JUNIOR HIGH
After Stanley's brutal crash course in love, he continued through his elementary career known as “Worm Boy”. To most young male chaps, being associated with worms was not the end of the world. But Stanley's brand of worms included side effects like severe hair loss, skin discoloration, abdominal discomfort, plus the possibility of summer school creating a separation that no one ventured to end.
On the final day of school in his 6th grade year, Stanley found himself in deep thought. Due to a recent outbreak of pink eye, his teacher, Ms. Barnecker, had no choice but to put Stanley in isolation.
~Damn, first worms now pink eye~
He relished in the fact that next year things would change for the better. Stanley would be a man then. Seventh grade would not only make him older and wiser but he would be on new ground. A new playing field of uncharted territory. A new school with brand new students, potential friends even, those who knew nothing of “Worm Boy”.
~Yes, things were looking up~
Stanley spent every waking moment of his summer break in preparation for his impending Junior High arrival. The entire month of June was dedicated to physical fitness. Stanley spent countless hours in his backyard lifting weights and doing laps in his pool. Because 7th grade brought about P.E. versus plain ole gym class. By Independence Day, Stanley had the stamina and aquatic skills of a tropical blowfish. During the holiday weekend, Stanley honed in his conversational skills by chatting it up with male teenage family members at his annual family barbecue.
~Because you know men converse, while the women cook, and the children play~
Stanley even took it a step further by joining in a light-hearted game of basketball – skins and shirts. Stanley could not understand why he got so many unusual glances as he ripped off his t-shirt, dousing himself with ice water.
Stanley used the remainder of the month to focus and study the opposite sex. He barricaded himself in his bedroom ogling every teen-girl magazine, completing all the Cosmo quizzes past and present, and watching countless hours of soaps both english and spanish. By the time August rolled around like a breeze, Stanley was a seasoned expert on the types of drama associated with femme fatales.
The school year was approaching and Stanley eagerly anticipated its arrival like a child on Christmas Eve. Instead of his mother taking him clothes shopping, Stanley requested his dad journey out into the wild with him. After hours of fighting through clothes racks, arguing with shoe salesmen, and lugging around ten-ton bags in the mall, Stanley's dad decided to end the day with a tray of hot wings at the local sports bar and grill.
“So son do you want your usual?”
“No dad. I am a man now. What you are having will be fine,” Stanley stated watching a sporting event on a nearby television.
“Okay son. You know I usually get hot wings and a beer.”
“I know. Make it a double. Remember I am a man now.”
“Man? How about you pay for your meal if you are such a man,” Stanley's dad mumbled.
“Sir?” Stanley asked not quite hearing his dad's previous statement.
“Nevermind. Two orders of hot wings, one large fry for us to share, a light draft beer, and one root beer for you.”
Stanley nodded his head in approval.
After 15 minutes or so elapsed, the waitress arrived with their food. Stanley's mouth watered, a slight tingling sensation felt in his throat as the spices wafted up his nostrils.
“Okay son. Dig in.”
Stanley picked up the largest wing dripping with crimson, orange juices. Skirting his tongue across his lips, he readied himself. Stanley ripped the meat from the bone, sucking every morsel of sauce into his mouth. The big clump of meat disintegrated with every grind of his jaw. Stanley closed his eyes savoring the experience and knowledge that he was having his first taste of an exotic cuisine. He started to feel empowered with each bite when suddenly his cheeks became inflamed. His eyes watered as he swallowed trying to suck in air at the same time.
“Are you okay son?” Stanley's dad began to chuckle.
“I'm fine dad. Just need a sip of my drink,” Stanley cleared his throat, crooking out a grin.
He grabbed his root beer, gulping down a huge swig of the carbonated beverage. Stanley felt a tiny eruption occur in his gut, then all hell broke loose.
“Aaaah!” he screamed. “I'm on fire! Help! Help! Call the firemen! Call the cops! Call an ambulance! Call my mom! I'm dying!”
Stanley's dad was doubled over laughing hysterically. He motioned for the waitress to come over. “Could you please bring us some milk. Thank you,” he said through bellows of laughter.
“Aah! Aah! These people should be shut down! They are serving food that is lethal! Dangerous for human consumption!”
“Oh son,” his dad said still insanely laughing, “they will need the ambulance for me if I don't stop cracking up.”
“I'm glad you are busting a gut while my face is melting off.”
The waitress arrived with the milk which Stanley chugged down without a breath. Sucking in more air, “Oh that's better.”
“Aaah. Oh boy. That was rich. You okay now son?” His dad asked fanning the tears from his eyes.
“Well outside of being kissed by the devil himself, I will be better.”
“Okay. Okay. Finish up your fries. And it's safe to say I will order you a burger and I will finish off your wings.”
After their meal, Stanley's dad tipped the waitress heavily for any inconveniences caused. As Stanley slumped to the car, he noticed the sign attached to the establishment.
Big Tony's Sports Bar and Grill
Home of the Volcano Wings – So Hot You Will Call The Cops
Stanley sighed deeply, “Now they tell me.”
He relaxed the remainder of the summer days away. Bright and early the first day of school, Stanley rose two hours before the morning sun batted a lash. He brushed and flossed at least three times being careful to gargle with mouthwash double the allotted amount of time rendering his mouth numb. He inspected his face for any follicular growth – there was none – and he dressed in his brand new jeans, shirt, and top of the line sneakers. He made sure his bookbag was stocked with all his school supplies.
He raced downstairs popping up on his mom finishing breakfast preparations for him and his baby sis, Cassidy. “Good morning mom,” Stanley said taking his seat at the table.
“Morning son. I have something for you,” his mother said setting down a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Your father gave me this lunch card before he left for work. Here you go,” she said handing Stanley the plastic card.
Stanley's eyes grew five times bigger than his face. “Oh wow. A lunch card? No more sack lunches?”
“Now wait a minute young man,” his mom said as she glared at him with the 'I-know-you-not-about-to-fix-your-mouth-to-talk-about-my-lunches' eyes.
“I'm sorry mom. Your lunches are great. It's just that no one brings lunches anymore when you enter 7th grade,” Stanley boasted as if 7th grade was equivalent to entering Harvard Law.
“Okay baby. Eat up so I can drop you and Cassidy off.”
When Stanley's mom pulled in front of his school, Stanley gleamed in excitement grinning from ear to ear. He grabbed his bag, kissing his mom good bye cringing at the fact that he just kissed his mom in front of the red bricked palace. Stanley jetted through the double doors stopping to take in the amazement of his scenery. There was a hub bub of activity buzzing around the hallways and it was incredible. Complete strangers were smiling and nodding in approval of his outfit and teachers were saying greetings to him as he approached his assigned locker. After gathering his things for first period, Stanley knew this day would be the beginning of his rejuvenation. Before he advanced to his first class, Stanley spied a cute little cinnamon kissed girl checking him out.
~Things are truly looking up~
Seeing as Stanley was a take-charge kind of man, he decided to act on her attention. He flexed his way to her locker. “Hey beautiful. My name is Stanley,” he said with the confidence of an action movie star.
The girl stared at him in a way that could shake a leaf from a tree. Then she punched Stanley clean in the chest.
“What in the cheese and crackers did you do that for?” Stanley asked clenching at his stinging chest.
“Get the hell away from me Worm Boy before I mace your ass.”
~Great. Only two whole years to go~
On the final day of school in his 6th grade year, Stanley found himself in deep thought. Due to a recent outbreak of pink eye, his teacher, Ms. Barnecker, had no choice but to put Stanley in isolation.
~Damn, first worms now pink eye~
He relished in the fact that next year things would change for the better. Stanley would be a man then. Seventh grade would not only make him older and wiser but he would be on new ground. A new playing field of uncharted territory. A new school with brand new students, potential friends even, those who knew nothing of “Worm Boy”.
~Yes, things were looking up~
Stanley spent every waking moment of his summer break in preparation for his impending Junior High arrival. The entire month of June was dedicated to physical fitness. Stanley spent countless hours in his backyard lifting weights and doing laps in his pool. Because 7th grade brought about P.E. versus plain ole gym class. By Independence Day, Stanley had the stamina and aquatic skills of a tropical blowfish. During the holiday weekend, Stanley honed in his conversational skills by chatting it up with male teenage family members at his annual family barbecue.
~Because you know men converse, while the women cook, and the children play~
Stanley even took it a step further by joining in a light-hearted game of basketball – skins and shirts. Stanley could not understand why he got so many unusual glances as he ripped off his t-shirt, dousing himself with ice water.
Stanley used the remainder of the month to focus and study the opposite sex. He barricaded himself in his bedroom ogling every teen-girl magazine, completing all the Cosmo quizzes past and present, and watching countless hours of soaps both english and spanish. By the time August rolled around like a breeze, Stanley was a seasoned expert on the types of drama associated with femme fatales.
The school year was approaching and Stanley eagerly anticipated its arrival like a child on Christmas Eve. Instead of his mother taking him clothes shopping, Stanley requested his dad journey out into the wild with him. After hours of fighting through clothes racks, arguing with shoe salesmen, and lugging around ten-ton bags in the mall, Stanley's dad decided to end the day with a tray of hot wings at the local sports bar and grill.
“So son do you want your usual?”
“No dad. I am a man now. What you are having will be fine,” Stanley stated watching a sporting event on a nearby television.
“Okay son. You know I usually get hot wings and a beer.”
“I know. Make it a double. Remember I am a man now.”
“Man? How about you pay for your meal if you are such a man,” Stanley's dad mumbled.
“Sir?” Stanley asked not quite hearing his dad's previous statement.
“Nevermind. Two orders of hot wings, one large fry for us to share, a light draft beer, and one root beer for you.”
Stanley nodded his head in approval.
After 15 minutes or so elapsed, the waitress arrived with their food. Stanley's mouth watered, a slight tingling sensation felt in his throat as the spices wafted up his nostrils.
“Okay son. Dig in.”
Stanley picked up the largest wing dripping with crimson, orange juices. Skirting his tongue across his lips, he readied himself. Stanley ripped the meat from the bone, sucking every morsel of sauce into his mouth. The big clump of meat disintegrated with every grind of his jaw. Stanley closed his eyes savoring the experience and knowledge that he was having his first taste of an exotic cuisine. He started to feel empowered with each bite when suddenly his cheeks became inflamed. His eyes watered as he swallowed trying to suck in air at the same time.
“Are you okay son?” Stanley's dad began to chuckle.
“I'm fine dad. Just need a sip of my drink,” Stanley cleared his throat, crooking out a grin.
He grabbed his root beer, gulping down a huge swig of the carbonated beverage. Stanley felt a tiny eruption occur in his gut, then all hell broke loose.
“Aaaah!” he screamed. “I'm on fire! Help! Help! Call the firemen! Call the cops! Call an ambulance! Call my mom! I'm dying!”
Stanley's dad was doubled over laughing hysterically. He motioned for the waitress to come over. “Could you please bring us some milk. Thank you,” he said through bellows of laughter.
“Aah! Aah! These people should be shut down! They are serving food that is lethal! Dangerous for human consumption!”
“Oh son,” his dad said still insanely laughing, “they will need the ambulance for me if I don't stop cracking up.”
“I'm glad you are busting a gut while my face is melting off.”
The waitress arrived with the milk which Stanley chugged down without a breath. Sucking in more air, “Oh that's better.”
“Aaah. Oh boy. That was rich. You okay now son?” His dad asked fanning the tears from his eyes.
“Well outside of being kissed by the devil himself, I will be better.”
“Okay. Okay. Finish up your fries. And it's safe to say I will order you a burger and I will finish off your wings.”
After their meal, Stanley's dad tipped the waitress heavily for any inconveniences caused. As Stanley slumped to the car, he noticed the sign attached to the establishment.
Big Tony's Sports Bar and Grill
Home of the Volcano Wings – So Hot You Will Call The Cops
Stanley sighed deeply, “Now they tell me.”
He relaxed the remainder of the summer days away. Bright and early the first day of school, Stanley rose two hours before the morning sun batted a lash. He brushed and flossed at least three times being careful to gargle with mouthwash double the allotted amount of time rendering his mouth numb. He inspected his face for any follicular growth – there was none – and he dressed in his brand new jeans, shirt, and top of the line sneakers. He made sure his bookbag was stocked with all his school supplies.
He raced downstairs popping up on his mom finishing breakfast preparations for him and his baby sis, Cassidy. “Good morning mom,” Stanley said taking his seat at the table.
“Morning son. I have something for you,” his mother said setting down a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Your father gave me this lunch card before he left for work. Here you go,” she said handing Stanley the plastic card.
Stanley's eyes grew five times bigger than his face. “Oh wow. A lunch card? No more sack lunches?”
“Now wait a minute young man,” his mom said as she glared at him with the 'I-know-you-not-about-to-fix-your-mouth-to-talk-about-my-lunches' eyes.
“I'm sorry mom. Your lunches are great. It's just that no one brings lunches anymore when you enter 7th grade,” Stanley boasted as if 7th grade was equivalent to entering Harvard Law.
“Okay baby. Eat up so I can drop you and Cassidy off.”
When Stanley's mom pulled in front of his school, Stanley gleamed in excitement grinning from ear to ear. He grabbed his bag, kissing his mom good bye cringing at the fact that he just kissed his mom in front of the red bricked palace. Stanley jetted through the double doors stopping to take in the amazement of his scenery. There was a hub bub of activity buzzing around the hallways and it was incredible. Complete strangers were smiling and nodding in approval of his outfit and teachers were saying greetings to him as he approached his assigned locker. After gathering his things for first period, Stanley knew this day would be the beginning of his rejuvenation. Before he advanced to his first class, Stanley spied a cute little cinnamon kissed girl checking him out.
~Things are truly looking up~
Seeing as Stanley was a take-charge kind of man, he decided to act on her attention. He flexed his way to her locker. “Hey beautiful. My name is Stanley,” he said with the confidence of an action movie star.
The girl stared at him in a way that could shake a leaf from a tree. Then she punched Stanley clean in the chest.
“What in the cheese and crackers did you do that for?” Stanley asked clenching at his stinging chest.
“Get the hell away from me Worm Boy before I mace your ass.”
~Great. Only two whole years to go~