That boy with the faded jeans needs some Javex
(... high school yearbook revisited)
By John Stiles
Sulky is a word for a pouting, sixteen-year-old wimp who sits in
his room imagines quibble bibble to say at Inter-School Christian
Fellowship Meetings. He`s a cross little tosser with bandly legs, hides
a dog-eared Bible under his pillow 'mongst eight tracks he`s pinched
from The Box of Delights. To say he is mean sprited, small-eyed
thief is not correct, he`s a scholar of Mad Magazines
and thinks
Desperate Dan is the bees knees. If he ever gets a chance to
chew gum he`ll stick it under a plate. There he`ll let it sit, forever.
If his mother finds it she`ll take the stars off his chores list so
he`ll have to do other things like vaccuum his room and stand in the
shadows in the schoolyard saying things - to himself - like My Mummy
and Your Mummy are friends till your son says something bad and I
call Your Mummy at home
she says
my son would never do that you greasy, good-for-nothing old bat.
Thirteen year-old boys with their hands in the odds and sodds bins
at Frenchies can get worked into a lather trying to find an OP T-shirt
or a pair of Converse High Tops. Look out in the middle of the
pack of crowd pleasers on the dancefloor they`ve been wanting to move,
groove for a long time, not bad looking for nearing
forty years-old,
some of them have flown half way across the world to take back things they said or scribbled in the High School Yearbook.
