DON'T PANIC!!! :)

...

TABLE OF CONTENTS

...

... a word of introduction ... and warning ...

...
......
............
PART 1 - THOSE MORNIN' BLUES
(The Calm Before the Storm)
............
......
...

6:59 AM - "RISE AND SHINE, SWEETHEART."
(a last real conversation with dad) --- Page 1

...

7:21 AM - BREAKFAST WITH GEOFSAMA
(how the cussing jar got full) --- Page 8

...

8:15 AM - ENTER THE SCARAB
(when dung brains met mucus breath) --- Page 21

...

8:49 AM - THE PRINCIPLES OF A PRINCIPAL
(the unexpected upside
of being hit in the face with a brick.) --- Page 29

...
......
............
PART 2 - CRUEL SCHOOL
(The Beginning of the End)
............
......
...

Page 39

...

My heat near stops. Oh my god, he's gonna kill me! He's gonna snap my little neck like a twig!

But he just curls into a ball next to me, and begins sobbing sadly. I stare at him for awhile. He hasn't noticed me... yet. Stare awhile longer at my sobbing wreck of a principal. Then step over him.

As I silently stepped out of the bushes I'm fairly certain I heard him mutter through sobs... 11 words... that I would NEVER... EVER... forget:

"They make him eat WORMS? How is that fair? Worms are delicious!"

Having heard more than enough, I dusted for the school. As fast as my little legs would carry me.

-END CHAPTER 4-

...

flip page, -- (Available Soonish Mayhaps!)

flip back.

Page 38

...

"They... never made me drink from the toilet... once?"

"Well nothing like that... I mean they've dunked my head in the toilet a few times, but they usually flush first, unless it looks clean already..."

"They... flush... the toilet... first..." Utter disgust in his voice.

"And they made me eat worms the other day!"

"That's it! I've heard enough! What the heck are you even complaining about! Get the heck out of here! Get he heck out of my freaking face, you little vagina!?"

And that being said Geof dusts for the school.

Principal Milfburg looks both ways, then begins climbing into the bushes next to me.

My heat near stops. Oh my god, he's gonna kill me! He's gonna snap my little neck like a twig!

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 37

...

"Um, nobody... does anything like that to me," Geof says watching Milfburg, bug eyed.

"What!?" the Principal says in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Nobody does anything like that to me..."

"Well... not that per se... but I'm sure they've you know... poured scalding water on you... that kind of thing..."

"No, they just kind of act nasty toward me mostly..."

"Act... nasty toward you?"

"Yeah like they're better than me, and they call me Geofsama, and say I have the cooties."

"That's it?" the Principal asks, defeated tone.

"They've hit me a few times..."

"With bats?"

"No, um mostly punches in the stomach."

"They... never made me drink from the toilet... once?"

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 36

...

"Um, no..."

"Good then you'll stay in your class, and develop character like I did, when I was a boy! And look at me now! I'm a successful Principal with a '59 Porsche." The Principal walked over to the car conveniently located behind the bush, and sat on the hood. "When I was your age I had to spit shine this vehicle from top to bottom, and for every spot I left behind I had to choose between getting kicked in the groin or having a cigarette burned into my arm! And now it's mine! All thanks to the beatings I took when I was your age!

"And do you have any idea what Geoffrey went on to do!?" Principal Milfburg added.

"No, what!?" Geof asked with sudden interest.

"Well, I don't know. Obviously we didn't keep in touch, but I'm sure whatever it is he's doing I'm sure it's something entirely different then what he'd be doing had I not beaten him within an inch of his life every time I came across him. See Geoffrey!? I helped mould that lucky boy's life! And now I'm helping to mould yours...

"So I want you to remember that..." the Principal whispered coldly into Geofrey's ear. "Remember that the next time your nasty little friends are... making you drink your own pee from the toilet bowl... or tying you to a tree and leaving you there to pee yourself... and hitting you in the face with bricks! Remember, that that's me, helping you!"

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 35

...

"Um, I don't think I'll be doing that sir," Geof said bluntly.

"Don't be ridiculous! I had to do it. So obviously YOU do. I mean it's your only option! ... Other than suicide... and honestly Geoffrey... I just don't think you have the stones to kill yourself. That takes a LOT... of stones. Do you have any idea what it's like to a double barrels of a shotgun into your mouth, and feel the cold steel of the trigger against your big toe!? Well I do, Geoffrey! Because I'VE done it! And I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, and leave my worthless brains all over the classic 1950s Mustang he loved more than me, for him to find in the morning! And now he's DEAD and his Mustange is MINE, and it's TOO LATE!

And do you think you have the stones to do what I couldn't, Geoffrey? Because honestly Geoffrey I'm looking into your eyes, right now, deep into you're very soul, and I'm sad to report I just don't think so. I find you lacking, Geoffrey. Very lacking. You don't have it in you, Geoffrey. You just don't. You're a pansy, Geoffrey. You're a vagina."

"Um, okaayyy..." Geofrey reported. Obviously in fear for his life. I was staying pretty silent myself. Heart beating fast. But then he added: "Could you just put it on record that I asked to be changed to another class, because-"

The Principal interrupted with a spectacularly brief and sharp sigh, and then added: "Fine, I will, but it won't matter because I'm the only one who the records matter to, and it's my final say so, and I say NO. You're going to stay in your class full of sociopathic bullies, and develop character, and that's THAT! That's what I did! Are you saying that it's good enough for me, but it's not good enough for you!? Are you saying you're better than me!? Is that what you're saying, Geoffrey!?"

"Um, no..."

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 34

...

"So here's what I did. I found another little boy even smaller and scrawnier than I was... his name was... Geofrey, I think! Just like yours! What an amazing coincidence! It truly is a smallish and miniscule world."

Geofrey's mouth hangs open. I think mine does too. Even I know this isn't right.

"In any event, whenever I saw Geoffrey I would chase after him, knock him to the floor and beat him senseless until he was black and blue, and sobbing for the sweet mercy he knew I'd NEVER give him. Oh... those were good times. It was very relaxing, I don't know how I'd ever have survived without it! And there there's nothing wrong with it, you know? It's the law of nature: 'The Great Shall Devour the Meek!' That's in the bible, you know! So that's what you've gotta do, Geoffrey. Find yourself a pipsqueak and beat him till he can no longer stand! Get me!? The other kids'll respect you. They may even think you're bat-poopie insane and never mess with you again!" he says grinning madly, with wide and happy eyes.

"Um, I don't think I'll be doing that sir," Geof said bluntly.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 33

...

"Now Geoffrey that's enough of that talk. I realize you're just a child, but that's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

"But-"

"No don't you talk over me! You listen to me, son! You may not think having you schoolmates pick on you, and shove your head in the toilet, and toss bricks at you and such is helping you at all, but believe you me, son, it is!

"Now my father used to tell me an expression that went something like this: 'Whatever almost kills you... makes you stronger." And let me tell you that believe you me, boyo, that's just what he did! And I had to go through that, and now you do too! It's all a part of growing up! It wouldn't be very fair if I were tortured as a small childe, and you DIDN'T, would it? Explain to me how that could be fair!?"

"Um-"

"Look here boyo, I'll give you some advice, when I was your age all the boys in school would do all the most horrendous things you could ever imagine to me, and the girls they would laugh and egg them on, and when i got home my father would to things to me that would make me WISH I were back with those little ruffians in school.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 32

...

"What sir?" said Geof.

"Don't make me repeat myself!" spat the principal, and as he said it his hand shot out of his pocket and his long bony index finger poked Geofrey in the eye, having arced just over his glasses.

"Oww!" Geofrey cried holding his eye.

What a little pansy.

"I'm sorry son, but you shouldn't get in my way when I orate. Besides I wouldn't worry about it. These bullies will grow out of their desire to crush you like the worm you are, before you know it."

"S- sorry sir. Um with all do respect... my grades in every subject are ahead of my class... I'm probably on a seventh or eighth grade level, you could advance me-"

"Nonsense foolio! It's like I said to that little Korean spelling prodigy girl: No child in the Joshua Sutter School for Future Thinkers, is as intelligent as I am now. And thusly no child shall ever advance at a faster rate than I got to when I was your age! It's only fair. Understand?"

"No..." Geof replied obviously sulking. "I don't get it sir, you say everybody grows up eventually, right? So can't I just avoid the kids who hate me, until they're old enough to know better?"

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 31

...

"I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you were a squeeler, squeeler," mutters the Milfburg. "So squeel, little piggy. Squeel like the littly piggy you are." His eyes are wide. Toothy grin.

"Um, no sir. I'm not squeeling on anybody. I just want to change to another class, please."

"Oh..." Principle says with a look of obvious disappointment. "Getting picked on, so looking for a new crowd, eh?" He shugs. "I suppose it shouldn't be problem. Is that all? I DO have a school to run."

Geof hops up and down a few time. "No that's it! Thank you so much Principal Milfburg!"

"Oh it's no problem," the old man says smiling kindly. "I don't know what on earth you're thanking me for, though."

"For... for changing me to the other sixth grade class."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd never do that. I was saying, you getting picked on shouldn't be a problem! It builds character!"

"What sir?" said Geof.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 30

...

Walk past, Geof... just walk on past.

He's walking up... alongside the bushes.

Keep going... keep going.

He stops.

Why did he stop!?

He looks around suspiciously from one direction to the next.

Did he see me!? Is he gonna come in here and talk to me? I have a sick feeling in my gut. Which gets even worse when I see who approaches nonchalantly to talk to him... PRINCIPLE MILFBURG!!! My jaw hangs open. Fists ball. That little rat. I should'a beat him to the ground.

The bone thin Principle in the baggy suit, stops abrupt in front of Geoffrey.

"You wanted to see me?" quoth the Principal.

"Um, yeah" quoth Geof.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 29

...

8:49 - THE PRINCIPLES OF A PRINCIPAL
...
(the unexpected upside
of being hit in the face with a brick.)


So I'd run a moment ago, all the way to school. After my weird encounter with weirdo boy, whom I'd decided should here to forth be referred to as Dungbrains, and who do I run into? Geofsama again! Wandering up the path from school.

He's about to turn the corner and see me!

Feeling Jesusy again, I dive into some bushes by the school to avoid him, rather than beat the crap out of him.

Walk past, Geof... just walk on past.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 28

...

He moves suddenly, shooting forward grabbing by the shoulders before I can dodge him. His hands are strong. "Look, if I don't find this kid by 3 PM a whole lot of people are gonna die! So unless you wanna live with the weight of that on your shrimpy shoulders, you'd best tell me what you know!"

"I said I don't know anything, freakazoid! Get over it! And get lost!" I shove him hard, enough to pry him loose from my shoulders, and send him to the ground.

I back up a few steps as he falls, turning to the side to avoid falling on the duffel bag.

"Fine," he says getting up and brushing himself off. "But just remember that once the shit starts going down, that it never would'a happened if it weren't for you, mucusbreath." And with that said. He stomped off.

"Sure thing dungbrain!" I called after him. "I will!"

And although I didn't think so at the time... I always would remember that... everything that happened next was all my fault. In a way... you could even say I killed my own father.

-END CHAPTER 3-

...

flip page (available soonish mayhaps.)

flip back.

Page 27

...

"Never mind that," he says with a sigh. "I'm looking for a Geoffrey Tennet. You seen him, today?"

"Well how did they die, then?"

"Eaten by cooties," he states.

I gulp. Kid's either nuts or pulling my chain, or both... "I... thought you said people like me did it."

"You did. But never mind that. You know where this kid is or not?"

I know exactly where Geoffrey Tennet is, of course: crying under that tree or whatever, less than a block away from us. But as much as I might pick on Geof I'm not about to hand him over to this nut case. Plus I might get in trouble if I tell him.

"Ummmmm, I think I better not say," I finally inform, giving him my patented -I'm sorry you're a crazy person- look.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 26

...

"Sorry," I say, not knowing what else to. I add: "People call me Scout." Not really sure why I told him my name, but having already done so I spit in my hand and extend if for a shake.

"Gross," he says with a disgusted glance at the tiny amount of spittle on my palm, looking at it as if I'd just barfed on it. He adds: "I know who you are, Jean Louise Finch. I know everything about this town. And don't be sorry. It's not like you killed 'em."

I open my mouth, not sure what to say, but he speaks again, interrupting me. "Then again... they did die, thanks to people like you." Then he adds: "The name's Scarab. Joe Scarab." His arms are folded.

"What do you mean by that!?" I finally manage to say, whilst wiping my hand off on my jeans.

"It's my name. Jooe Scaa-raab. Sheesh yer slow."

"No not that, the other part! Whadayou mean people like me killed your parents!?"

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 23

...

As I do, he catches me out of the corner of his eye, and turns to me, his look catching me off guard. He's not bad looking. His eyes match his hair. He points his device at me, then decides I am less interesting than the device itself, and turns away and back to the device again, staring hard core at it as if it contains all the answers to life, the universe and everything.

"So what is that thing?" I ask, looking at it over his shoulder. On it are a bunch of red dots, one of which seems to be blinking between red and blue.

He jerks it at out of my line of sight, and replies: "None o' yer business, toots." Then he adds: "Scoot." Still staring at his little toy instead of me.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 24

...

My eyes widen. Fists balled. Blow air through my nostrils. I've never been called "toots" nor "scoot" before, but I suspect they're some kind of insult.

He pays no mind.

"Shouldn't you be heading to school?" I ask eventually, figuring he goes to the same school as me, a new kid in town, lost... and trying to MapQuest the school, using the funkiest looking cell phone ever.

"Not, really no," he answers. Not bothering to look up from the device. He taps it a few time. "Work, damn you!" he mutters to it.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I know enough to do what I gotta do."

"And what's that?"

"Stop Cooties," he answers turning toward me dramatically, and pocketing the device as he does it.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 25

...

I stare at him blankly for a few seconds. He meets my gaze.

"You stop cooties," I repeat for the record.

"I stop cooties," he confirms.

"Annnnd do your parents know you're doing this?"

"Nope."

"Well, what if I were to go find them and tell them?"

"That'd be a tough trick to pull off," he says cooly.

"Why's that?"

"They're dead," he states matter of factly.

I'm struck silent by this information. My mouth hangs open for a sec. Then I shut it tight. Lick my lips. I eventually say: "Seriously?"

To which he nods.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 22

...

Previous to this moment, I'd walked out of the house grumbling about "freaking unfair parents," and "my freaking allowance," I'd turned the corner toward school, and there was none other than tiny skinny "Geofsama" sitting under a tree. Not feeling the particular the urge to beat the crap out of him, nor be seen with him, I did what I could only assume Jesus would have done, and walked around the block to avoid him.

This was where I ran into the strange blue haired geek boy in military camo. I didn't particularly wanna beat up, nor be seen with him either... still in this case, my curiosity outweighed my fear and social ostracization...

And so I approach.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 21

...

8:15 - ENTER THE SCARAB.
...
(when dungbrain met mucusbreath.)

There he is standing out there in the middle of the street. Maybe a year older than me (14-ish), and by far the strangest boy I've ever seen. Long wavy-shaggy shoulder length hair, dyed bright blue, and decked out in baggy military camo, with a similarly camo-ed gigantic duffle bag (over twice his size!!!) slung over his shoulder. In his hand, is a funny looking toy sensor thing like in Star Trek or Ghost Busters. He's examining it carefully perhaps taking a reading of how dorky he is. For the record this is not Geofsama. If that was what you were thinking... this is someone new.

Oops, I've jumped ahead and lost you, haven't I? Lemme back track a little.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 20

...

When breakfast was done Dad pointed for the door. And I stood up sadly.

"Fucking school," I muttered and dug through my pockets. "Can I borrow a quarter?" I asked Dad. He handed it to me, and I dropped it into the jar, with a sigh. "Jesus Christ," I added. Then extended my hand again "'nother quarter?"

He tossed a dollar bill into the completely full jar. "There now yer set for three more cusses," he said.

"Shit. Motherfucker. Cocksucker," I muttered, and walked out the door.

"Think that's funny!?" Dad called after me. "Now you owe us a dollar twenty five! And that's coming right out of your allowance!"

"Plus interest!" Mom added.

And with that they both chuckled evilly. But the joke was on them...

I'd never have the chance to pay up.

-END CHAPTER 2-

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 19

...

"Scout! Tell me that kid does not look like an Arab to you!"

I nod my head. "In school we call him Geofsama Bin Laden."

"See!? He's Geofsama Bin Laden."

"Oh God... of fucking god." Mom says tossing her last three coins back into the jar again. "No more, ok? Just no more. Let's just eat in silence. No more Geofsama at the breakfast table.

Dad and I nodded warily, realizing that any further discussion on this subject, could cause Mom to snap and kill us both.

Breakfast continued on peacefully enough, Mom commented on how she couldn't see how Dad and I could eat bacon when it's been proven that pigs are as intelligent as four year old children, which prompted Dad and I to ponder how delicious four year old children undoubtedly taste, and whether or not they could be turned in the bacon. Which in turn prompted Mom to command us to shut up again.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 18

...

"Wait a second," Dad says lifting up a hand. "Our neighbors? That little shrimpy kid next door is Geofrey?"

Mom shrugs. "Yeah, what are you so surprised for?"

"Well it's just y'know..." Dad says with a humorous smirk on his face. "He doesn't really look like a... Geofrey... per se."

"For Christ's sake honey, shut up," Mom says, disgustedly tossing a dollar bill into the jar and retrieving three coins.

"Looks a little more like an Osama to me," Dad says with a wide grin.

I snicker at that. And next thing: we're both cackling.

"Oh shut up, you two are both morons. He's not even Arabic. His father is Spanish American, and his mother is whiter than both of you put together."

"Idunno... that kid's father looks like he'd fit pretty well in a turban. You never know they might be one of those sleeper cells..." Dad says winking at me. "Like on 24... or that show on Showtime show with the sleeper cells... can't remember what it's called..."

"Oh shut up, will you! You really wanna be spouting this crap in front of your daughter? You proud o' yerself!?"

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 17

...

"WORMS!!! You made him eat worms! Jesus Fucking Christ!"

I point to the jar. Mom grumpily tosses a coin in. I show her two fingers.

"What!?" she says defensively.

"Scouts right, that's a twofer," Dad says nodding.

"You always side with her," Mom says rolling her eyes.

"You said the f word, and the Lord's name in vain," I politely inform.

"Fine!" she shouts tossing another coin in. "Scout, try to be a little nicer to that kid, k? He and his parents are our next door neighbors... and I'd like for us to be able to get along."

I nod my head a little trying to look serious, whilst sneaking my lil brother Jem (who is a black and white Corgi and not a human for the record) some Pancake under the table. He licks my hand gratefully, whilst slurping up the pancake bit.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 16

...

Mom sighs. "Oh, honey. Don't be stupid. There's no such thing as Cooties."

I sigh as well, relieved that her tone seems more exasperated than furious. "But Dad says Geoffrey does have the Cooties," I say eventually, and instantly regret saying it, as the look of unquenchable rage bordering on blood lust returns to Mom's face.

"Oh so this is your doing!?" she shouts at Dad.

"Hey come on, let's all just chill out a little. So the kid's kind of a freak, and the kids beat up on him some and Scout made him eat some worms. It's not really that big a deal in the eternal scheme of things."

"WORMS!!!" Mom shouts. I stick my middle finger up at Dad and toss a coin in the jar as Mom continues her tirade. Dad retaliates by sticking his tongue out . "WORMS!!! You made him eat worms! Jesus Fucking Christ!"

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 15

...

"Is that right, Jean Louise? Is the witness mistaken?"

I nod, affirmative. Damn. That was an outright lie. Ok I'm going to hell.

"So I'm mistaken," she says gruffly.

"No Ma'am..." I mutter terrified and trembling. "The witness."

"But Scout..." Mom whispers menacingly as she leans across the table. "I am the witness."

"Geoffrey Tennet has the Cooties!" I shout in my defence.

Mom sighs. "Oh, honey. Don't be stupid. There's no such thing as Cooties."

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 14

...

"The big deal is a fucking eyewitness, says she fucking DID do it!!!" Mom shouts in Dad's face showering him in a trickle of spittle.

Dad and I simultaneously point to the cussing jar. Mom sighs, roots through her purse and tosses a quarter in. Dad and I both hold up two fingers. She grunts, and tosses another in, adding "Jesus Christ," and flicking in a third.

The cussing jar is effective in two ways. First it takes your money. Second, it takes your momentum. It's much easier to maintain an argument without cussing in this household.

Dad shrugs, and says "so what? So yer witness was mistaken."

"Is that right, Jean Louise? Is the witness mistaken?"

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 13

...

"Sorry, you lost me there," I say. My eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

"She says she didn't do it? She's a good kid! What're you making such a big fucking deal about!?" Dad says tossing another coin into the cussing jar. "I'm trying to have a pleasant breakfast, here! You know I'm gonna be out on the job today! I could get killed! This could be the last breakfast I ever eat!"

This was a ploy Dad used frequently to get people in our family to shut up. Mom and I call it the "I could die today" ploy. Unfortunately he'd used it so frequently it had become completely ineffective. Ironically this time it was true. This would be Dad's last breakfast. But there was to be no peace.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 12

...

Dad shakes his head at me to indicate the answer I should give.

I am shaking my head too, at the same time. "No Ma'am," I answer. But I gulp and my eyes wander to the ceiling, giving away my guilt as I wonder if it might work in my favor explaining how it was worms not dirt that I was shoving down Geofrey's throat. So if you looked at it like that, technically I wasn't lying.

"So you didn't force Geoffrey to eat anything in front of the school, yesterday after school."

"No, I didn't force him to eat nothin'." (Still technically not a lie.)

"That's a double negative," Mom says cold-like.

"Oh was it? My mistake."

"So if you didn't... force him to eat nothin'... than you must've... forced him to eat sumpthin'..."

"Sorry, you lost me there," I say. My eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 11

...

"I'm sorry about the outburst," Dad says rolling his eyes a little. "It's just that when I was a kid there was something called a code. The Code of the Schoolyard. You don't rat out your classmates to adults."

I nod my head a bunch of times, hoping with a hope I know is in vain, that Mom will see Dad's sage logic, and stay out of it.

"Actually Atti... Geofrey didn't break the Code. It was an adult who saw it."

"Well I'm sure they were mistaken, right Scout?"

I nod vehemently.

"Oh, so you didn't shove dirt in anyone's mouth, Jean Louise?" Mom says, eyeing me like a cockroach in need of squishing.

Dad shakes his head at me to indicate the answer I should give.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 10

...

I glanced wearily and with some terror up at Mom. Relieved to see the brunt of her anger was currently on Dad for his infraction. We were both pretty terrified of the lady. Dad fidgeted a little in his seat, and I didn't blame nor envy him. Mom is a smallish thin African American lady with a small poofy circular fro, that Dad keeps trying to get her to straighten. I think that if she did straighten her hair, and her features somehow softened a little she'd look a little like Jada Pinkett Smith (or rather Niobe from the Matrix,) she definitely has one of those post-apocalypse demeanors.... Only meaner. I think you get the picture.

(For the record it was explained to me that I am white like Dad, instead of black like Mom, on account of how Dad won the coin toss, and they therefor adopted a little white baby instead of a black one. [Dad later further confided to me that said coin toss had been rigged. "A fact which your mother can never ever know or the world as we know it will come to an end" was how he put it at the time. And so she never did find that out.])

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 9

...

"Oh you've gotta be FUCKING kidding me! What a fucking squealer!" (Now that wasn't me that said that just now. That was Dad. I wouldn't dare talk that way to Mom.)

It's at this point that Mom slams the already nearly overflowing cussing jar down in front of Dad. The thousands of coins clatter against each other within as it thuds against the table. I hadn't noticed where she'd retrieved it from, but she apparently had it on hand, having seen Dad's outburst coming.

He sighed and tossed a quarter in. Mom held up two fingers, and Dad tossed a second quarter in, than muttered "Jesus Christ," and flicked a third in after it.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 8

...

7:21 AM - BREAKFAST WITH GEOFSAMA
...
(how the cussing jar got full)

7:21 and I was sitting in front of a steaming pile of pancake. Bacon on the side. I was buttering and pouring syrup simultaneous-like, (a skill taught to me by Dad,) when Mom started in.

"So Scout. You didn't by any chance... yesterday... force feed that skinny little Geoffrey Tennet boy dirt, while a bunch of your little friends held him down for you... did you?"

I squeeze down too hard on the syrup bottle as she's talking, and my cake pile is drenched.

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 7

...

I thought about that for a second... trying to figure out how that was funny.

"So guy comes to the precinct later, won't accept my apology, all pissed and shouting how I destroyed his life. And I say to him 'Sir Idunno what yer so mad at me about. You're the one that confessed.' And of course he say how the only reason he confessed was to get me to stop-- ... Well maybe I better save the rest of this story til you get a little older. Anyway the long and the short of it is, I felt really bad about it. I apologized like a million times, but dude didn't wanna hear it. Think he had some kinda mental problems... big baby really."

"Do you think maybe Geoffrey Tennet doesn't really have the Cooties?"

He shook his head, sadly. "No, he's got the Cooties all right. All people named Geoffrey have the Cooties... poor bastards," and with that he slammed the door shut.

As I stepped into the bathroom, I heard Dad's call: "Now hurry up and get downstairs and have breakfast! Today's a big a day!"

And I did. And it was.

-END CHAPTER 1-

...

flip page

flip back.

Page 6

...

"Geoffrey Tennet has the Cooties," I inform.

He nods, with a slight smirk on his face. Puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Well as reasons go... that's just about the best there is to make someone eat worms... etcetera. Now hurry up and shower and get dressed. I want pancakes." He gets up and walks for the door.

"Thanks Dad," I say smiling and opening the bathroom door back up. A great weight lifted off my shoulders.

"Funny thing," Dad adds, standing out in the hall and speaking into my room through the opened door. "Turned out the third time sex offender wasn't a third time sex offender at all! Wrong guy entirely! Big misunderstanding. But it all worked out in the end. He only went to prison for like... a month and a half. But I'm telling you, boy was my face red!" he said with a chuckle.

I thought about that for a second... trying to figure out how that was funny.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 5

...

"Um... I had a question..." I step back into the room, shut the bathroom door, and sigh.

He duplicates my motions. Stepping back into the room, and closing the door with a sigh. "What did you do?" he asks with interrogating eyes.

"No um, I didn't do anything... I was just gonna ask something."

"So ask." Cold cold tone.

"Is it wrong to... y'know? Beat the crap out of someone... and like... dunk their head in the toilet... rub their face in mud... make him eat worms while people hold him down... y'know that kinda thing?"

Dad seems to think about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Not if you have a good reason. I did way worse than that while getting a confession out of this third time sex offender. Child molester. I'm telling you, he was one sick f- u- c- k," he says, sitting on the edge of my bed as he finishes his sentence.

I nod. Knowing full well what Dad had spelled. "Geoffrey Tennet has the Cooties," I inform.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 4

...

"Don't take too long in there or there won't be any pancakes left for you!"

"There'd better be," I grumble back at him shaking a fist.

Dad and I each swing open our doors, his to the hallway, and mine to the bathroom at the same time. We each take a step through. Then I pause, and turn and say: "Dad?"

He pauses, turns, says: "yeah Sport?"

I sigh, bite my bottom lip a little. Gulp. Give him the once over before I ask. There he is: typical Dad. In typical form. Square jawed handsome broad-shouldered dude. His face covered in a light layer of stubble, that makes him look like a younger, bigger, handsomer Bruce Willis. Like Bruce Willis (or rather John McClane) Dad is a cop, which is about ten thousand times cooler then what mom is, (banker turned stay at home housewife,) and on top of all that he is a hero cop, who has received 3 medals for heroism for (1) shooting a couple of scum bag drug dealers in self defense, (2) for getting stabbed by a crazy homeless guy, and (3) for rescuing a crack baby from a burning building. It is for all of these reasons, that Dad is my moral compass, which is why I always get a little nervous when coming to him with questions of ethics in cases like this one, where I may already have crossed the line.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 3

...

"Mom cooked pancakes?" My eyes are wide.

He nods. Slowly. "And there's bacon too."

"You cooked bacon?"

He nods. Slowly again.

"She mad?"

"Oh yah. She's fuming. Worth it though!"

I nod in agreement. Sigh, looking down at the floor. "FIne. Hunger strike's off for one day."

He rolls his eyes, which I ignore as I crawl to my feet, and meander, with zombie-like form toward my bathroom, at the far corner of my gigantic stuffed animal strewn pink prison.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 2

...

So anyway: 5:59 AM. "Rise and shine, sweetheart," he says and tugs the blanket out from over my head, and kisses me on my forehead. I smile a little, but only involuntarily, then frown again and jerk the blanket back over my head. "Too early! More sleep!" I murmur demandingly. A moment later and the blanket and sheet are torn cruelly off of me and my purple pajamas, exposing us to the semi-cold Connecticut Autumn air. I curl into the fetal position, in protest. My eyes shut tight. "Too early!" I murmur again. That 's when the mattress tips over, and I go crashing onto the hard wood floor. My knees and palms sting from the impact.

"Crap! Ow! You're so evil!" i inform him.

"Kiddo, you have no idea," he says grinning. Gestures with a thumb for the door. "Up and at 'em! Breakfast and school await!"

"I don't want your prison food!"

"Fine." He shrugs. "More pancakes for me."

"Mom cooked pancakes?" My eyes are wide.

...

flip page,

flip back.

Page 1

...

6:59 AM - "RISE AND SHINE, SWEETHEART."
...
(a last real conversation with dad)

5:59 AM was the hour at hand. A ghastly and ungodly hour to wake a child, but that's the nature parents, isn't it? "Cruel and unreasonable big people, who use their superior size and resources to control their young." - (That's also a definition from Webster's English Dictionary.)

"Rise and shine, sweetheart," were the words my father said to me. Those are the words I remember best from that day. Those weren't his last words, but they may as well have been.... And I suppose they were certainly more sentimental than his actual last words which were something like: "Arg. Oh God that hurts. Where the fuck are my legs and lower torso? Oh fuck." See? Not nearly as swell.

...

flip page,

flip back.

... a word of introduction ... and warning ...

...

This is the story of the day that cooties ate my father.

Webster's English Dictionary defines "cooties" as "a fictional malady, horrid little children use to isolate the less popular amongst their herd, in the interests of crushing the delicate sensibilities of these more sensitive children before they have a chance to grow into their future betters."

Now Idunno what the heck most of that means, but obviously this Webster dude has never had the misfortune of meeting a real cootie in his annoyingly blissful lifetime, because his definition is dead wrong. Cooties are anything but fictional. I know. I saw my father torn limb from limb from them. So I of all people know that cooties are QUITE real.

Be warned this is not... absolutely NOT a tale for the faint of heart. Over the course this absolutely one hundred and ten percent true story, Cooties WILL eat my father. And it won't be like in Little Red Riding Hood where the lumberjack comes along at the end, and chops the Cootie's stomach open, and out fall Little Red Riding Hood and Gramma and my Dad fully intact and unharmed. There will be BLOOD and GUTS everywhere! And nothing on earth will be able to put my father back together, and bring him back to me ever again.

And by the time this story ends I will have sacrificed my own life to save all of you.

So no... this tale is not... for the faint of heart. This tale is about Cooties. And Cooties.... are no fucking joke my friend.

Don't believe me? Wait and see.

flip page.