Chapter 6: I’m Too Sexy

Homeroom, Medway High School

8:31am, Tuesday, November 13, 1979

I just about had a heart attack when I heard Mr. Williamson announce that our Friday Championship game’s start time against Parkside at UWO’s JW Little Memorial Stadium was moved to a 1pm from the originally scheduled 3pm kickoff time. I’m pretty sure that Sammy was the only other person in homeroom who realized that we now had a monumental scheduling conflict on our hands, as she bolted straight up in her desk and stared over at me.

“Gawd, no,” I muttered halfway under my breath as I not so gently slammed my hands onto my desk.

“What is it, Mike?” Tempe, who was volunteering again asked as she quickly turned her naked body around in her desk’s seat.

With most everyone’s eyes on me, now, I figured I might as well get this out of the way and said, “Our NIS band challenge performance is set for twelve-thirty on Friday. There’s no earthly way I can do that and be over at Western in time for our football game,” I disgustedly replied.

“Save all that ‘till the announcements are done, please,” Mr. Ballas asked from the front of the room.

“Sorry, sir,” I replied and then rested my head on my desk as Mr. Williamson completed his morning announcements. Our VP once more related the Tuesday request rules for the NIS program, and then added that Mr. Chidly was still out sick.

After the announcements, Mr. Ballas said, “Mike, Samantha, I think you may want to run down to the office to talk with Mr. Williamson about this. He may not be able to do anything about that conflict, However if anyone can, our VP will be the person to do it.”

“We’ll keep our fingers crossed that Mr. W will be able to help you guys,” Elizabeth said as Sammy and I got up to head out before the homeroom bell sounded.

“I’ll see you in English, Mike. Good luck in the office,” Tempe replied as she fidgeted with her NIS volunteer necklace and safety whistle.

“Be careful and make sure folks know you’re a volunteer, and that you don’t have to do any requests,” I replied and blew her a kiss before I walked out the door.

Mr. Williamson looked like he was going to throw up when Sammy and I told him about my now conflicting events on Friday afternoon. Even though he knew we had our Time Bandettes’ performance, he didn’t think about it conflicting with the championship football game when he and Mr. St. Georges talked with the Parkside coaches, plus the athletic people at Western about moving the start time up to 1pm. They all believed it was a good idea to hopefully eliminate any ‘darkness’ issues like we had last week in the Central Elgin game with that long injury delay.

“I know there is no way we’ll be able to change the start time of the football game, Mike. However, I’ll call the coordinator of the NIS band challenge and see if we can change your performance time to a morning time slot,” Mr. Williamson said as he flipped through his rolodex for the required telephone number. After he pulled the card out, he looked at the two of us and said, “You guys might as well head onto music, and I’ll come and find you to let you know if I’m able to swing a new performance time.”

“Okay and thanks for doing this for us,” Sammy replied with a semi-smile.

“I’m just sick that neither Paul nor I thought about your NIS band performance when we lobbied for the change in that game’s starting time,” Mr. Williamson softly said. “We thought we were doing a good thing.”

“Coach,” I softly said to get his attention. When he looked up from that rolodex card, I asked, “What should I do if I have to make a choice on what to miss? Our band’s performance could be a once in a lifetime event, and I love my bandmates. Plus, Lisa more than likely won’t be able to play with us on Friday, so the others are really counting on me. However, I’ve always been a sports person, and I don’t want to hurt thirty-seven guys, plus our coaches by skipping out on them. Heck, we’re undefeated this year for the first time in five seasons ... playing against those big St. Thomas and Elgin County boys.”

“Mike ... I just don’t know what to tell you, son. You and the Bandettes are amazingly gifted musicians, who just signed a recording contract. So ... this band challenge could be a career defining event for you kids. Honestly, I’m not sure that any of your football teammates, other than Brad, have a shot at using football to better themselves like you and your band can with this NIS concert.”

“Long term career wise, I can’t argue with that, Sir,” I replied as I scuffed the tiles with my low-top Chucks. I sighed and then added, “This just sucks! Can I be excused from music to go talk with Froggie, please?”

“I’ll walk out with you, kids and get Ms. Stone to give you late slips,” Mr. Williamson said as he snapped that rolodex card down on his large wooden desk.

Sammy and I commiserated with each other as we walked down the main hallway to the rear cross hall. “Are you really going to tell Mr. St. Georges that you’ll miss either the start or the whole game on Friday?” Sammy softly asked as we stopped at the hallways’ junction.

“Well, let me put it this way, Sammy. Would you pick the band challenge and possibly getting on national TV over one of your Wushu competitions or adding another black belt ranking?”

“I see where you’re going with this, but those events would just impact me if I didn’t fight or test out. You’re decision impacts more people than just you, Mike.”

“You four girls and I could become seriously famous, and we won’t have to worry about our educations, if we win this competition. Football, on the other hand, is a fun game, but it is ... just a fun game. There may be five or six players from both Medway and Parkside, who are good enough to play in college, and I’d have a heart attack if anybody is good enough to play in the CFL,” I confidently said as I held both of her hands.

“Hopefully, Mr. W can get our performance time moved to the morning, and all this turns out to be a bunch of wasted worrying,” Sammy replied as she stepped between my arms to give me a small kiss on my nose.

“As Elizabeth said, we need to keep our fingers crossed ‘till we hear about that,” I half-heartedly laughed and gave Sammy a light tap on her shoulder. Sammy immediately held up her hands with her fingers crossed for me to see.

“I don’t envy you, having this talk with Coach, Cuda. Good luck with it.”

“Thanks, Wushu. Have fun in music.”

When Mr. St. Georges saw me walk into the gym as he was team-teaching basketball with Mr. Reid to their combined ninth and tenth grade boys PE classes, he motioned to his teaching partner to take charge of all the students.

“I don’t like that look, Nevins,” my favorite coach said as he walked over to me.

“Because I’m really not liking what I have to tell you, Coach,” I replied as I leaned against the wall of the gym.

“Come, my office,” he sternly said before he changed directions about ten feet from me. After I followed him into the PE office, he asked, “Is this a private matter or can Coach Skop hear what you have to say?”

“Skop can stay,” I glumly replied as I slumped down in the chair across from their desks.

“What’s gotten under your skin, Mike?” Coach St. Georges asked from behind his desk.

“With our game now at 1pm, I’ve got a major league conflict with that NIS band challenge. Me and the Bandettes are scheduled to perform at twelve-thirty on Friday,” I succinctly replied in a surprisingly calm voice.

“You’re scheduled to perform at twelve-thirty!” Coach Skopliannos exclaimed as his feisty Greek spirit clearly made its presence known.

“I’m guessing that TR (Mr. Williamson) didn’t know about your performance time when we got the game time changed,” Coach St. Georges added in a calmer than I expected voice.

“No, Sir. Sammy and I just finished telling him about our performance time after his morning announcements. He’s going to try to get our NIS performance time moved to the morning, but I just have a bad feeling about this,” I replied.

“Well, you’ll just have to skip that NIS band thing, then,” Coach Skop forcefully said as he leaned forward with his forearms on his desk.

“Chris, don’t go there,” Coach St. Georges said to the younger teacher and Head JV football coach.

“But this is the championship game versus some band concert thing, Paul, Mike,” my future high school defensive coordinator and secondary coach stated.

“You’ve never heard Mike and his band play, have you, Chris? As good as Mike is at football and basketball, he and the Bandettes are miles above that level as a band. Plus, the scholarships and TV opportunity from winning this NIS band competition dwarf playing in a high school game ... even if it’s for a championship,” Coach St. Georges replied before I could say anything.

“How am I gonna tell my teammates that I may miss the start of; hell, possibly the ha-whole damn game?” I asked with my voice now breaking up as I cussed that last statement.

“You don’t tell a soul about this, understood? That is my job as the head coach,” Coach St. Georges quickly ordered my silence on this issue. He then added, “I’ll have Mr. Williamson call a football team meeting, if we’re positive that there is a real time conflict. Until then, we’re planning on you being our starting quarterback in Friday’s game.”

“A few folks already know about this, Coach ... from my homeroom class. Hopefully, it won’t spread like that shower incident did,” I softly said.

“You better have TR call that meeting ASAP, Paul,” Coach Skop immediately added with a half chuckle.

“Yes, damn it,” Coach St. Georges fumed when he realized that something this big in Medway’s small world would spread like wild-fire. “I’m going to run up to the main office. Mike, you have like twenty minutes until the end of the first period. If you want to head to your class, you can. If you want to hang here, that is fine with me, too.”

“Well, Sammy and Lynette are in music, and they’ll be wondering what is going on. I better head over there to talk with them,” I replied and then pushed up from the chair at the same time Coach did.

“Okay. Just listen for an announcement,” Coach St. Georges said as he headed right, while I walked left from his office.

When I stepped into the back of the music room, Mr. Ballows immediately stopped the students’ playing of Chicago’s 25 or 6 to 4. Everyone instantly turned towards me, with Sammy and Cano nearly jumping up from their front row flute positions to check on me.

“How did Coach take your news, Mike?” our music teacher asked. I quickly surmised that Sammy and/or the others from my homeroom had informed the Little-man of my reason for missing most of his class.

“He, ah, he said I had to do the band challenge,” I replied in a semi-zombie like tone.

“Coach is a smart man, and he understands the true importance of this NIS band competition to you and your band mates,” Mr. Ballows replied. “I still hope Mr. Williamson is able to get your performance time changed.”

“Jeeze, that would be ideal!” Cano replied as I slumped down into my back row seat beside Andrew Werring.

“Can I ask everyone here a favor, please?” I tiredly asked.

“Go ahead and ask, Mike,” our music teacher replied with concern in his voice.

“When class is done, please don’t share anything about this band-football conflict with anyone. Most of my teammates don’t know about this, and me or Coach St. Georges would like to tell them about it instead of them hearing it via the Medway rumor mill. I really can’t handle another major rumbling, right now.”

“We won’t say anything, Mike,” Heidi replied from beside Cano.

“Yeah, Mike. None of us will mention this,” Jason Duffy said from a few seats down from me.

“We just hope that your band performance will get moved, so you can play in the championship game,” Kalena added.

“Speaking of your band, how is Ms. Lisa doing? I heard that she was admitted to St. Joe’s,” Mr. Ballows asked.

“The flu bug really dehydrated her. She’s still had a couple of IVs going last night, and the antibiotics seemed to be working, but I have no idea about when she’ll be well enough to go home or start playing with us,” I replied.

“So who is playing the bass for you guys, if Brick isn’t able to?” Jason asked.

“I’m going to play the bass,” Sammy replied with a smile.

“Sammy did a great job last night in practice,” Cano added with a shoulder shake of our redheaded friend.

Just then, the first period warning bell sounded, and the rest of my music classmates quickly set about putting their instruments away in their cases and in their storage spots. Between that warning bell and the final bell, Mr. Williamson’s voice came over the school’s intercom speakers.

“May I have your attention, please? All varsity football players please report to the team locker room. Again, all varsity football players please head to the team locker room. Teachers, please allow these players into their second period classes without an office note. Thank you.”

When that announcement ended, I just shook my head and mumbled, “This ain’t gonna be fun.”

“This isn’t your fault, Cuda,” Andrew said as he slipped his trombone case into its storage slot.

“Still, I’m gonna be letting all my teammates down by not being there for them,” I said as I waited for Geoff Thrilwall, my only football teammate in this music class.

“Some guys might be PO’ed, Mike, but we’ll manage it; just like we would have if your ankle was hurt more than it is,” Geoff replied as he pushed me towards the door.

“Thanks, Geoff but...” I said and then let that negativity die as we hit the hallway.

“We’ll be thinking of you, Cuda,” Cano said as most of my friends headed up the rear stairwell to our second period English class.

I wasn’t surprised that a few of my teammates were giving me a hard stare after I walked into the locker room or when they came in after me. As I feared, it took less than an hour for word to spread about this shitty Friday situation.

When all but a few of my teammates were in the locker room, Coaches St. Georges, Loft, Pierce and Skopliannos, plus Mr. Williamson walked into the room. Our head coach took a quick look around to get a feel for the room’s chilly climate and then said, “I’m guessing most of you know why we called this meeting. For those of you who haven’t heard, Mike and his band are scheduled to compete in that NIS band challenge at twelve-thirty on Friday. Neither Mr. Williamson nor I thought about his band responsibility before we made a call to the Parkside’s coaches, and Western’s athletic people to get our game moved to one-o’clock. For the record, Mike had absolutely nothing to do with this time conflict and it is entirely my fault that he will miss ... at least the start of our game on Friday. No one ... and I mean NO ... ONE is to blame Mike or make him feel any worse than he already does about missing the first part of our game on Friday. Every one of you, if you were honest with yourself, would try to win a nationally televised concert appearance and a full scholarship ... if you were in his shoes.”

Most of my teammates dropped their heads in thought at Coach’s final words. After a few moments of heavy silence, our resident humorist and current naked NIS student, Paul McKenly jokingly said, “I’d give my left nut for a full college scholarship, Mike.”

Paul’s words broke the ice and a good number of my teammates fired off something along those lines, which made me feel a whole lot better.

I nearly died when Gary said to his best friend, “I’ll get the cleaver and we’ll do that surgery, Paul.”

When I looked over at Ronnie, I could tell he wasn’t super happy, though. I got up from the bench and walked over to one of my favorite receivers and asked, “Are you okay with this, Ronnie?”

“I’m happy that you’re getting a chance at those scholarships and that TV gig, Mike. It’s just that ... now, I’ve gotta play F-ing quarterback in the biggest game of my life!”

“You’ll do a great job, Ronnie,” I offered as I squeezed his right shoulder. “I’ll be at practices to give you as much help as I possibly can.”

“God, Mike. Just get over to Western as soon as possible after your performance so we can get back to our normal selves, ‘kay?” Ronnie sighed as Coach came over to hear what we were saying.

“We’ll split the reps at these next couple of practices, guys. Geoff, you’ll be moving into Ronnie’s receiver spot, and Chris, you’ll be taking Mike’s safety position on defense. Both of you guys have to get your heads screwed on right to handle things in this championship game, okay?”

“Yes, Sir/Coach,” Geoff and Chris both replied from their spots in the locker room.

“Guys, if I may?” Mr. Williamson called out after my teammates were slowly settling down from this unwelcomed body-blow. When our VP had our attention, he said, “I’m still waiting on a call from the NIS Band Challenge coordinator. There is a chance that we can get the Bandettes’ performance moved to the morning. I want to reiterate Coach’s words by saying I’m really sorry for not having Mike’s band challenge information handy when we made that suggested time change. That is all on me, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

“As I just told Mike in music, Mr. Williamson ... we’ll overcome this like we would have done if his ankle injury was worse than it currently is,” Geoff Thirlwall replied to our VP’s apology.

“I know you guys will do your best and make all of us at Medway proud,” Mr. Williamson said as he wiped a single tear from his cheek. He then turned to youngest player on our team and said, “I hope you catch two or three TDs on Friday, Geoff.”

“I’ll do my best, Coach W.”

Our VP then said to everyone, “Quickly and relatively quietly, head on out to your second period classes.”

On our way up to Mrs. Pierce’s English class, Brad asked, “If you performance is at twelve-thirty, about what time do you think you can get over to JW stadium, Cuda?”

I slowed my pace down some as I thought about Brad’s question. I then softly said, “I bet we won’t be done playing at the Labatt Center ‘till one, one-fifteen at the earliest. Then, I think it take like another fifteen-twenty minutes to get from the JLC to the stadium, so, ah ... I realistically see myself getting with you guys for ... the second half of the game.”

“That ain’t too bad, Mike,” Geoff replied with a semi-smile.

“Well, I guess with you two guys adding to Medway’s NIS-sports connection as TR put it on Monday, you’ll more than hang with the Stampeders ‘till I get there,” I chuckled as we stepped into Mrs. P’s class.

“Welcome, welcome to my class. I’m glad my two naked boys and our drama king were able to grace us with their presence,” Mrs. Pierce theatrically announced, hoping to take the edge off the tension our appearance just created in her classroom.

“How it go down there, Mike?” Tempe softly asked as I walked to my desk behind hers.

“About as good as I’d hoped. Coach St. Georges and Mr. Williamson took full responsibility for creating the time conflict. My teammates weren’t happy with things, but they understood why I was going to miss at least the start of the game,” I replied in a defeated manner. Even with it being just slightly after nine in the morning, I felt drained of my body’s energy.

The remainder of my morning’s classes was just a blur as I basically vegged-out in English, Chemistry and Math. Thankfully, my teachers realized that I was in no frame of mind to answer any type of question that required more than a simple ‘yes or no’ type response. Even then, I couldn’t remember if my simple replies were correct.

As we were heading out of Math, Tempe asked, “I know we can’t go for our fifth period run with your ankle still hurting, but what about going to the mezzanine with me so we can lift some weights. You can help me with some of my flexibility drills, too?”

“Getting a workout will do you good, Cuda,” Cano replied after I kinda scrunched up my face at Tempe’s suggestion.

“Ya can’t argue with that, Mike,” Elizabeth added with a smile.

“Okay, let’s go grab our gym bags from our lockers,” I replied as I took a hold of Tempe’s left hand.

When we arrived at the regular locker rooms, Tempe acted like she was going to follow me into the boys’ locker. “What are you doing, B-G?” I quizzed my naked girlfriend.

“I’m going in there to change with you ... and to support Cano and Deb,” Tempe quickly replied and slipped by me into the boys’ locker room hall. All I could do was chuckle and follow her through the locker entrance.

“Whoa!” “Dang!” and “Gawd, Tempe’s naked!” were just a few of the surprised shouts that echoed in the guys’ change room when my naked girlfriend moved to where Deb Watney and Lynette were sitting.

“Hey, Girlfriend!” Cano said as she adjusted her full breasts within her open-cupped bra. “Decided to change with the boys, did you?”

“Not that we mind the competition,” Deb chuckled as she did up the two hooks on her supportive, open-cupped bra.

“I just wanted to be as much help to you as possible,” Tempe replied as she dug out her black demi-bra from her gym bag.

“You can put your workout clothes on, Tempe,” I said after I saw her zip up her bag with just that one undergarment in her hands.

“I would if I had them. I didn’t think I’d need more than this when I left the house this morning. I wasn’t planning on getting a workout in with your ankle still hurting,” Tempe replied.

I have my basketball t-shirt you can wear, Tempe,” Cano said.

“Nah. We’re just going upstairs to lift weights and stretch, so I’m good like this.”

“I’ll grab a couple of towels, so we can wipe down the machines,” I said as I pulled up my shorts over my jockstrap.

“You’re not going to work out ... au-naturel with your naked girlfriend, Cuda?” Deb teased me as I walked to snag a couple of towels.

“Ahhhh, no,” I laughed in response to our girl’s back up point guard’s question.

“We’ll see you folks at the end of the period,” Tempe said as we walked out the front exit, while Cano, Deb and the tenth grade boys left through the gym entrance.

On our way up the side stairs, I started to hum a goofy little ditty as I watched Tempe’s nearly naked breasts bounce on each of her double stair climbs. When we walked past our lockers on the way to the mezzanine, she finally asked, “Just what is that song you’re hummin’, Mike?”

I laughed and started to sing in a deep, pinched off voice:

As I sang that second little verse, I reached out and lightly fingered Tempe’s left exposed nipple as she laughed, and then jumped away from my finger flick. I stopped singing that future, number one dance tune hit, when she opened the door to the mezzanine weight room and gymnastics/wrestling mats area.

(Note: I’m Too Sexy was written by Fred and Richard Fairbrass and Rob Manzoli of the British techno group, Right Said Fred. It was released as a single in 1991, and became RSF’s biggest hit. I’m Too Sexy reached the top spot in six main countries, including the Canada’s Dance RPM, and the United States’ Billboard Hot 100 charts. It also was voted #2 on VH1’s 40 Greatest One-Hit Wonders list.)

“Jeeze, Mike, you’re just not right in the head. First, you sang that wonderful, Rock My World song to me. Then you are sweet to Canella with Secret. Then, you make fun of Lisa and me in the past two days with that Sickness song and this, this...”

“I wasn’t making fun of you or Lisa. That was called, ‘I’m Too Sexy‘, and I just couldn’t help myself after seeing your boobs bounce up the stairs a moment ago,” I honestly said but with a slight laughing nature.

“I’m not upset, Mike. It just kills me that you can take either a serious event or a nothing moment, and turn them into some wonderful or asinine at the drop of a hat.”

“Like I said the other day, I just get these lyrics running through my head and if the moment feels right, I just go with the flow. Just know that neither Sickness and Diseases nor I’m Too Sexy will never be on a Mike and the Time Bandettes’ playlists. I will throw a major Pete Townsend hissy-fit and destroy all my guitars if the Bandettes ever vote to play them in a concert or even in a guest house performance.”

“You are just too funny, Mike!” Tempe laughed as we walked over to the central Cybex weight machine unit in the mezzanine.

Tempe and I spent the next twenty-five minutes alternating sets between our chest and back, quads and hamstrings, shoulders and calf muscles, and finally biceps and triceps. It was a million times easier to get a fast workout in on this Cybex unit than with the free weights that lined the wall of the mezzanine area. Tempe was easily able to adjust both the amount of resistance and the machine’s seat/handle positioning after I did my much heavier set of twelve to fifteen reps.

After Tempe and I had worked out most of our main muscle groups, she asked me to help spot her as she completed some major flexibility drills. When she had done her ‘normal stretches’, Tempe said, “I’m gonna need help with my balance as I do these next couple of split stretches, Mike.”

“Tell me what you need, B-G,” I replied as I watched this nearly naked gymnast move a padded bench over to the two-inch thick mats. My eyes just about bugged out of my skull when Tempe put her right foot on that one-foot-six-inch bench and proceeded to do a straight leg, sideways split with her left foot out on the gymnastics’ mat.

“Hold my elbows for balance, Mike,” Tempe instructed as her torso sank lower and lower until I swear her low hanging pussy lips were almost touching the mat. Tempe’s legs were well beyond straight as she strained to push her crotch into the mat.

After holding that crazy split leg position for fifteen seconds, Tempe struggled to softly say, “Lift up slowly, please.”

With me controlling her one-hundred-ish pounds in my hands, Tempe smiled at me and said, “One more of these, Mike,” before I felt her body start another slow downward motion.

With her face just slightly lower than my crotch as she strained to increase her hip flexibility, it was impossible for her not to see my tented shorts. When she peered up at my face with a gleam in her eyes, I softly said, “Sorry ‘bout that, Tempe. You really should have put your shorts or panties on when you decided to stretch like that.”

“Gawd! Lift, Mike,” Tempe huffed after that second fifteen second stretch. I lifted her right up off the ground to get both of her legs under her body before I lowered her down to the mat. With that gleam still in her blue eyes, she said, “Doing anything with your equipment was the furthest thing on my mind when I was stretched out like that.”

“And with your legs stretched way beyond humanly possible like that, doing everything imaginable to you was the only thing on my mind,” I honestly replied as I pulled her into my chest.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little longer to do those ‘everything imaginable’ things because I’ve got two more inhumane stretches to do before we call it a day,” Tempe said as she tilted her head up to receive a small peck on her lips.

Tempe then did a similar splits stretch, but with her legs in a forward and backward orientation, instead of in that prior side-side split. For these two split stretches, I straddled her forward leg and held her forearms for support as she forced her crotch down towards the mat.

After Tempe switched legs and pressed down for her first stretch, Sammy poked her head in the mezzanine to see how we were doing. Similar to my prior state of disbelief, Sammy cried, “That is obscenely impressive, Tempe! Gawd, Girlfriend! I’d so need an ambulance if I had to stretch that far!”

“Come on in, Sammy,” I said as I silently counted to fifteen before lifting up on Tempe’s arms to hold her steady before her second, fifteen second obscenely impressive split stretch. When I felt Tempe’s arm drop, I knew she wanted to begin this last stretch.

“That is just ... that’s not right, Tempe. Gawd, Mike ... her pretty lips are touching the mat!” Sammy bewilderedly exclaimed and without any sexual connotations in her voice.

“Lifffftttt,” Tempe groaned after that incredible hip flexibility display.

Once more, I easily lifted her lean, mean body off the ground to allow her feet to reposition under her torso. Before I lowered her down, I pulled her body to mine and kissed her chin, lips, nose and forehead as I slowly set her on her feet.

“I’ve seen Jennifer stretching up here, and she can’t hold a candle to you in the flexibility department, Tempe,” Sammy said as we sat down on that padded bench.

“I may have her beat in the flexibility department, but Jenn can do upper body moves that would crush me if I tried to do them,” Tempe replied as she quickly shook out the uncomfortableness from her hips and legs.