God, I hate the P.T.A. What does P.T.A. even stand for? People Taking Action? Parents Talking Aloud? Puppets Torque Association? No, that one’s just way off. I can’t put my finger on it, but this cafeteria assembly gives me the creeps. It’s like some weird déjà voodoo thing. I pissed a minute ago, but I’m tempted to go again just to stand and stretch my legs. I have no idea what this fat mom is talking about. I’m not sure if she’s fat cause she’s pregnant or if she ate a baby, but either way, she’s got a kid inside her. Why did Sheila drag me here? Does Sky really need us coming to this shit? Ugh. Sky. That name. Sheila just had to pick the gayest possible name for him. Next kid, I’m naming Steven Seagal Part Two. He’ll be like a sequel to Steven Seagal, the person. Who am I kidding? Sheilla’ll name him something queer-eye like Summer or River. Nature Names. Ugh. Is she trying to raise a 60’s folk band or something?
People are clapping. I’ll clap too. It’s weird, but I really enjoy clapping. What are they clapping about anyway? Oh, fuck. I think I just clapped in support of art’s funding. That’s exactly what I need in my life right now. Another shitty drawing of a rainbow holding hands with a bunny. Sky’s artwork is like an Easter-themed gay pride parade. On top of everything, his technique is pedestrian at best.
So bored. I’m just gonna shut my eyes for one little second. Think about something nice… anything but this… stupid… middle school… but… I won’t… go… to… sleep…
Oh, hey… I’m back in middle school… All my friends are here… We’re all kids again! Holy Shit! John, what are you doing here?! Oh, that’s right, your family doesn’t move away until sophomore year of high school. God, I missed you old pal. No, we can’t play doctor anymore! For one thing, John, we’re in the middle of the cafeteria for our morning assembly. Plus, remember, when my Dad caught us? Oh, and I’m like 40 now and married. Why are you staring at me like that? Oh, crap! I’m naked! I’m in the middle of morning assembly, in the middle of middle school, in the middle of an embarrassing boner I was trying to hide, and I’m naked! Please, everyone, stop staring at my boner!
Ah! People are clapping! I must have nodded off. Sheila didn’t notice. Thank God. Just start clapping like you agree with whatever the hell they’re clapping about. Community service? Really? Ugh. I wonder if that student-run drink stand serves beer? I mean, it's a middle school, but I heard you can bartend even if you’re under twenty-one. It couldn’t hurt to ask. They should at least carry a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I’m gonna stand up and check—
Goddammit, Sheila, why aren’t you letting me stand up? Let go of my arm, I’m not a child. I’ve been sitting here so fucking long. Can we go home yet? Sheila should at least schtup me tonight. We haven’t done it in six months! Do you know how long that is? In dog years, that’s like ten dogs! I swear to Jesus W. Christ, if she doesn’t do it with me tonight, I will schtup my pillow. Last time I schtupped my pillow, Sheila freaked. I told her I sneezed in my sleep, but she knows what’s what. For one thing, the pillow smelled like bleach mixed with bacon fat, which is what my semen smells like. I really just wish I could stand up and stretch my legs. The only way to do that is to give a boring ass lecture about the liberal bent on our kid’s textbooks. God, if you’re listening to me, please let me stand and stretch my legs.
I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I can’t fall asleep. Sheila’ll eat me alive. I’ll count the parents here. That’ll keep me concentrated on a task so I won’t doze off. One parent. Two parents. Three parents… Four sheep… Five sheep… Six shee… Seve…
Where am I? I’m in my parent’s old basement. Oh, hey, Josh. What? You’re moving away?! No, don’t! I don’t care about your Dad’s stupid real estate job! Just stay and play colecovision with me forever! I’ll follow you! Follow you wherever you may go! I’ll follow you when you go… hunting?
I’m hunting with my Dad. What’s that, Dad? We’re hunting bears with antlers because they are terrorizing the peasants? Okay, sure. Hey! Look, Dad, in the distance. It’s Josh. He’s naked and on all fours, like a majestic antelope. No, don’t shoot him, Dad! I love him!
Huh, what? Damn, I feel asleep again. Sheila looks pissed. Was I snoring? Oh, crap… I’ve got a boner. I must have had a sex dream, about a very sexy lady (i.e. not Sheila). At least we’re gonna be sitting here for awhile, so no one should notice.
Oh, people are clapping again. Good, I’ll clap and wake myself up a bit. Oh, no. Why is everyone standing? A standing ovation, really? For this lard-ass, third-trimester, baby-eating, soccer bitch! Who is she, JFK? Stop tugging at my arm, Sheila. I don’t want to stand! Leave me alone! Stop it!
FINE! FINE! I’ll stand! I’m standing now, are you happy?!
Holy fuck. My fly is open. I forgot to zip after pissing! Everyone’s staring at me. Staring at it. Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer?! No, don’t take a picture! Shit, that’s going straight into the school newsletter. Wait… this feels like that déjà voodoo again. Did something like this happen… in middle school… and I repressed the memory?
Shows over, folks. I tucked it back in. Let’s just all sit down and ignore the fact the little fuehrer was poking his head out, heiling his people. Ha! That’s funny! I’ll say that joke out loud and everyone will laugh and forget about this whole fucking thing.
Uh-oh, I forgot the Samuel Goldstein’s grandfather died in Auschwitz. They look really mad. Sheila’s fuming. Now she won’t schtup me for sure. It’s the pillow for me tonight. Maybe I’ll microwave it this time.
I think I just realized what the P.T.A. stands for. Prison Torture Ass-rape. God, I hate the P.T.A.
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