Chapter 10

Mom went a little crazy, and made a whole roast suckling pig with rings of fresh pineapple on top for supper. The pineapple juice, fresh, has an enzyme which sort of pre-digests the proteins, making that little sucker so tender the meat dissolves in your mouth. The dark brown skin was crisp and crunchy.

It was treats like this which prevented me from being a vegetarian, in spite of my empathy for the little baby piggy and its no doubt distraught mother. The starch was rice, with a sweet and sour sauce, and unfortunately Mom decided Brussels sprouts were the vegetable of choice this night.

I suppose you could get used to eating skunk cabbage if you had to, but there was something swampy about the taste of Brussels sprouts. I took and ate the prerequisite three, smothering them in tangy sweet and sour sauce.

Oh well, the Universe balances, and the tender sweet suckling pig melting so richly in my mouth made up for the bitter taste. Mom asked me what that whole thing was about with the Hug Monster, and I told her about how I had herded the lost waif home, and the subsequent observed personality change. Mom just gave me a knowing look and a "Humph". I guess things like this did happen fairly regularly around me, but she allowed it to pass without further comment.

I did my usual exercise routine in the garage, took my shower, and spent half an hour quality time with my folks before heading to bed. In the morning, it was Beth curled up against my back. I woke her, and sent her back to her room while I took care of my morning routine. I dressed in my most colorful clothing, which was still pretty subdued, but I had to do my part to dispel the darkness still lingering at school.

I headed down to the kitchen, and whipped up some pancake batter, and started cooking and stacking pancakes I had sprinkled with blueberries while the first side browned as the coffee brewed. We had some pure maple syrup and whipped butter, and Mom came along in time to set the table and put out the milk and jam caddy before the thundering herd arrived to the table. I put the last few pancakes on to brown, and went to grab some before they were gone. Mom got up to flip the last pancakes, and turned off the range to let them finish on residual heat. I left the cleanup to the twins, passed out the hugs and ran for the bus.

I was gratified to note that the percentage of people wearing black clothing had dwindled to a more normal percentage, and I had nothing against a few hard-core goths or punks, as long as it was all in balance. There was some mascara still, but if the bus was a representative sample of the school at large, we were back to 'normal' if there was such a critter. The colors hadn't faded though, and I was glad to see that a random sample of a bright color was indicating that the freedom coalition was alive and strong.

I paid attention to the bus driver for once. He was in his mid twenties, and had been fairly invisible to me before now, perhaps because he used the crappy AM radio as camouflage. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and I sat up front, and talked a little with him.

I asked him if he was a musician, and he seemed surprised, and asked me how I knew. I told him that a little bird had told me, which he didn't believe, but since he had no other explanation since no one at school knew of his double life. He opened up to me somewhat, and told me how he played a saxophone in a jazz club up the Cape on weekends. I expressed my interest, and got him to wax poetical for awhile before he came to himself and shut down his untypical effusion.

I patted him on the shoulder and thanked him, telling him I would talk with him later then.

The social scene in the Quad was chaos, with the beleaguered Seniors deeply entrenched to protect their dwindling territory. There had been many defectors from their camp, who were now part of the freewheeling common grounds which had absorbed the Juniors and Sophomores entirely.

The entire Quad excluding the Seniors who were still defending their patch of earth embarked for the halls five minutes before the bell, in a spontaneous eruption of student bodies that caught the Seniors by surprise, although it should not have.

The Seniors were quite disgruntled to find that not only were they not the first in the halls, they were the last, unless they had traitorously abandoned the Senior encampment for the open plains of studentdom. Everyone got to class on time, today.

Miss Holly was several minutes late, sweaty and flushed. She had been beating her box, jilling off, rocking her little man in the boat. I sighed. I didn't think she would make the rest of the week without acting out on her lush fantasies. Well, I wouldn't intervene unless I had my girlfriend's permission.

I got to homeEc early, and told Tiff how it was. She sighed, and told me to make sure I destroyed Miss Holly's fantasy completely with my awkward reality. I let her know it was an duty and not a pleasure, and that I wasn't looking forward to it.

At the very least, it is wise not to confuse the difference between fantasy and reality. Nothing wrong with an unrealistic fantasy as long as you didn't try to make it real. Life so seldom follows the scripts we write in our minds, making rehearsing the actions and words of others in advance a waste of effort and time. The They in your head hardly ever, or make that never, behaves like the They really do. Nothing wrong with scripting, just so long as it is recognized as fantasy.