The Streisand Effect
James puffed away on his afternoon J, all the while trying to vanquish the Crohn's demon deep inside of him. Chimichanga day was never a good idea for someone in his condition, but the intoxicating allure of Mrs. Doyle's "El Scorcho Sauce" Yet again made him forget about the vile intestinal penance awaiting him in such a way that it almost seemed like witchcraft. Under its spell, James was like an enterologically-challenged lemming all too eager to leap headlong into the fiery depths of the Habanero Sea. Luckily, a couple puffs of the "old faithful" he got from Dez out the back of his creepy van helped his peristalsis quite nicely. It was like a laxative that also made you want to eat gummy bears post-steamer. As he groaned out the discord of his innards, he perused the "Stall Tribune" for the latest gossip. "Diane Murphy likes nuts, call (random phone number). James laughed. That was in fact Diane's actual phone number, but she was allergic to nuts. Everybody knows that. How dumb. Next.
There was a newly drafted naked woman on the right wall above the paper dispenser. James thought of how amusing it must be that the artist of this particular piece was more than likely skipping his anatomy class to scrawl it, or at least that's what his composition would allude to. Asymmetrical nipples with extravagantly pronounced areolas? Seriously, dude. Must've been JJ. Up until recently he thought girls got pregnant from playing fingerbum. Yikes!
"OOooooh Myomy!!......here comes the boom....Ehhhhhhhh!!!" James threw the roach into the pot below, bit his hand and let it rip. I won't go into detail, but I'll just say the demon was violently exorcised with extreme prejudice and maximum comfort. He sighed in relief, finished his business, washed his hands and left the boys room with Mr. McGillicutty's abnormally huge painted rock hall pass in hand.
The hallway was a ghost town. He imagined tumbleweeds of homework paper rolling across as he made his way back to class. After a brief stop at the fountain to sate the oncoming cottonmouth, he opened the classroom door, but something was off. Everyone was underneath their desks huddled in terror. Mr. M was against the windows in the corner of the room with his hands behind his head like he was chillaxing while kids cowered. Strange shit for sure. Under the closest desk was Albert Cummings, whimpering out what sounded like a poorly-verbalized warning as he looked at James from the floor with "SANTA AINT REAL!!" eyes gleaming in the fluorescence illuminating his tears from above. James couldn't make out what he was saying; Mostly because of his speech impediment. "D-d-d-duuude...What?" James said with a partial smile. This was becoming all too much for him as Old Faithful began tugging on his nugget at this point.
All of a sudden, James looked to his right to see Craig Whitherspoon brandishing a very-real AK47 that was pointed right at him."Uhhhh...C-Dubs? What's up, man?" "SH-SH-SHUT UP, JAMIE!! CLOSE THE DOOR!!" Craig shouted as his shaky hands cradled the death machine. James complied and nudged the door shut with his foot as his arms went skyward. Total buzzkill! "C...It's me, bro. What's the deal?"
To shed light on the present exchange, James and Craig were lab partners in science class a few years back. They didn't choose each other, but more were paired out of the fact that they were the only kids left. This was of no consequence because they got along famously and even got a B+ on their assignments.
Skip to now.
"Listen...Craiggery. If someone was picking on you, we can beat their asses together. You and me, man!" Craig was less than enticed by James' offer. "YOU THINK I'M DOING THIS CUZ OF SOME BULLY?! YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT!! NOBODY BULLIES ME!!....I'M WAAAAAAY TOO BORING FOR ANYBODY TO PAY ATTENTION TO. BUT NOW THEY'LL NOTICE. NOW THEY'LL SEE. NOW THEY'LL WISHED THEY'D SWIRLEYED ME!! FUCKIN MOUTHBREATHERS!! WHY NOT MEEE!!"
Craig wasn't wrong. He was a boring-ass kid. Though, it wasn't entirely his fault. He had interests like painting, models, and coins while his peers were all into things like posting pictures of themselves as cat-people on Instachat and stupid videos of people playing XBOX that they watched incessantly for hours on end in lieu of actual gaming. The deck was clearly stacked against him. He had no common ground to bond. This, coupled with his actually still-married parents made him a pariah among his classmates. Bullies didn't even find him interesting enough to pick on. This all created a shitstorm of irrelevance inside of him that was just about to cloudburst with muzzle flash lightning strikes.
James looked upon him shocked as hell, and began to laugh. "Heheh, ARE YOU KIDDING OR WHAT?!? YOU'RE "C-DUBS THE MIGHTY BEEF!" Remember,...Dude, remember when you stuck your ass up on the lab counter and blew a wicked fireball into the bunson burner? The stain's still on the ceiling, man! I bet your pubes aint even grown back." Craig's stern demeanor cracked a smirk with a split-giggle. "Th-they haven't actually.""Yeah, man! Your buttcheeks flapped through your jeans and everything! That was NOT BORING, bro. That was legendary." Through the tension, you could hear the cowering children throughout the class snicker to themselves as they fondly recalled that day. James continued,
"Hey, and what gives, C? I thought we were tight. I invited you to three of my birthday parties, two of them were pool parties and you missed out, man. Craig, Angie lost her top last year. That was amaaaazing! And you know what I was thinking that exact moment, no bullshit? I was wishing you were there to witness God's work in all its glory. Where were you? Off bein sad somewhere? FOR WHAT, DUDE? YOU RULE!!"
Craig lowered his rifle and looked down in regret. "I'm sorry, Jamie...I-I-I wanted to come...especially after hearing that happened, but I didn't think that..." "Craig" James interjected, "STOP, ....you thought? Why were you thinking, man? We're kids. We don't have to think yet. We're supposed to have fun and stuff while we can. We'll have plenty of time to think when we're all old and the weight of the world crushes our dreams to mush and taxes and voting and junk. For now, we have a free pass to not give a shit. We just get to be us. And I, for one, don't think you're boring. Yeah, you do different things, but that's what makes you...you, man. Screw people if they don't like it. Those people are sheep anyway." James looked back towards the class. "No offense, guys, but you kinda are." Turning his attention back to Craig, James concluded. "Yeah, boring? So what. I love you dude. So much that I'll sing your favorite song, even if you're too embarrassed....Remember?"
"No, J-Jamie. I..."
"Happy days are here againnn...The skies above are clear againnnnn. C'mon Craig"
The melody began to overtake Craig. That was indeed his jam. So they both break out into a rather gripping harmony in front of a terrified and now confused 6th period Algebra class.
"SOOOO LET'S SING A SONG OF CHEER AGAIN.
HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAI...."
That's when James hurled Mr. McGillicutty's abnormally huge painted rock hall pass, nailing Craig right between the eyes and knockin' him the F out. Mr. M quickly ran over and disarmed the incapacitated would-be assailant. Crisis averted. The Police arrived at the scene shortly thereafter. Considering he was kind of a hero and all, they didn't ask (though they really wanted to) why James smelled like straight-up chronic. Instead they just asked him how he was able to subdue the gunman. James just smiled and said, "All it took was a little love, kindness, and Streisand. Oh and a rock, too. Mostly the rock."
The AK47 wasn't loaded, which played a bit in Craig's favor when they passed down judgement. He had to go to a special school for troubled boring kids or something. There, he could hopefully get some much needed help in coping with his loving, still married parents. James wrote him all the time, even invited him to his next pool party. Craig attended, but unfortunately, Angie did not lose her top. Which goes to show: some things in life, you just gotta be there for. Don't miss out.