Fall in May

~12~ Lunch with Batgirl

I also quickly surmise that Freshmeat are not allowed past the "Go" at the ass end of the mural, without an expressed pass out of their place. I'm sure some clever flocker has already named this the "Do not pass Go rule."

This point is driven home with a vengeance when some Sophomore snatches a Freshman's snack tray right out of his helpless hands. Then slaps the meat on the back of the head and points back to the crappy back end of the shelter. Head hung low the Freshmeat smiles once in apology for his grave offense and heads back to his place where it's safe. The tribute paid and the hard lesson learned, this kid will probably never cross the 'Go' again for the rest of the year. To be fair, as far as institutional bullying goes, I think it was rather kindly in comparison of some unwritten rules code enforcement that I have witnessed at my old school.  

Truth be told, I've never really participated in a lot of the traditional bullying. But I have been entertained by it from time to time. I personally prefer my hate to be more personal, especially when the Skinheads where on the receiving end of the violence. Hell, at my old school bullying the "Shitheads" wasn't technically even considered bullying at all, not in the traditional sense of the word. Stomping Shitheads was considered a community service by most Sunset kids, like picking up trash at the beach. The main reason you went to school in the first place, because beating Neo-Nazi shitheads half to death wasn't just right ...it was a rite of passage. 

Niemöller's infamous poem "First they came", posed that very question. When do you stand up against the Nazis? Back in Sunset at Seaside High that answer was easy ...immediately on sight! Hit first, hit hardest, hit last and they will never forget your name. We beat them, broke them and stomped them into blood and bones until they got the point. The point of course being, transfer schools to get away from us, because Setters hate Nazi "Shitheads" with a passion that rivals the Sun. And like the Sun, that burning hate was very special and sacred thing.

While thinking these warm thoughts of home, I continue scanning the crowding shelter looking for my "hide-n-seek" lunch date. But I can't seem to spot May or her big white walking stick anywhere among the throngs of flocking falcons. May is diminutive to begin with, but in a maelstrom sea of jostling new faces all jockeying for a pole positions? Spotting the one face I know seems a nearly impossible game to win, at least until the flock starts to settle down into their nesting spots.

Until I see a trickle of kids starting to come out of the onsite snack shack thing. I recall May saying something this morning about the school lunches and variety being the spice of life. So I drift down the side of the shelter towards the Freshmeat section and the greasy grey double doors marked "Cafe". Which is when I spot the other Grimm sister in the mix, as she pushes backwards past a pair of double doors. Laughing fauxly at something someone said, that must have required her fourth best fake laugh.  

The Sinister Sister, as I have taken to thinking about her, looks extra super perky in her cheery best first day Fearleader ensemble. A super short strippery micro mini skirt and matching sweater vest thing, just in case her chest gets cold between pole dances. Her big bright winning smile is super shiny, and her perfect sway-sway ponytail is pulled back extra tight to reveal her super smooth ivory skin.

Even I have to admit that her ponytail is so unbelievably perfect. I really have wonder if she gets her perfect ponytail intentionally cut razor sharp, so it slices her victims just right. The bone blonde mane bobs excitedly as she bouncy walks in a suggestive manner, with a heavy emphasis on her pelvic hip thrusts under her super short micro skirt.

I dismiss all this as only mildly relevant to my existence. What is highly relevant to my game of Hide-n-Seek are the two snack boxes the demoness is carrying in front of her. Like a shield against all the "unpopular little people" who are her Freshmeat classmates. I know I could be polite or even nice, and offer to help her carry one of the trays, thus making her burden easier...but I don't. Instead, I keep my distance and follow her through the throngs. Not to close, but not letting her out of my sight either. Stalking her like a wounded wildebeest, as she navigates through the uncool masses that are obviously "so totes not on her level" and back towards what I hope is the right grim spot.