Monday, June 8, 2009


Just 19 miles and 20 years east of Downtown L.A. there was a little burgh called, West Covina.

It might still be there.


I swear.

I left. Of my own free will. My own.

If you can imagine Satans Sock Hop, you can imagine lunch time at Edgewood High School. It's just six degrees of separation away from your 19th nervous breakdown.

If you're not smart. Or ruthless.

Or Mormon. What a happy people. Happy. They are.

Why are they so damn happy? Is it the underwear?


I digress.

Like a pyrotechnic Lucille Ball during the "Lucy" show period ,yet, somehow, wrapped in the sylphlike body of a future homosexual 16 year old boy, Craig Steven Curtis was Edgewoods' own "Little Miss Dynamite". Everything seemed to blow up in his wake like one of those depth charges in an old Farley Granger Navy movie. You never quite saw the water part, but, only seconds later, KA BOOOM!

Quelle strange.

That's our First Lady used to do porn (French)for, "That who smells of sulfer". Demon Seed. Rosemary's Baby. Child of the Damned. One Bad Mamma Jamma.

Do I have to spell it out?

"Listen Connie, all you have to do is pull lookout duty, I'll do the rest!", Craig grabbed Connies frightened, yet, excited forearm. "By the time Kinzler is back, the deed will be done."

Connie nervously smiled. She wasn't a bad girl. We didn't have those. Well, later we'll get to Maully. "I think it's awful!", Connie said as she wolfed down a salad of tasteless lettuce with wet dressing. "What time?"

"11:48 on the dot", said Edgewood's own Boris Badenov.

"What if Mr. Kinzler comes?", Connie was almost giddy with the titillation of it all.

"Flash your boobies! Oh, wait, that won't work on him. Hmm, Get your braces stuck in his cardigan and play for time!" Never one at a loss for a back up plan that Craig.

"WHAT?" Connie was beginning to think she had gotten herself in a little too deep. After all, was it really worth getting into trouble over THIS?

"Listen Cerny", The Evil Debutante gritted through his teeth, "either you help us with this, or, or, I'll tell everyone you think Danny Ramos is hot!"


"Hey! There goes Kinzler. Now stay here while I do it and DON"T let anybody in. As soon as you hear the back door of the choir room close, you scram!" The plot had been set in motion by He Who Leaves No Reflection.

30 minutes later a lovely, somehow getting plumper by the day, lovely Blonde swept in to the choir room with her other "Soph Sounds" (a vocal choir group of the best girl singers at Edgewood. Pretty and Blonde, they were like a Mormon Milk Calendar for hot boys on missions in Black neighborhoods in Chicago.).

Alison (head Soph) let out an audible perfect C gasp. Jamie shockingly exclaimed, "Oh My G.." she slapped her hand over her mouth before she dared say the Lords name in vain.

Laughter began to erupt. The lunchtime crowd was back for choir.

The blonde pudge ran from the room in tears! The Sophs ran after her but not before Alison turned, Dorothy Hamill flip spinning, and glared at the B.P.A.U (the Bed Pigs of America United). "You boys, are just awful!" the Singing Nun screamed.

We in the B.P.A.U. fell into fits of laughter.

There on the black board was the ultimate insult to a teenage girl having a problem with after school sessions at Ed Taco,"Katie Kow-A-Moo-Ah". A simple Italian family named had been turned in to an insult of epic proportions.

"Dude, that's not funny!", Mike McElroy grabbed my Hang Ten shirt by the collar. "Why did you do that!?" He released me and I grabbed my Jheri Curl juice and proceeded to give myself a pick me upper spray. "I didn't do it! I thought you did. Jim, did you? Jimmy? YOU, new strange kid, aww, never mind."

I got a flash!

"Whoever did that is in serious trouble!" Kinzler was PISSED. His cardigan was straining to the limits of the Dacron holding back his now enraged, jiggling stomach. "Derek! In my office! Mr. Washington! Now!"

Right before the door slammed, I realized Beelzobob was cackling silently as he picked up his books demurely and ran out like the Clam Digger wearing Minx that he was.

And why does Connie Cerny look like she needs electro shock..?



"Who did this?" Kinzlers vein was doing that thing over his eye that it did whenever he got excited. Or excited. Wink. Wink. " I know you know."

"You know, not everything that goes on around here involves me you know." SO not true, but, this one time, I REALLY wasn't involved.

BUT. I knew who was.

The grilling and threats went on for hours. Everything in a school teachers' drawer of post medieval torture kit was used.

I knew. But I don't tell. So, don't ask.

"What did Dicky K have to say to you," Cruella stared me in the eyes. "Hmph, said I had to know who was in on it. Told him I didn't. I held. I knew it was you." I looked back at him with a smile in my eyes. I mean, I had to admire this one, usually I was in on them. How come I didn't get included on this mission I wondered. Who Helped? As I was perplexing a little rat started to creep away.

"Stop right there Connie Cerny!", I screeched. "That wasn't your handwriting, OH! You pulled lookout! Ha. You little felon!" Cerny began a feeble protest, "I Didn.." "Save it Connie, you've got fun and guilt written all over your braces! Why didn't I get in on this?" I was actually a little put out. It was me after all who timed the great 4th of July multi front assault on Sandy Lee's house. I stole the sugar the night someones gas tank seized their engine. I rode in the car trunk to get in the Edgewood Drive-in when we spied on Alison making out with some Mormon Lothario, I deserved to be there.

It was always fun to bug the Soph Sounds. They never looked better than when their faces were beet red. It showed off the Periwnkle Blue in those gawd awful empire waist salutes to pregnant prom night.

Connie began to tear up. "She's gonna pee on her self!" Craig got close to her, "listen Cerny, don't blow this, you know the rule. STICK TO THE STORY. NO MATTER WHAT!"

"Miss Cerny." Kinzler had new prey. "Come here for a second please." Kinzler looked like a benevolent Goebbels awaiting the noon train.

"She's gonna break", I told He who has green blood.


"Listen Connie, Derek already told me that you did this. He felt bad for you because I said I was going to have you suspended because I already knew. He asked if I would let it go if he told me the truth." Goebbels had her right where he wanted her. "I better call your mother, I can't believe you would do something like this. It's so sad...."

"NO! It was all Craigs idea! I just watched the door! I'm so sorry! PLEASE MR. KINZLER, don't call my mom!" Connie folded like a white lady waiting on AAA after 2am on the corner of Martin Luther King and Ghetto.

"CURTIS!" Kinzly was NOT happy. For two solid hours, even though the gig was up, Lucretia kept up the front. In the face of every threat and every coercion, Craig stood firm. "I was at Ed Taco".

Again. And again.

As Connie lay splayed across a table moaning about the harsh treatment she had been afforded, out from Kinzlers office wafted Satan's Little Helper.

"And?", I inquired.

"Please! As if that one could crack me. Cerny, you're on your own, he's calling your mom". Craig pulled out a tube of bubblegum flavored lip gloss and turned around and walked away to the sounds of Baby Seals being clubbed to death. I followed him , Connie WAS being REALLY emotional.

"He's not calling her Mom. He thought the whole thing was hilarious. He said Connie cracked the moment she walked in and started crying." Soon to be a Blonde Barbara Stanwyck stand in turned to me and said, "It's pretty simple. No matter what they do to you, STICK TO THE STORY UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME."

There's a moral to this story.

Not the one you think.

I bet that Al Queda has the same basic principle. "No matter what they do to you, STICK TO THE STORY UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME." That's why Cheney et al had to resort to waterboarding and God only knows what else to get info out of the "suspected" terrorists.

Personally, I think Al Queda are closer to Connie Cerny than the two can't wait to blow this town Fag teens in our little fable. I think the pussys of Al Queda probably squeal like Pigs on a line of really good meth.

My point?

Lt. Dan Choi was recently discharged from the Armed Forces because he's Gay. So what you say?

Well, Dan Choi speaks fluent Arabic.

Al Queda speaks Arabic.

See where I'm going here?

Two things:

1/ A Homo is an interrogators worst nightmare. We don't give. Whatever you've got, we've had worse done. Or done worse.

2/ You can torture an Al Queda "suspected" terrorist all you want...but, you can't make him speak English.

Don't you think it's time to end "Don't Ask Don't Tell"?


Craig Curtis said...

Derek! While I appreciate the commentary, and LOVED the Cruella references (and the tribute to my fashion savvy), I have to tell you that I learned the craft from one La Dragonessa (Mom) who also went to Edgewood before she got knocked up with moiself. Now, mind you, my step-pappy and uncle went to Edgewood for a brief time (they lied about their address because they didn't want to go to Basset, got caught and had to leave), Brother Paul got expelled and went to Covina, and brother Grant, unable to cope with the loooooong history of Curti going to, and leaving behind a legacy at Edgewood, soon followed Paul to Covina. I most certainly do not remember what evil thing I did (OK, I accept full responsibility for Alison Jablonski's late term miscarriage, and all the fun about renaming the Drama Room ALL MY MISCARRIED CHILDREN) so kindly remind me what the hell that little plot was all about.

La De Ville said...

Cathy Calamia, my friend, is probably STILL in treatment after 4 years with you my little Executioner!