Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Admiral Brian Obvious, of the S.S. Oblivious

After we fell down the hill together, Brian ended up pulling up a chair to my friend's table in the cafeteria. Very much uninvited.

He even managed to seem completely oblivious to the hostile stares of everyone else around him, and demolished his breakfast. Uncomfortable silence didn't faze him a bit, and when he left he even threw a cheery, "See ya!" over his shoulder.

The next morning he was waiting outside my dorm. When I saw him, I just instinctively cringed, and then flipped him off with both hands.

I heard Mrs. Chang say from behind me, "If you don't have better things to do with your hands, I can find you a mop, Sal," I put my fingers down, at least until she turned her back, and then gave her a double helping, too.

Instead of beating me down with snowballs, he just walked alongside me, to breakfast.

That was how it started. With breakfast.


After that first day, it became routine. Brian was always waiting outside to walk me to breakfast.

At lunch time, he'd find me, and sit with me. Dinner, same.

It even got to where my friends and I would wait on him if he was late. We'd save him a seat at our table, and he became one of us. Little freshman Brian, sitting at the grown folks table.

Now, don't go thinking that he was all sweet and sensitive. He wasn't. He was a turd. An obnoxious, oblivious turd, and his retardery knew no bounds.
But he tried. He honestly tried, so we all kind of took him in, and tried to help him out.

He just kind of grew on me, and I wanted to see him do well. So, I'd just tie on his bib when he got messy, I'd remind him that his first two fingers were not a substitute for a spoon, and that telling a girl she had a camel toe never went anywhere good.

He eventually progressed from these little crayons of social etiquette to pencils, occasionally backsliding like any sinner. He graduated (although very slowly) from a booster seat to an actual chair.

Looking back, those are some of my best memories. Of Brian losing his training wheels.



Travis said...

This is going somewhere.

It's too bad I don't know where, because you won't tell me.

Instead, I get teased.

I'm gonna throw a snowball at you.

Ed Adams said...

Wait, no I'm confused.

Was this in preschool?

Or are you just into really younger men?

Nish said...

I'm going to have to say that sometimes telling a girl she has a camel toe is a public service announcement, or should at least be classified as such.


otherworldlyone said...

I'm going to have to agree with Nish. There should be camel toe referees. With whistles and matching shirts.

Skye Blue said...

@ Nish - LMAO at PSA comment.

my new favourite word is 'retardery'.

fabulous post.

j-face said...

This will end well. I can feel it.

And if I know my Sal... She only likes my snowballs.


Sally-Sal said...

If you can find some snow in Oklahoma, throw it. I accept your challenge, sir.

High school. Brian was raised by Captain Caveman.

I agree about the PSA, but he used to tell teachers, cafeteria workers, etc... And informing the people who served you food of these type of things probably wasn't in his best interest. Probably.

And their theme song is Pussy Control! I like.

Skye Blue:
Sometimes it's the only word that comes close, yo.

You're the only guy who can domestically violence me with snowballs ;)

Soda and Candy said...

Aww. I got nothin' but aww for ya.

Maryx said...

It's like taking a hurt little bird in, who fell out of the nest. Nursing it better. Releasing it. Some just take so much longer than others. Some never leave.

Thanx for sharing

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