41

Grab a nice big cup of iced coffee, or your favorite intoxicant if you prefer, and let's take a jaunt back to 80's Fuckno, shall we? Sometimes, pure, freshly-squeezed orange juice intoxicates me. Breakfast is gooood.

Here's your opening tune while you get all set.



The Preppie Boys sat with their noses in their texts, which back then meant "School Books," not "text-messages" as it does today. They were wary of intruders because of the rudeness of rednecks previously encountered. If they were to get into a fight, they could get their Izods torn, or their Ray Bans broken.

But they actually could fight, unlike the nerds, geeks and spazzes, who would just get beat up.

One Preppie looked up at me as I approached. He smiled and said, "Well hi there. We were wondering how long it would take you to make your way to us." He turned to another Preppie. "Gary, you win. Everyone pay up."

Gary collected his winnings and the first Preppie looked back at me. "I’m Rick, and now you know Gary." He introduced the rest of them to me.

"Hi everyone," I said. "I’m Will."

These young men had their courses all charted out. Graduate with A’s in college prep courses from this all-American high school and then shoot for the stars. Future doctors, lawyers and senators stood before me. McMansions, Beemers and trophy wives awaited them.

Rick handed me a sheet of paper with boxes and numbers all over it. "Care to place a bet on Thursday's baseball game?"

I shook my head. "I ain't one for gambling. I don't have good luck."

He smirked. "Will, luck is for losers." He looked over at the Jocks. "Sometimes, a bet is not a gamble."

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

I met Joey for lunch at the nearby Taco Hell. The burrito supreme was like heaven to me. By the time two of those babies had their effect on me, I'd be pedaling home.

Joey munched on one of his tacos. "Hey, I seen you jibber jabberin with those Preppie boys. Why you talking to those losers?"

I sipped my Coke. "Why you call them losers?"

He laughed. "Anybody who spends that much time doing homework is missing out on life, man."

It was my turn to laugh. "You sound like a god-damned hippie, Joey."

Here was something about Joey that took me years to figure out. While he was as ambitious as any teen at that time, his ambitions did not distract him from his delights. This would eventually become his own personal demon.

There he was, taco crumbs on his face, discounting those who did not let their delights distract them from their determination. Their determination, their ambition, was indeed their delight.

Who wins and who loses, if that be the case? Is the prize everything they thought it would be?



When Katheena walked by me in the hallway that afternoon I felt my heart beat faster in my dick. She was wearing a leather jacket with a big belt on it that hung out and smacked folks in the thighs as she passed. She had on white leggings and possibly a g-string. There were no panty seams, you see. I studied to be certain.

She stopped and turned, then smiled at me. "You should take a picture." I wished I had a camera. I would have.

So I stalked her all the way to her locker and tried not to oggle her backside too much. She stopped in front of her locker and said, "Joey likes you, so that's cool. You might be OK. But I don't know you. Where you from?"

"I'm from Maine," I said as she undid her combination lock. "I came here last summer."

She nodded, exchanging books. "So where you been all this time since last summer?"

I swallowed. "Roosevelt. It kinda sucked there for me."

She giggled, which was very cute the way she did it. "Roosevelt sucks for everyone. But they have the best weed."

Katheena was testing me out. New kids were always thought of as narcs, and there was nothing you could do about it except accept it, or do something illegal. Nice choice, huh?

"Yeah, and they have some of the best powder parties I've ever been to." It was the only powder party I had been to, so it was the best I had been to, and the worst at the same time.

She studied me for a moment, and then shrugged. "Ok, see you around Will."

That was her first-level acceptance of me into her tight and closely guarded circle. It wasn't the mention of drugs that did it. She really couldn't give two fucks about drugs, even though she had instant access. I think it was something else. You will see.

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

The Preppies held court in the middle of the quad that bright, cool Friday morning in early May. They sat next to the fountain, with big smiles on their faces. Rick waved me over.

He said, "I got twenty bucks for ya." It was true. My prediction of a home team left field error in the fifth or sixth inning had turned my five dollar bill into a twenty. It should have been twenty five, according to odds.

Rick nodded. "I told you, 20 percent of your winnings goes to the house to play in this game."

I shook my head. "That's bullshit. That's a rip-off."

He looked at me for a little bit, then smiled. "Wise man say, 'you pay big to win, but pay all when lose.'"

What the fuck was this shit?

What it meant was that the house got twenty percent of your winnings if you won, but took it all if you lost. In this here game, if you were on the inside, then you would never lose. Jocks who played correctly got half of the house's take, you see.

Sometimes, a bet is not a gamble. But is the prize everything you thought it would be?

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


God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.







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