Friday, May 4, 2007

Young Herbert Part 1: "Reckoning" (Essential Interlude)

More has occurred in this Saga but to continue, you will need to grasp my hand and let me lead you on a brief journey into Hebert past...

When I was a young lad, plagued with the prison sentence of Public Schools, I was ordered to enroll in at least 1 year of gym class. I cannot or won’t go into the full details of what it was like to have both a superior mind as well as a generous frame in a public school, but I will say, it came packaged with consequences. Others can, painfully scorn genius by itself. To be endowed with Genius and dashing looks… well, only one of noble blood could withstand the onslaught of teenage-male jealous hatred that taunts this two in one curse.

The onslaught that I was forced to bear in the locker-room was a particularly vicious and splintered cross. The game my tormentors invented in my honor was called “Crotch Whack,” which I would liken unto a kind of testicular gorilla warfare. Yes, many a young acne'd vermin lost giant chunks of hair in their attacks on young gentle Herbert's fruit and vine, but alas, the pain I endured was wretched…

Dante never imagined such a level of hell that was as loathsome. My hand hovers even now as I recall the stinging, throbbing trauma.

After months of enduring torture with no end in sight, I decided that my genius must aid my brawn to win this daily battle and cease this torture. So one Saturday, I walked 4 miles to a sporting store, my first and last visit since, and bought a large Athletic cup. That night, by candle light and accompanied by the tribal music of Zimbabwe on vinyl, I painted a fiery sword upon the cup’s ventilated face. It looked fearful indeed. I then dyed the Jock strap a royal purple and hung it on my grandfather’s Globe to dry for the impending battle the following morning. I read excerpts of Beowulf and Tolkien aloud by roaring fire to strengthen my spirit for the next day’s duel.

The next morning I awoke and prepared myself for battle and was off to the bus.

Immediately, as I strode past snickering students on the bus, I knew they sensed my enlarged “confidence.” I knew at that moment, victory would be mine...

(To be continued...)

3 comments:

Mz Jackson said...

Herbert, might I suggest you revisit the cup idea before you see Esmerelda again? Perhaps it could score some, shall we say, "Brownie points" for lack of a better term?

The Boob Lady said...

I cannot wait to see where this tale goes. I am excited at the thought. :)

Big Orange said...

good sir, thou should not, for thine AND MINE sake relive or chronicle the hells of P.E. class for anyone. The trauma *I'd* be reminded of would undo many, MANY years of Freudian suppression.

Like yon Divinely Breasted Lady, I too wonder where this tale shall take us...