When we arrive at art class Mr. Glasgow is waiting for everyone else to get there.
"We'll wait for anybody who got lost smoking pot behind the school, and then we'll begin." Mr Glasgow jokes. Art class and marijuana go hand in hand.
A few minutes pass and Mr. Glasgow begins to speak. "Okay, today we'll be making clay sculpture. Yours will be of anything you want it to be but it must be stable enough to survive the drying process. Please pass around the buckets of clay and remember that thin pieces of your structure will fall off and you will fail." He says as he shows us a sculpture he claims is of his wife but looks strikingly like Mrs. Steel.
Even the perfect 34-year old bust is definitely Mrs. Steel. That's what I'll sculpt. A life-size Mrs. Steel. Perfect. I've always wanted one.
Jelly sits across from me, facing me in art class. We could sit beside each other as there is no seating arrangement or at least not one that's set in stone.
Steve is in our art class, but he sits across the classroom with Soap-box, Sophia Boxin. She's the only girl in school with a mohawk, and she sings for one of Steve's new bands. Jelly and Sophia had sex one in front of everyone at a party a few years ago and ever since then they can't really make eye contact. I wasn't there. Sometimes I wish I was there to see it and other times I wish I was there to stop it. I have mixed feelings.
I think Steve and Soap-box are having sex. They spend a lot of time together for two rather introverted artist types. I bet they crank The Dead Kennedys and have the wildest, fastest, hardest sex you've ever seen while Jello Biafra screams "Nazi Punks, Fuck Off!". That's just what I imagine though. It's probably not true.
I'm staring at Jellys cleavage. It's glistening with sparkles and looks amazing today. She's sculpting some sort of automobile. I'm not sure yet but it's really coming along and me? I've been needing the clay with my hands for almost fifteen minutes.
"Do you like Megan McGuire?" Jelly asks me, snapping me out of my daydream. I've always liked Megan McGuire. I like everything right down to her name that sounds like it's from a Marvel comic book.
"She's a nice person." I tell Jelly while wondering why the hell she's inquiring...
"She gave me a note to give to you and I threw it away." Jelly says while sculpting headlights on her automobile.
"Why did you throw it away?" I ask her as I tilt my head and roll my clay into a cylindrical shape on the table.
"I threw it away because I heard she has genital herpes and Wednesday wouldn't be the same for you if you contracted that." Jelly says with a smirk.
She's right. I've heard that rumor too. I also heard that Megan got gang banged by a party of gutter punks in their thirties last summer and I heard it from a very good source, Steve. Who happens to claim he was there and is guilty of partially influencing it and participating. He gets a blue ribbon.
"Well it would have been nice to read it." I say to her as I add a base at the end of my cylinder.
"I read it. She caught you checking out her ass and thought the two of you could go out to The Cross Friday night. Nothing special because you can't. Everyone knows we always go together." Jelly seems to be jealous. I like this.
"Oh . Okay" I say looking down at my clay and wondering what the hell I'm going to make.
Sometimes and only sometimes I get caught staring at a girls butt. Megan on this particular day was wearing skintight leggings with absolutely no panties. I couldn't resist going for the voyeur stare.
Megan has a bubble butt and often wears pigtails in her blue hair. I've heard she's an adult baby or one of those girls that likes older men and calls them Daddy but I have no real evidence. She's big in the punk scene and fronts my old band, Bloody Utopia as the singer and lead guitarist. She's very talented and the truth is I'd love to date her but even though we're 'Just Friends' I could never let Jelly know that.
"Ten minutes left!" Mr. Glasgow yells over everyone's chattering voices.
Jelly is almost finished her sculpture. It's the bat mobile from Tim Burton's Batman. Arguably the best batman. Definitely the coolest bat mobile.
I sculpt as fast as I can. I can't afford to fail this assignment as I've handed my last three in late and lost an instant twenty percent of my grade.
I've sculpted a penis but not just any penis. It's my own penis.
Mr Glasgow walks from table to table looking at the sculptures. "Very nice, Jennifer. The bat mobile looks solid and should dry out very nice."
"What on earth have you sculpted, Jeremy? That better not be what I think it is." He says with a bit of a chuckle and all the sincerity he has in his eyes at the same time.
"It's the penis of Michelangelo's David should it be erected, sir." I say as I stare at my marvelous creation. It really is a very lovely penis from the perfect urethra straight down to the well proportioned testicles.
"You're lucky you're clever." Mr. Glasgow says. "Clever will only get you so far, though." He continues as he walks away.
Jelly leans forward and laughs "it's too big to be yours. Whose dick are you sculpting?"
"It will shrink as it dries out. I left room for shrinkage." I say as I stare at my marvelous creation.
I have the penis of a God.
YOU ARE READING
Tapioca PuddingGeneral Fiction
Is he alone or is he the most popular person in town? Jeremy struggles with borderline personality disorder and other mental illnesses as well as self and sexual identity issues in this dramatic tale about change and challenge. Watch his everyday li...