes! If these people have to wait fifteen minutes to get food we could have a literal fucking RIOT!" she said.
Peter finally understood what fast food meant... it meant make it really fast or in-hurry people will go insane. He ran to the freezer and remembered that Watch Guy told him the blocks of fresh lard were next to the fry boxes. He found them!
"Grade A Pig Lard, MacDing's Seal of Approval," he read out loud to make sure he found the right thing in the freezer.
He rushed out of the freezer and threw the box on a table! He hurriedly unwrapped the lard from the packaging... it was mushy and felt weird to handle... he quickly dumped the lard into the deep fryer and jumped back safe and sound! The new lard made a splash and a loud sound! Everyone in the kitchen congratulated him!
"Yeah! Oh yeah! Woooo! Get that lard in the fryer, baby, yeah! Grease Boy! Yeah!" they all yelled as they either flipped burgers or put fries into little bags.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead...
"All in a day's work," said Peter proudly.
To Be Continued...
Finally, after five hours, Peter's shift ended! He asked his manager how much money he gets...
"Well, five hours, times...uhhh... four....uhhh dollars.... it's...." started his manager who was bad at math.
"Four times five is twenty..." interjected Peter.
"Yeah, so you get twenty bucks for today. We get paychecks every two weeks...so... if you work five days per week at uuhhh... twenty bucks per day... every paycheck you'll get...uhhh...." she started.
"Two hundred bucks..." said Peter as he solved the equation for her.
Peter couldn't believe it. If he emptied a bucket into a hole a few times a day and threw lard into a fryer for two weeks... he'd actually get two hundred dollars?
"Whoa... two hundred bucks? I've never even seen two hundred bucks... whooaaaa...." said Peter.
"Anyways shifts over... you wanna come drink and smoke with us at our rock?" asked his manager.
They had a rock? Like he and his friends had? They were older kids though... they probably smoked real cigarettes at their rock though instead of just pretending to smoke cigarettes. His manager was really pretty and made Peter nervous... he wanted to say no but his words betrayed him.
"Yeah! I want to smoke at the rock! Yeah!" he responded to her.
"Okay cool... me, Franky, Carla, Howie and Jimmy are all going... oh, by the way, my name's Kate," said Kate his manager.
"I'm Peter!" said Peter.
"Peter? Cool name... sure beats Grease Boy," said Kate as she closed the cash, took out the money and coins and gave it to Watch Guy to count.
"Yo! Greasy Pete! Let's go to the rock n' smoke!" said Franky.
The crew of MacDing's all went out the back, walked passed the vile fat hole, and all sat against a cool looking rock that was even bigger and funner to lean on than the rock Peter and his friends pretended to smoke cigarettes at school was. Peter tried his best to act two years older than he claimed he was... he leaned coolly against the rock and filtered his thoughts before he spoke so he didn't talk about Ninja Turtles or some sort of other greasy kid's stuff. The older kids began to speak...
"Hahaha! Ugly dude came in again! Hahaha! He's so ugly! Hahaha," laughed Jimmy.
"Yeah! He always orders the fish shit," said Kate, who to Peter, was like an angel of beauty and every word out of her porcelain face sounded like a symphony.
"I hate making the fish shit... no one ever orders it except for ugly dude and the Arabic guys who can't eat meat on Fridays," said Howie.
"Here Greasy Pete... take a cig... you earned it," said Frank as he passed him a cigarette, a real cigarette.
Peter let Franky light it for him as he watched the embers turn bright orange in front of his eyes. It was majestic... he took a puff just like he and his friends pretended at their rock at school. He started coughing but using all his will-power to not look like it was the first time he puffed a cigarette, he managed to will himself to stop caughing. He began to swallow over-and-over-and-over... he couldn't stop swallowing for some reason... but the older kids didn't notice he was having this reaction.
"I got so drunk last weekend! Hahahahaha! I love peach schnapps!" laughed Carla.
Peter heard their laughter and faked a few laughs along with the others, whilst still swallowing over-and-over-and-over... until...
BLAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! He puked! He puked, all over the place! He puked all the food he ate when he thought they weren't looking! He ate the food so fast so they wouldn't see him eating all that free MacDing's out of those greasy yellow trays they have to keep meat warm, that one of the nuggets wasn't even chewed! He puked a whole chicken nugget! Not only that but he was so nervous on his first shift at his first job that he was biting his nails the whole five hours straight... he saw his own finger nails in his puke! He had never been so anxious before... it was the weirdest feeling he ever felt... sitting with cool older kids and all he could think about is if they'd noticed he ate some food when they weren't looking and hoping they didn't notice that he bites his nails!
His life was over...
"Damn, Grease Boy! Hahahahaha... that's exactly how I was on the weekend! Hahahaha... I puked all over my bathroom when I got home! Hahahaha!" laughed Carla who didn't seem to care at all that he just puked.
"Go puke in the fat hole next time, Greasy Pete, don't puke at the rock!" chastised Jimmy.
Peter Pannis was in over his head... he didn't like being old... he hated being older... he wanted to be young again... he wanted to go back to being a kid as quickly as he could... but... he just sat there thinking about the twenty bucks he just made. They didn't even seem to care that he just hurled... let alone notice a whole chicken nugget and finger nails in it.
"Uhhh... I gotta get going... uhhh... I'll see you... uhhh.... cool guys tomorrow... okay? Bye," said Peter who needed to make a hasty exit realizing hanging out with older kids was too much for him to handle.
"Okay, see you tomorrow, Greasy," said Kate.
"Bye, Kate, uh, bye," said Peter as he made a fast-break for home.
To Be Continued...
Two days later...
After another uneventful day at school Woolly-Milton and Mat were back a Woolly-Milton's playing video games...
"Peter-san is acting in a strange manner, Woolly-san, even more than usual..." discouragingly said Matsuo.
"Hmmm... he fell asleep, straight up, in Dongy's class today while she was talking about how The Smurfs teach us valuable dang life lessons or something. He looks so out of it... and the things he was telling us at the rock, and at lunch, man... it was weird," agreed Woolly-Milton.
Peter told them, at their rock, that when he was little his long-lost parents used to call him Peter Pan and told him he can be a kid for as long as he wanted to be. He told Woolly-Milton and Matsuo that he wanted to be like Peter Pan... again... he explained that we are in a such a rush to get old, look old, and act old... that we lose sight of what we had. When all of the hustle and bustle of growing up hits you like a ton of bricks... we lose touch with who we really are.
"All that never-never land stuff? It was sort of true what he was saying though. One day you're laughing and playing hopscotch... and the next? Every kid is scared of you and hates you because some moron made up that you stabbed them in the dick with a damned barbecue fork at the school cook out..." said Woolly-Milton as he shook his head.
"Growing up is not easy. Life of an adult in Japan is constant work... I only ever speak to my father-san when he calls me from work... we should play video games while we still can... I shall show you how to defeat Mario 2. You made it to level six last time... you are almost capable of great feats of incredible prowess yet need more practice," explained Matsuo.
As Woolly-Milton went to get Mario 2 from his NES collection a very interesting commercial came upon the TV screen! A man in a red, white, and blue track suit began talking about nintendo!
"He has the same American pants as Peter-san!" exclaimed Matsuo.
"No, those are track pants... Peter has American flag jogging pants. Yo! Is he talking about nintendo?" inquisitively stated Woolly-Milton Regular as he ate some salt and vinegar flavored potato chips.
"The Global American World Nintendo Championship: Mario Meltdown Edition is coming to your state! It might even be coming to your school! Nintendo players from all across the global United States shall compete in a pan-American world tournament to see who is the greatest Mario player in the entire world!" said the nintendo man in the American-themed track suit on the TV screen.
"Say...what!?" said Woolly-Milton.
"Nani!?" said Matsuo.
"It is going to be a Mario Gauntlet! Mario 1, Mario 2... and the brand-new Super Mario Bros. 3! Teams of up to four stalwart nintendo fans will compete to see who can beat all three games the fastest! It's going to be a Mario Meltdown! Mario Mania! Best of all? It's going to happen in high schools in every state! Three schools will be selected per state to hold this exquisite championship! Will it be your school!?" the man in the commercial explained as fast as he could to fit all of those words into the thirty-second advertisement.
"Mario... three? There's a Mario...three?" asked Woolly-Milton.
"Yes, yes. In Japan, on Famicom, there is now a game called Mario 3... yes, indeed. Hmmm... this is very interesting, indeed. Indeed..." nodded Matsuo.
"A Mario championship? A Mario tournament? A Mario...meltdown? A new Mario!?" said Woolly-Milton not even really believing what he was hearing.
"Imagine, Woolly-san? One of the schools is ours?" excitingly said Matsuo.
"Yeah, right, Funk... don't get your hopes up... nothing cool ever happens at our lame-ass school, Funk..." replied Woolly-Milton shaking his head again.
"You are right. Let us not raise our hopes... let us, instead, play Super Mario Bros. 2..." defeatingly stated Matsuo.
Meanwhile at the hospital...
Julio still couldn't get out of bed. He sat up, for the first time in a long time, and ate his tray of hospital food. It was greying beef, or pork, or something... with a brown sauce... lemon water... and string beans... no dessert.
"Ugh," said Julio.
On the television in his hospital room... the same commercial came on the screen. His reaction was unlike those of Woolly-Milton and Matsuo... something inside his mind and body... stirred... in a way he couldn't explain. It was almost as if... he knew... this was going to happen.
"A... Mario Meltdown? A Global American World Nintendo Championship?" he said incredulously as he watched the man in the American flag-themed track suit explain the current situation in America regarding nintendo.
Something inside of himself knew that this was not only going to happen at his school but that it was of the utmost importance... almost as if he could hear the reverberations of his own heart as the nintendo man spoke!
"I...I...I have to get better... before this happens... I have to... I need to... I need to get BETTER!" said Julio as he forced himself to eat the greying meat and mushy string beans.
Five hours later... outside of MacDing's...
"You coming to the rock Peter?" asked Kate, his manager, even though she knew the answer.
"No, I... uhhh... I have a big exam at school tomorrow... I have to go home," said Peter.
Peter made it through his first week at his first job. He hated it but he was getting used to it... the commercial he saw before leaving for work was echoing through his brain... The Global American World Nintendo Championship... it was like the World Series of Mario... he thought. What a great event! Imagine, it somehow, or someway... was held at their school?
He made it home... almost broken and defeated. His best friend was still in the hospital, he was falling asleep in school, messing up routine assignments, getting bad grades, and was a dirty-dirty Grease Boy at night to make money to afford new clothes. The only thing helping him get through his misery was his favorite VHS tape.
He popped it into his VCR atop his tiny television in his bedroom... it was the only thing keeping him going... it was...
...Mr. T's Be Somebody... or Be Somebody's Fool!
This was a REAL training video not like the one they showed him before he started working... which had nothing to do with what he actually had to do at work. This video actually prepared him for life in a tangible and functional way... and he watched it every single night.
He was too tired to even play video games. He went to school, to work... ate something at work... then came home, watched Mr. T's Be Somebody... or Be Somebody's Fool!... and then promptly went to sleep to repeat the routine the next day.
Mr. T's voice echoed through his small room on low volume as to not wake up Peter's ill grandmother...
"If anybody tries to call you square! Just look'em in the eyes n' tell 'em you don't care!
If you don't wanna be a crazy fool! You better study real hard n' stay in school!
Now everybody knows Mr. T don't lie n' it 'aint no fun just scrapin' by!
So if you wanna be cool just like me! You better try real hard to be Somebody!" said Mr. T.
Peter was filled with the strength and will of one hundred champions every single night!
To Be Continued...
Meanwhile in the teacher's lounge, high atop the school, our three evil-hearted trouble-makers were up to their usual treachery! Principal Dorksmund, Mrs. Dongyschotts, and Mr. Schett were enjoying cocktails and scheming in their lair of misdeeds and deception. Mr. Schett and Mrs. Dongyschotts were appalled that Principal Dorksmund had recently accepted the offer for The Global American World Nintendo Championship to be held at their school.
"Are you joking!? A video games competition!? Are you out of your damn mind!?" asked Mr. Schett.
"Surely you jest!?" exclaimed Mrs. Dongyschotts.
"I'm not joking, now look..." said the evil Principal Dorksmund with his slender evil hands inter-weaved together and slightly in front of his menacing face.
"...I have hired a ringer. The winner of a local video game tournament held at a family-run video rental store that my informants have suggested to me... it was from three years ago... he is older now... he's no longer a high school student... but he has agreed to pretend to be younger and to join our school for three weeks only..." started the evil Dorksmund.
"...a ringer?" asked Mr. Schett as he sipped his rum and coke.
"Yes, a ringer, if you will. A plant designed to bring us victory. I have paid him ten thousand dollars from the school's coffers... the money that is usually used for the friday school cookouts. We shall be cancelling them all until further notice. I will place the ringer in a group with Troy, Tex, and Trent... for his name also starts with the letter T... his name is... Thor Backlund!" said Principal Dorksmund as he unhatched his evil plan.
"Looks like your new serpent's egg has already started to hatch, hahahahaha!" cackled the twisted Mrs. Dongyschotts.
"Yes, as soon as I saw that commercial on television with the fellow in the American flag themed track suit... I knew I could use it as a stepping stone... to re-establish our control! Hahahaha!" laughed the villainous Dorksmund.
"Getting our favorite hand-picked students back to being our unofficial disciplinarians shall save us much work and effort in the future. It is ten thousand well spent. The under-privileged and visible minority students morale has been much too high lately. Thankfully that wet-back Daygo fell off his bike... and might even die... but we still have to put the other riff-raff back in their rightful place!" proclaimed Mr. Schett.
"My ringer shall win the video games championship for the glory of our honor students... and usher in a new era of Order to our student body..." foreboded the evil Principal.
One week later, at the cafeteria....
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Gaywads and losers! We have an announcement!" proclaimed Troy while standing in the center of the cafeteria during the school's lunch hour.
"What in the world?" asked Peter, half-asleep, weary from sloppin' around the grease at MacDing's the night before.
"Looks like the douchebags have some sort of proclamation or some shit," wondered Woolly-Milton.
"They probably would like to announce to their fellow classmates that they are terrible at soccer and are very very stupid," suggested Matsuo.
"Hahahahahaha, good one Funk," laughed Woolly-Milton Regular.
"Hahaha.... or that they finally got to World 3 in Mario 2!" said Peter.
"This oughta be good..." said Woolly-Milton as he put down his sandwich and listened.
"Let it be known to the entirety of the student body at large that we are no longer known as the Triangle of T! For as of right now and likely forever... we are no longer three members but are now FOUR and thus, geometrically, can no longer be known as a triangle for we now have four vertices on our great corners of awesomeness! We publicly announce to you all... that THOR... is our fourth member...of the... QUADRANGLE OF T!" proclaimed Troy raising his right arm in a very deliberate and uneasy manner.
Thor Backlund, the eighteen year old ringer paid ten thousand dollars to re-attend high school just to partake in a video game competition stood up and raised his right hand into the air! The four members of the Quadrangle stood, very prominently, raising their right arms to the sky.
"Damn... they're four now? We're outnumbered! Without Julio we're just three people... we can't beat them at any challenge with our present numbers," worried Peter.
"This is bad... they are growing more powerful by the week... while we just sit here praying that Julio comes back to school," also worried Woolly-Milton.
"We must be wary of them until Julio returns and not provoke them unnecessarily while our crew is not operating at full capacity," suggested the clever Matsuo.
"Agreed," nodded Peter and Woolly-Milton in agreement.
"For our SECOND announcement..." proclaimed Tex of the Quadrangle.
"What now?" wondered Peter aloud.
"The Global American World Nintendo Championship shall be held in the auditorium in three weeks! Anyone who would like to compete has to sign up by the end of this week! No one can defeat us so you will be wasting your time! The Quadrangle of T, now with Thor Backlund, the greatest Nintendo wizard in our state shall reign victorious and anyone else signing up to compete with us is out of their minds!" proclaimed Tex to the student body.
"WHAT!?" exclaimed Woolly-Milton.
"No way... The Global American World Nintendo Championship? Here!? In OUR school!? It just simply cannot be!" said Peter in disbelief.
"...." said the speechless and in shock Matsuo.
"We have to sign up! Pete... you and Mat are the greatest video games players I have ever seen with my very own two eyes! We have to sign up! I'm going right now to sign us up! I'm putting Julio's name too! He'll be back in three weeks... I just know it!" shouted Woolly-Milton with glee as he sprang up in a clamor, forgetting his half-eaten sandwich, to sign their crew up for The Global American World Nintendo Championship!
To Be Continued...
Chapter 9
The Cookout Rap Battle
At the hospital, things were picking up for Julio who's mother, the gentle and caring Juanita, had brought him his nintendo so he could hook it up and play it in the hospital. She bought him Dragon Warrior II as he requested. She tried to find Super Mario Bros. 3 for him like he saw on the commercial but it wasn't available at any stores yet. She even tried Woolworth's!
Julio spent his bed-ridden days playing Dragon Warrior II, which according to Matsuo was a very popular title in Japan but there it is known as Dragon Quest II. The game was very difficult but all Julio had was time. He called Matsuo from time to time to ask for help beating it.
His mother was bringing him tacos, fajitas, lasagne, tortillas and five bean casseroles... which was helping him regain his strength. At one in the afternoon... a nurse would bring him by wheelchair to a room with padded railing on the wall to try and walk a few steps while holding on to the padded rails... he managed to take eight steps last time before his body conked out.
Life was hard but he was trying his best to get out of the hospital. Peter had called to tell him The Global American World Nintendo Championship was going to be held at their school... and he assured Peter that he already somehow knew that. He told him it was fate... it was fated to happen.
Peter didn't tell anyone that he was working at MacDing's, not even Julio when he called him, for he didn't want anyone to know he was a dirty grease boy sloppin' around that slop.
After two weeks, Peter received his first pay cheque! He promptly went to the mall and bought new clothes. It was a black and gold dress shirt, black jeans, and Italian loafers with pointed toes! It cost him almost his whole pay cheque... with the rest he purchased an imitation gold chain like the ones Mr. T wore.
When he arrived at school no one could believe it was him!
"Hey baby! Uhhhh.... EW! PETER PENIS!?" said the mean blonde girl.
He walked right by her to his crew who were as equally in shock to see Peter, known forever at their school as Jogging Pants Boy... calmly and non-chalantly strolling into the building wearing a black and gold dress shirt, black jeans, and cool pointy Italian shoes.
"Damn Pete! Why are those shoes so damn pointy!? Is it to get into the corners of a room to kill cockroaches!?" asked Woolly-Milton in awe.
"Haha, no, Woolly... these are imported from Italy... people there wear pointy shoes..." calmly explained Peter who was now speaking suavely to match his attire.
"Are you of Italian origin, Peter-San?" asked Matsuo.
"A little on my mom's side... I think... my dad was like one-third Greek though... which is pretty close to Italy..." explained Peter as he wiggled his new gold-plated imitation chain.
"You look so cool, dude!" said Woolly-Milton almost freaking out.
They proceeded to their homeroom and bumped into the new kid, Thor Backlund, on his way to class.
"Hey new kid... what homeroom are you in?" asked Peter.
"I'm in Mr. Schett's gifted class... he has set up what he calls The Mario Lab in his homeroom... there's five nintendos in there... for cool guys... cough... uhh.... I mean cool kids... like us... the gifted kids..." stammered Thor not really even trying to act younger, his voice so deep, monotone, and un-kid like.
"A Mario Lab? What?" asked Woolly-Milton.
"Yeah... fellow kids... they pre-ordered five copies of Super Mario Bros. 3 from the distributor itself, Mr. Schett told me it cost them almost two hundred bucks for each copy, that's how in demand the game is right now... it hasn't even been officially released to stores yet," explained Thor.
"They have Mario 3 in Mr. Schett's homeroom!? That's not fair! We aren't in that class! How come only his class has Mario 3!?" demanded Peter.
"...Because, that's just the way it is," calmly and coldly explained Thor the new "kid."
They proceeded, angrily, to their homeroom where instead of getting to train at Mario 3 in a secret Mario Lab... they'd probably be watching some horrible movie from the sixties or learning how to comb their hair and practice good hygiene.
They sat down at their desks as class begun for the day...
"Ding dong! Welcome to school! We will have a beautiful day today my boys and girls," sang-spoke Mrs. Dongyschotts.
They all rolled their eyes...
"Now, as you have heard, on the inter-com... our monthly friday night cook outs were almost cancelled but we asked each student to make an itsy-bitsy five dollar monthly donation which was added straight to their supply and registration fee... so... we will be having the cook out after all! YAY!" stated Mrs. Dongyschotts as she danced in place like a moron.
"Most of us don't even go to the cookout... my mom was mad that there was a new fee added without explanation... we don't even like the cookouts," said a student with bushy eye brows.
"What a silly-willy ninny-winny! You are a party pooper and a spoil sport!" chastised Mrs. Dongyschotts.
"...." said the student with bushy eyebrows as he gave up his protest almost before it even started.
"Plus! Get ready for this! The Quadrangle, our wonderful peppy honor-roll students, shall be preforming a show. It is a rap show!" she excitingly stated.
"Now this I gotta see..." said Woolly-Milton Regular under his breath to his friends.
"Aren't you banned from those?" asked Peter.
"Naw, I 'aint even banned, I just got sick of going because that kid was pissing me off... I don't like it at all when suckers be fooling around while I'm cooking my food! I don't play-around around food. I take food, especially barbecue, very very very seriously. I lose my temper quickly when people be acting the fool when I'm cooking hot dogs or hamburgers. I stopped going because that kid was spraying the mustard and ketchup bottles around, getting condiments on people's clothes, and pretending he was messing with people's food! I hate people who mess with people's food! Food is a sacred thing!" explained Woolly-Milton as his voice began rising.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Woolly-Milton?" condescendingly asked Mrs. Dongyschotts.
"No... actually yes... I shall be attending the cook out... I haven't been for a while due to an unforeseen mishap but it's time I start attending the friday night cook outs once again... I wanna see that Quadrangle try to rap... and if they allow me... I shall bust off a few rhymes of my own..." proudly stated Woolly-Milton.
"....." replied Mrs. Dongyschotts as if she couldn't wait to go inform her liege, Principal Dorksmund, of this upsetting turn of events.
Peter was a bit sad, for he had to work and wouldn't be able to be there. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Woolly-Milton and Matsuo that he wouldn't be able to go. As he looked around the class he could even see the tide turning... the other students were also angry. They knew the other homeroom was playing Mario 3 right now... they knew something was off with the new kid who spoke in a gruff and monotone voice... and they hated that they were forced to "donate" five bucks a month out of nowhere to eat hot dogs and hamburgers, once a month, on friday... Peter could actually see the other students switching sides in-their-minds right in front of his very eyes. He remembered what Julio told them, to keep their adversaries at bay until he returned, and wished he had the soul-intensity and burning inner-spirit of Woolly-Milton!
"I'm going back to the cook out! I'm gonna grill some barbecue! I'm going to bring pickles... and if they allow me to.. I am going to RAP!" proudly proclaimed Woolly-Milton Regular.
To Be Continued...
At the grey and lifeless Hospital, Julio's morale was at an all-time low...
He knew his best friends were probably holding down the fort and wished more-than-anything that he could be with his best friends. Somewhere inside, he knew they needed him.
It was almost one o'clock in the afternoon, it was becoming routine, now, his life here... and he knew, it was time to be transferred-with-aid to his wheel chair and be brought by the nurse to the room with the padded-railings so he could re-learn to walk if possible.
It's been weeks now... he knew at this point... that he probably and likely wouldn't get better. His mother, the ever-gentle Juanita, left a mix-tape of music for the nurse to play while he tried to walk. He wasn't excited... he knew what it was gonna be on that tape ... that lame Mexican music she tried to get him to enjoy... some of that stuff even had accordions in it...
...he would prefer to stay in bed and finish Dragon Warrior II... than to pretend he could re-learn how to walk again. At least in Dragon Warrior... he could walk, and fight, and get experience points... unlike in real life. You could go gambling in Dragon Warrior also... which was fun... he actually got the gold card... after getting three suns in the lottery... but hated it... even something as great as that made him sad... he felt as though he didn't deserve this item... he felt he didn't even deserve good things in video games at this point... he hated the fact that everyone in this game's world was scared of the arch-fiend... while he was just playing the lottery all day long...
...and as soon as he got the gold card from the lottery he cursed this unjust world over-and-over... he didn't deserve anything... then he threw the gold card away... into the ocean... and pretended to watch the insignificant item float away... in the game. He pretended to watch this insignificant item float away for a significant amount of time.
...he was scared too... in real life... he felt like the people in the game who were scared of impending foreseeable doom... in his real life... he was fearful of so many people... people and concepts he considered as being arch-fiends... like in Dragon Warrior II.
The nurse came in, he already had grown tired of this pointless routine... but he knew he had to do it... he knew he had to be helped into the wheel chair and go to the walking room...
"Julio, your mom gave me a tape to play today as you walk... she couldn't be here today... she told me she had to go back to work or she'd lose her job," explained the kind nurse.
His mom was trying hard... and he knew it. He couldn't stop himself from shedding tears... he was ashamed of his condition.
The nurse helped transfer him to his wheel chair and brought him to the walking room...
"I think it's Spanish or Latin music on this... your mother told me," said the kind nurse as she pushed his wheel chair down the hall.
"It's... it's... Mexican......" corrected Julio.
"I tried to get you moving the other day, with up-beat numbers, but music isn't really the thing that gets you going... your eyes and smile are only happy... I noticed... when you play nintendo or when your friends call..." said the kind nurse as she shook her head.
"I know...but... I'm gonna try harder today... Ms. Kimberly... I am going to try harder...I... I promise..." said Julio sadly.
They made it to the room with the padded railings where he was safe to try and get up and take a few steps out of his wheel chair. The nurse helped him out of his chair, tied a safety belt around his waist, and hoped he could take some steps on his own. She put the mix tape his mother made for him into the audio system.
Julio tried his best but couldn't move much... his brain wouldn't let his body listen to him. The nurse knew it wasn't going well and wasn't too hard on him... Ms. Kimberly just held him... and hoped.
The Mexican mix-tape, his mom made for him, wasn't really the type of stuff Julio was into... he was born in The United States of America... and didn't even speak much Spanish, really. His mom's personalized walking mix-tape was annoying more than anything... the songs were repetitive and annoying always about salsa-this and salsa-that... one was about wait for tomorrow ... manana-this and manana-that... one was about water... agua-this and agua-that... it made him annoyed and more tired listening to his mom's annoying mix-tape... he just wanted to tell sweet Ms. Kimberly that he wanted to go back to his room and play more Dragon Warrior II...
...until the next song came on...
"Algo me pasa, no consigo dormirTomo tu foto y me tiro al sofáVoy a romperlaEl aire se me va, ja-ah-jaFrente a su casa, tú le hablabas, te viLa acorralabas, te olvidabas de mÃSalà corriendoNo pude resistir, ja-ah-jaElla es mi amiga y no te importóElla es amiga mÃa, la mejorFuiste a buscarla para hablarle de amorBesos de ceniza, alma quebradizaOjos de inocente, corazón que mienteComo los bandidos te deslizasBesos de ceniza, alma quebradizaOjos de inocente, corazón que mienteTodo de repente se hace trizasBesos de ceniza, ja, jaFueron promesas, cuentos de cristalFrágil tu modo de amarrarte de mÃLo he visto todoNo me puedes mentir, no-oh-hoElla es mi amiga y no te importóElla es amiga mÃa, la mejorFuiste a buscarla para hablarle de amorBesos de ceniza, alma quebradiza Ojos de inocente, corazón que mienteComo los bandidos te deslizasBesos de ceniza, alma quebradizaOjos de inocente, corazón que mienteTodo de repente se hace trizasBesos de cenizaAlma quebradizaOjos de inocenteCorazón que mienteTodo de repente se hace trizasBesos de ceniza, haAlma quebradiza, haComo los bandidos te deslizasBesos de cenizaOjos de inocenteTodo de repente se hace trizasBesos de ceniza"
-Timbiriche, 1987
This song, spoke to him, in a way he never even felt before. He always heard his dad humming this... he heard his mom humming this... this was his people's song!
He took a step, Fuiste a buscarla para hablarle de amor! He took a bigger step with his other foot!
He took another step! Besos de ceniza! His other foot followed behind him!
He took another step! Alma quebradiza! His other foot followed and then out-paced his lead-foot!
Nurse Kimberly couldn't believe it!
He took a step, Fuiste a buscarla para hablarle de amor! He felt a groove!
He took another step! Besos de ceniza! He realized he is Mexican!
He took another step! Alma quebradiza! The music of his people and homeland was in his body!
Besos de ceniza!
Alma quebradiza!!
He could not deny it!
"That's it, Julio! Keep going!" encouraged nurse Kimberly as Julio pushed off of the padded-railing on the wall, turned-around, and walked back to his wheel chair!
"I am Mexican! My father is Roberto! My mother is JUANITA! I am home... I feel ALIVE... I am who I am! I am ME!" proudly stated Julio at loud.
He let go of the railing for a second and took two whole steps without holding on to anything! He knew the words of this song! He remembered all the Spanish they taught him as a small kid.
"My brittle soul... he took another step without holding onto anything... my... my innocent eyes... he took another step while looking at his wheel chair as a goal he could reach... just trying to make his way back to it... my... my own human heart... to my own self...lies? YES! My own heart does lie to me! I lay here feeling sorry for myself! All day long! My own human heart LIES TO ME! I need to take another step!" said Julio to his own heart and mind.
Julio kept walking and walking...he realized at that moment that not only was he American... but he was also Mexican too! He felt free in his own body for the first time in his life! He was walking on his own! Free and at ease... like he always wanted to be!
He couldn't hold it in any longer... he could not hold his feelings inside any longer... as he pushed off of the railing and walked on his legs further than he's walked in many weeks he yelled out to the sky above...
"Besos de ceniza! Ojos de inocente! Todo de repente se hace trizas! Tear it up! Rip it all up and tear it down!" Julio shouted, at the top of his lungs, to the sky above... as he pushed himself to last step... back to his wheel chair and sat back down.
"...." said nurse Kimberly.
"How many... how many steps did I take... today....?" asked Julio.
"51..." answered nurse Kimberly in slight-shock that he willed himself to push himself to that level of intensity today.
"Good," smiled Julio.
To Be Continued...
A few days later at the Friday Night School Cook Out...
The picnic tables were set immaculately with napkins, plastic forks, and plastic knives. Many barbecues were puffing smoke and producing exquisite hot dogs and delicious hamburgers. The side dishes, brought by students who's mothers or step-mothers wanted to contribute, were vast. They included potato salad, regular salads, macaroni and cheese, macaroni salad, baked beans, coleslaws of various ingredients, french-fried potatoes, potato chips, and also tortilla chips. As far as dips and condiments went... as far as the eye could see... there were red ketchup bottles on every picnic table as well as yellow mustard bottles. There was onion dip, salsa, vinegar, and salad dressings. As far as refreshing beverages... there were soda pops of all sorts from cola to flavored-varieties such as orange Nehi.
Woolly-Milton and Matsuo were let down that Peter couldn't come and were worried about him but at this point they were used to him going missing for long stretches of time after school and had stopped wondering too much about it... maybe his grandma needed more help or something they had figured.
Woolly-Milton put his jar of pickles, he brought from home, on a picnic table. He and Matsuo each acquired two hot dogs each, two cheese burgers each, some french fries, some coleslaw, and two big orange Nehis.
They ate them and enjoyed them.
As they looked to the stage they could see the Quadrangle setting up their surprisingly expensive sound system. They were not prepared for what the Quadrangle's rap would be... in fact... it came as a bit of a surprise... to say the least. The Quadrangle arrived on the make-shift stage and proceeded to cut a horrifically unflattering dis-track on Julio and his friends. It came as a surprise to many. Previously, Woolly thought he'd laugh at some lame old jock-rap about sports or some New Kids on the Block style boy-band rap... he wasn't expecting an entire concert devoted to insulting his crew... when it finally began... he dropped his cheese burger in his paper plate and watched the concert with mouth agape!
"Are y'all ready for the MARIO MELTDOWN!?" yelled Tex into the microphone to start the rap concert.
The crowd cheered and many yelled that they were.
"Well now... I'm gonna tell you who ISN'T.
It's not me, for sure, it's someone DISTANT.
A Mexican kid who's now all BRITTLE.
Lying around like a loser in a damn HOSPITAL!" commenced rapping Troy.
Matsuo also dropped the spork he was using to eat his coleslaw. He could not believe they were dissing his best friend who was in the hospital. It was a shock to his system!
"That's right! We're ready for the MARIO!
We've been training in the lab all week, YO!
We're real AMERICANS just like G.I. JOE!
Not all foreign and weird like dirty-old MATSUO!" rapped Trent.
"YO," monotonely stated Thor into his microphone to help drive the point home.
"..." Matsuo could not believe his honorable name was mentioned in a school cookout dis track.
"What in the hell?" wondered Woolly-Milton Regular.
"...and when it comes to stinkin' and smellin' I think of PETER.
The same kid who looks exactly like a damn penis n' a WIENER.
Wearin' the same joggin' pants for a whole damn YEAR?
That penis face? My guess is he's a total friggin' QUEER!" shouted Tex into the microphone.
"YO," monotonely stated Thor into his microphone, again, to help drive the point home.
The other students weren't cheering or anything. Even the mean blonde girl who liked Troy was really really weirded out that they'd make fun of a kid in the hospital who hadn't even been in school, in like, many weeks. They just watched nervously... except for Mrs. Dongyschotts, who was dancing in place like a big moron... flapping her flabby under-arms around. As the student body watched the over-weight teacher dance alone... the tide was still turning, in fact, no student liked the Quadrangle anymore... they thought they sucked and were weird.
"I guess I'm next? I wonder what rhymes with barbecue fork? What'll their dopey brains cook up? Dork? Spork? Mork... from Mork and Mindy?" wondered Woolly-Milton aloud as he took a bite out of his cheese burger while rolling his eyes.
Thor began his verse which was delivered in a gruff monotone voice...
"When it comes to Mario it's me who is the BEST.
Woolly-Milton Regular is worse than the REST.
They call that stupid guy Woolly-Milton REGULAR?
More like they should call him Woolly-Milton IRREGULAR!" stated Thor with a mic in his hand.
All the students watching the rap recital rolled their eyes and some started to openly jeer and boo them.
"Rhyming Regular with Irregular? These half-wits are not very good at this genre of music, Woolly-San," said Matsuo while shaking his head.
"I know, Funk, I know... they devoted a whole rap recital at a cook out to calling me Irregular... it's sad," said Woolly-Milton.
"You suck!" yelled the kid with bushy eyebrows at the Quadrangle instead of cheering for their rap.
All the students booed the Quadrangle who were now seen as spoiled brats who just got to play Mario 3 at school and who dedicated an entire rap recital to making fun of a kid in the hospital.
As the student body jeered and derided the so-called honor students, Principal Dorksmund lounged in his chair, high atop the school in his lair of deceit...
"...it is worse than I thought, Mr. Schett... we are looking at the makings of a full-fledged... youth-oriented rebellion..." stated Principal Dorksmund with eyes filled with fright.
To Be Continued...
Woolly-Milton got up, nodded at Matsuo, it was time, Matsuo nodded back as he picked up a small tool kit and wire cutters, and walked to the stage, the crowd of students parted like when Moses parted the Red Sea as Woolly-Milton Regular walked, slooowly, to the stage.
He arrived and looked up at the elevated stage as Troy, Trent, Tex, n' Thor glared at him with their arms crossed under their scoury eyes. Before he could jump on the stage and bust his rhymes... the rotund Mr. Schett stopped him.
"You can rap... but... we're not going to sit back and take it lightly if a youth-oriented rebellion breaks out! We'll cut your mic! We'll cut your mic feed!" threatened Mr. Schett.
"...." responded Woolly-Milton Regular as he climbed onto the stage.
Matsuo climbed onto the stage from the back on the other side. He pulled out a turntable and a record and connected it to the sound system. He turned the volume up from seven to nine on the sound system, turned his Mets cap backwards, and started scratchin' that record on the turntable to re-hash the bass and drum beats on the record.
The crowd of students already started to get into it from Matsuo's scratchin' alone... then Woolly-Milton grabbed the microphone with his right hand. He had the mic in his hand...
He started noddin' to the beats of Matsuo's scratchin'...
"Thanks for the fresh beats, Funk, now look... I gotta respond to some statements made in the previous portion of this cookout rap recital... now don't I?" began Woolly-Milton.
The crowd was beginning to get excited as Matsuo turned up the tempo of his beats! The students started getting nuts and getting ready to get crazy!
"They told me that I'm Irregular!?" began Woolly-Milton.
He started to bust out his rhymes...
"They told ME that I'm... Irregular!?
The same guy who's rhymes go for your Jugular?
Callin' me Irregular... tellin' me that I'm Irregular?
Not circular, triangular, or even rectangular?
Gimme a break! I'm coming at you like a Jaguar!" rapped Woolly-Milton Regular.
The rhymes flowed like a stream of fresh water and cascaded off of the stage into the ears of the student body who nodded along to it. Mr. Schett's eyes were red and his jowls blue with rage as he watched the students, from seniors to juniors, nod along to the fresh flow of the timely rhymes that blasted off the stage.
Matsuo changed up the beat with some fly scratchin' on the turntable! He was now turning a Paul Simon single of Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard on the turntable switching up the tempo of the beats to make them fresh and also funky!
"Y'all coming after my crew!?
Julio is suffering if you only knew!
The Quadrangle, those sucker emcees who eat playdough,
Dissin' Julio just cuz his folks came from Mexico...
The dude was BORN HERE, don't even need no Green Card,
I can't wait until it's back to... Me n' Julio Down by the..." rapped Woolly-Milton as he pointed the mic to the audience.
"SCHOOLYARD!" yelled the crowd of students finishing Woolly-Milton's rhyme. Mr. Schett couldn't wait to run to the back of the stage and cut the microphone's feed as he witnessed all of the students sing along to Woolly-Milton Regular's rhymes.
Matsuo caught Mr. Schett out of the corner of his eye and let the record play for a minute as he readied his small tool box and wire cutters to counter Mr. Schett's sabotage. When the dastardly Mr. Schett was finished with his wire-cutting deeds... Matsuo shaved-open the wire casing with his wire-cutters and then used his tools to re-connect the wires. He managed to get back to his turntable before any technical difficulty could result on stage.
Mr. Schett watched with a sneer and smile as his plan unfolded, but when Woolly-Milton belted out his next rhyme... the conniving mischievous teacher almost fainted as the rap recital continued with no difficulty!
"What about suave Pete n' Mat the Funky Funker!?
The same two guys who beat the Quadrangle at Soccer!
Now y'all training in the lab all day long at Mario Three for Free!
While the rest of us kids have to now pay a damn cookout FEE!
The Quadrangle must be, at night, tossin' to and fro,
Tryin' so hard all day long to maintain this ludicrous status quo,
What're you gonna say when our crew defeats you guys at Nin. Ten. DO!" rhymed Woolly-Milton freshly as he dropped the mic and walked off the stage as the student body cheered and roared like a lion!
Stay tuned for the conclusion in a new entry!
Stay tuned for the finale, part III, of a Spring Story!
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