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| REALLY Turning Red |
Neal,
I was a senior in high school. I was in English literature, and my teacher, the proverbial white-haired old lady with the beehive hairdo and the cat's eye glasses on the tip of her nose, was reading a poem about a butterfly. As you can imagine, my friends and I sat slumped in our desks, fighting to stay awake.
My best fried sat next to me. He is black. He used to get a kick out of me when I would tense up the muscles in my neck and hold my breath and make my face red from the blood that rushed into my face. Obviously, he could not generate the beet red color that I could. So, in an effort to fend off the boredom, he leaned over to me and whispered, "Hey. . .make your face red". I obliged. Unfortunately, since I was slumped so far down in my desk, my cheeks were not firmly planted in my seat, and thus I had no resistance to the pressure that I created by tensing up. The blare from my derriere resounded rather trumpetously, breaking the silence and releasing the rest of the class from the doldrums.
Unfortunately, the person who sat in the blast radius was a girl on whom I'd had a crush. Her reaction was quite immediate. Her look of disdain and accusations of "Disgusting Pig" ruined any chance that I might have had in asking her out. She, along with the rest of the class, thought
I had broken wind on purpose. Only my friend and I knew the thruth of the matter.He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face. I could not help but laugh, simply because, this was the kind of luck I enjoyed throughout high school.
In the end, the embarassment turned my face redder than it had ever been, so my friend got what he wanted after all. I was sent to the principals office, where, after my explanation was rejected, my buttocks was introduced to his paddle. To this day, I never slump in my seat.
(Pun intended) The end
Submitted by Tom |
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