“No Sympathy”
“Fusion, Mr. Stiles. Not fission. Not fussing, and certainly not FISHING! Which is obviously what you are doing and tells me you are once again unprepared for class."
“But Cap, I…….”
“Mr Stiles, please sit down. The glow of your intellect is blinding the rest of us.”
Stinky Stiles sat. Red faced, sweat staining his drab khaki collar. He hung his head and stared at his desk until 0955 when class let out.
The bell rang. Cadets filled the halls. But Stinky still sat.
“Cap, someone put super glue on my seat.”
“Congratulations Mr. Stiles. You have finally discovered fusion.”
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The above is my entry in the weekly
Velvet Verbosity 100 word contest. It is fiction loosely based on truth and real life people. We actually called Stinky "Anteater". And contrary to the story he was really a brainiac. But he was a jerk. We punished that poor kid mercilessly. In Chem class, I once dripped acid on his overseas cap while he had it folded in his back pocket. The rules were very specific. When indoors, overseas caps were to be folded neatly in half and placed in right rear pocket. The acid worked it's wonders during the hour class. When Anteater put it on to go outside he did not notice the holes in his hat. He received 10 demerits for breaking the uniform code. I never owned up to it. I guess I should feel guilty now. But did I mention he was a jerk? It could not have happened to a more deserving live by the rules tight ass. I think those were the only demerits Anteater received the entire 4 years he attended Charlotte Hall.
To put it in perspective, while I graduated as a 2nd Lieutenant, I also had the dubious honor of graduating with what was called unlimited demerits. Too many to count. Or they stopped counting once I hit 200 or so. I can't remember. I got caught being stupid quite a bit. The only thing that saved me I guess was I was 4th or 5th in my class, I played sports well, and I marched well. I could fling around that M-1 rifle with the best of them.
I do remember the day before I graduated, the Skin (commandant) told me if I wanted to graduate with my rank, I would have to take some whacks. Whacking a senior was almost unheard of. But since I had become very familiar with his evil paddle my previous 3 years, I figured it would be worth it to not have to explain to friends and family why I was graduating as a buck private. Skin discounted the demerit to whack ratio tremendously. I only received 10. But he lifted me hard each time he laid into me. I deserved every one.
The picture at the top right is of some of my school mates marching to class back in 1969/70. I am not in that picture. But I am in this next one. I'm the bonehead flashing the peace sign on the right. Notice the spit shine on my shoes. Damn, I was a punk. BTW, this is a picture of the varsity soccer team.
Remember the times though. Vietnam was going full bore and I had discovered my affinity for the protest. Earlier that year I was beaten almost senseless by a DC cop during a protest while in full uniform. He thought I was in the Army and showing disrespect to the uniform by being one of the protesters screaming around the Capitol. In actuality I was there with my English teacher as part of a tour of the Library of Congress. Cap gave us a couple of hours free time before we headed back to school 50 miles away. Naturally being curious dumass boys, we gravitated to the protest just to see what was up. It got ugly a few moments after we arrived. That unwarranted beating was a turning point in my life. I attended every protest I could after that. And I protested.
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