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Now don't forget that you can sleep in for an extra hour. Fall back baby. Enjoy that extra hour of pillow time until you get used to it... the next day or two.


Let's get to this second chapter of Face the Music. Yesterday was the first part.


Ivan had rung the fire bell for Katheena, because she told him to. Joey told me this.


Why did Katheena make Ivan do it?

You might want to grab a bowl of cereal, beer, or what-have-you and sit down.

Well, Katheena had been buying pills from Trinity (of Roosevelt High fame) all this time. And she heard from Trinity about Felissa, the chick I'd done and dropped in the same hour.

Fuck me. Those two Hispanish girls were cousins, you see. They were kinda tight with each other, as well as tight in other ways. I'm an asshole for saying that.

Now get this, Felissa was dating Gilbert, the Front Lineman for MuckLane High. There were many lines he snorted, or crossed, that is. We would get him back for the Dance Fiasco that he started. Felissa had told him that German girls do not shave. Anything. Felissa was pissed at me and jealous of Lorelei.


You following me here? No worries, it will make even less sense as we go along.

Katheena and Lorelei? They had been speaking quite often. How fucked up is that? Women have a connection that men will never understand, even when one is boning the other one's dude. And that was how Lorelei got her Rocket Tickets for the Moonshot, baby. From Trinity, through Katheena.


I think, looking back, that Lorelei simply wanted to know about Ivan, that fucker, and wondered what Katheena's intentions were with him. You know that it was only a little while before those German kids would be jetting back to their motherland.

Yup. I was Lorelei's dalliance. And when she and Ivan returned back to Germany, she probably thought that they'd get back together.

Huh.

But I honestly believe that Katheena helped Lorelei get them tickets just to help me out somehow. Or, I'd prefer to believe that.

Remember, Lorelei chust didn't vant me to be sssso sssad. She saw something wrong with me that was worse than getting fucked over by Katheena.

She was right on the money.



What The Fuck?




Fuckno, Californication is a megalopolis, but it is very tight in some ways.


Remember, this happened 26 years ago, and I have not been involved in drugs all these years. Drugs are bad. Do not do drugs.


So here we go.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

We snuck into the theater-costume-sewing classroom after the other classrooms previous offered nothing for us, and we felt like we had struck gold.

Costumes.

We got all dolled up in fancy Victorian Garb and went down to mill about in the Quad.























I kid you.

It was an idea even worse than that.

It was a bad idea.

And it was my idea.

Fuck.

Hey, don't look at me that way. We were in panic mode.

There were uniforms for the school maintenance and cooking crews in there for repair. This bode well for us. Cheap-ass MockLane High back then did not out-source their work uniform maintenance. This was akin to a sweat-shop.

++++++++++++++++++++++

The firemen swept the school as the police officers kept everyone from going back into the buildings or leaving school grounds. The Principal stood up on one of the cement benches surrounding the water fountain in the middle of the Quad. He had a megaphone, and he used it there and then, as we slipped out into the Quad, one by one.

Now, when you are wearing a uniform, two things will happen, depending on the situation.

If it is a normal day, no one will pay much attention to you unless they need your help with something, or have a question.

Or, others who wear such a uniform will see you immediately. And they know everyone else who wears such a uniform in their workplace.

This had not occurred to us.

Luckily, we were not near anyone else wearing maintenance or cook clothing, so we were unknowingly lucky at this moment.


This would not last long.

The Principal said this through his mouth-horn: "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. This is only a fire-drill. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain."





OK, sorry, I couldn't resist.

"You are not in harm, and you will be seated safely in your classroom in just a little bit. Please allow the police and firemen to do their jobs unimpeded."

Someone shouted out, "Hey! Why are you holding Political Prisoners against their will?"

The Principal's face went red. He shouted through the megaphone, "Who said that?" This caused the megaphone to emit a shrill feedback screech.

Someone else shouted, "BOOOOOO!"

Arms raised up, and everyone started to follow along.

"BOOOOOO!"

The Principal shouted through his horn, "That girl was not a political prisoner! She was involved in an altercation, and she will be sent back home!"

Unfortunately for him, no one could hear him above the roar of boos.

The police began to come toward him, probably to offer support, but this only caused the crowd to get a bit crazy. Kids began to disperse to the gates, and we went along with them.

We headed for the parking lot with a mass of kids entangled in riot mode. Other groups were entering buildings with the intent of vandalism. They had been told that there was no fire, that it was safe after all.

But not safe from them.

It was probably an instance of poor crowd-control on the Principal's behalf. But remember, it was all because of us.

And Lorelei's words to the students.

As we headed to the parking lot, we were pointed out by others who also wore our uniforms.

They did not recognize us.

The police responded and stopped us.

"We need to check your bags." These bags held our clothing.

Oh Shit.



+++++++++++++++++++++


LINKS



Comic for your Sunday.



Dear Genitals, thanks for not bleeding every month.



Forkless Bike.



Magic street performer Marriage proposal.




Songs to lie in bed and listen to?




Game: Feed The King.



Another cartoon for your Sunday pleasure.





Angry Duck to explore.




See you next weekend, if you like.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.






One more for ya.




Scotland's Unusual Soldier.







.