May 19, 2004
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Sometimes it only takes a few actions to totally screw everything up. Sometimes it only takes one.
There was this kid in my fourth grade class named Michael Vepustek. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Nose so long you'd think he was Ponnochio. It was the first day of school and we had to sit in a circle and tell what we wanted to be when we grew up. The classic fourth grade American Girl Magazine model type girls squeezed out a dozen dimple oozing smiles. "A VET!" they squealed. 'PRETHIDENT!' said a lisping Daniel. "A FIREMAN!" said Kelsey, the notorious Tomboy. "an author" I said, uncapitalized. And then it came to Michael.
"A POKEMON MASTER!"
The room fell silent. Everyone stared at the Pikachoo obsessed moron. He smiled back, completely oblivious to the fact that his chances of making friends that year were now slim to none. I wanted to go up to him and tell him that he was all wrong. You're making the biggest mistake of your elementary school life, i wanted to say. I stared at him, telepathically gluing my eyes to his head, trying to transport my message to his brain telling him to change his answer. But he didn't. And he has been known as the Pokemon Master for the past four years.
But that was only one of the ways that Michael Vepustek commmited social suicide.
The second time came around during one math class in the second marking period of fourth grade. Mrs. Hayman was teaching us decimals. "Now does anyone know what 2 and 1/4 is as a decimal?" she asked the class. Pokemon Master raised his hand. OOH OOOH..he knew the answer. More oohs. Mrs. Hayman reluctanly called on him.
"It's two." He paused. He took his index finger and shoved it straight up his nose, as if there was some torturous itch invading his brain. "Two point two five." He yanked the finger out of his nostril and examined the goodies. He took his other hand and rolled the goodies into a tiny little ball. Was it only the ball that was possessed? Was it the ball that made him do it? Or was it just him? We may never know. All we know is that Michael Vepustek flicked that boogerball. And it landed in my hair.
And no one talked to him after that. No one talked to me that day either. Michael Vepustek's precious snot was somewhere out there, inhabiting my scalp. All anyone could do was donate a weak, sympathetic smile to my charity. An 'i know how it is' smile. And the sad part is, about one month later, some of those people did. One month later, i was not the only victim to Micahel Vepustek's Snot of Wonder. With a pick and a flick, he managed to kill two birds with one booger per DAY. No one was safe. You could run, you could wear a shower cap, but you could never escape from the torpedo boogers of the Pokemon Master.
Okay, so why am i bringing this story up? Because all it really takes is a few mistakes. After just a few mess-ups, you can wave adios to your chances of making it through school. Michael Vepustek liked Pokemon. Loved them. And he is entitled to his own opinions. Just because he liked some fluffy yellow marshmallow named Pikatchu doesn't mean we had to shun him. We are a swarming group of identical blood-sucking robots.
So maybe the booger thing went a little far. But the whole shunning Mike thing was really because of the Pokemon. The booger thing was just an add on. At the time i thought it was hilarious, squeezing the identity out of people. Maybe because back then i didn't exactly word it that way. Back then it was 'being cool'. In order to fit in to elementary school life and beyond, everyone had to pressure everyone to take off those Teletubie patched overalls and replace them with skin tight low riders. Goodbye pigtails, hello flat iron. We may not all look exactly alike, dress exactly the same, but we are all clones. Individual clones.
Spice Girls are the new Power Rangers Backstreet Boys are the New Spice Girls Nsync are the new Backstreet Boys. New New New. We are living in the new. Pokemon? So two minutes ago. If you are not in the New, you are not in. You have to chill with Michael Vepustek and his Boogers of Wonder. But maybe that's better than being part of conformity.
But can we ever escape conformity? I've tried but failed.
Bedtime, d
Comments (4)
good old mikey....yep 4 years later..still pickin and flickin...and of course..playing pokemon cards at lunch. with himself
weird elemantry school... we never had conformaty like you
yea, i still have 2 live w/ mike, hes even worse now. he still plays smokeymon, or w/e, but at least now he has the couritisy 2 pick and flick in the lunch room, where it can land in ne, unsuspecting victoms food. never happened 2 me b4, i space myself as far from him as possible. now he litterally only has 1 friend, which is sad, but its 4 a good reason. he loves our german teacher named herr bray, altho herr bray often tells him 2 go away or shut up. but if u remember a girl named erica zingler, well, her rents and mikes rents kno each other, and she said that she overherd mikes dad talkin, and he said that sometimes, instead of takin a shower, mike just wets his hair and fakes 1
ur anti-hippie friend
andrew
Hello. That was rad.
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