It was like a bolt of lightening.
I was sitting there in Miss Gould’s second grade classroom, trying to devise a new way to torture the smelly, nasty, old bat, when something in my mind clicked together with enough force to literally throw me from my seat and to the floor in surprise. The fact that Stacy V. was wearing a cute and very mini mini-skirt had nothing to do with my revelation, but it may have influenced the direction of my fall.
I wasn’t sure, but I thought she was wearing white panties with little yellow ducky’s.
After apologizing to the class for my clumsiness, I picked myself up from the floor and got back in my seat. I knew almost instinctively that my minor epiphany would lead to all sorts of cool and exciting experiments, but I just didn’t know how yet. I decided to ponder the ramifications of my discovery just as soon as I picked up my pencil. Making sure no one was looking at me, I stealthily dropped my pencil in front of Stacy’s desk and proceeded to pick it up again.
Yep, definitely ducky’s.
Since I sat next to the window, I had a great view of the schools outer courtyard and the street. Being that it was winter outside, the schools large radiators under the windows were on and doing their job of making each and every classroom uncomfortably warm. As I sat there, watching the snow fall gently to the ground and sweating my hairless gonads off in my brown corduroy dungarees (the height of fashion from the discount bins at Woolworth’s), I pondered my newfound bit of knowledge trying to figure out just how I could turn it to my advantage.
“Crayons,” I thought to myself, “are made of wax.”
As I sat there in awe of my own intelligence, I decided to test my newfound discovery’s validity by melting some crayons as soon as I could figure out how to start a fire in the classroom without getting in trouble.
Then I remembered the radiator pipes.
Tentatively, I reached out my hand and touched one of the radiators. Oh yeah, they were hot! I sucked on my slightly burnt fingers and began to devise a plan. All I needed now was to get my hands on some crayons…
“Drawing time, everyone. Go to the back of the room and get your crayons.”
“God.” I thought to myself as I returned to my seat. “You must truly love me.”
Understandably, he had nothing to say to that.
Now, since I thought I was a smart little bastard, I knew I would have to be careful or I’d be in big poopy. I had learned from watching television that if you’re going to commit a crime you should always wear gloves or the cops would find your fingerprints and then find you and send you ‘downtown’. Of course, I had no idea how fingerprints helped the cops find someone or even why going downtown was bad, but it didn’t really matter. For whatever reason, my young mind had latched onto the idea that if I didn’t leave any fingerprints then I wouldn’t get into any trouble.
I know it’s stupid now but it made sense to me at the time, so shut up.
I didn’t dare go back to the closet in the back of the class for my gloves because that was just the type of thing a rookie would do. I was far too clever to make that mistake. Instead, I hit upon another brilliant idea. It popped into my head that Elmer’s Glue, when it dries on your skin, has almost the same consistency and texture as rubber. And it just so happened that I had a bottle of glue in my schoolbag.
It was almost too easy.
Not more than 20 minutes and 17 crayons later, Miss Gould discovered me on the floor in the back of the classroom. My hands and arms were covered with dry, cracking Elmer’s Glue and I was watching a slowly melting Ruby Red Crayola join its already fully melted brothers and sisters on the radiator pipes. She was not pleased.
“GeekMan! Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Just look at those pipes, they’re covered with melted crayons! You’re going to have to clean up that mess before the end of school today and the principal is going to call your mother!”
“But, I didn’t do nuthin’!”
“Mr. GeekMan, you are a liar. I can see you with my own eyes!”
“But you don’t have any proof Miss Gould, so I can’t get in trouble.”
“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”
I smiled smugly and raised my glue covered hands for the whole class to see.
“I’m wearing gloves!”
sometimes, your geekiness is just cute. lol
And to think, you actually survived to adulthood, my mother would’ve killed me, and then made me clean up the mess. You must have a Hobbes around somewhere.
i remember making palm prints with dried glue, but it never occurred to me to use them as “gloves” … too funny
wait, but was miss ducky undies impressed or what?
There was nothing so satisfying as melting crayons on the radiator in 2nd grade – except running the mimeograph machine. The smell still brings happy feelings. Of melting crayons, that is. Imagine, we have friends who may never have smelled a freshly purplized spelling test. Sigh…
If only “Se7en” had been around back then, you’d have known that all you had to do was glue your fingertips. Then again, you’d have had nightmares for months after seeing that as a child.
Maybe if you had worn a paper bag over your head in addtion to the glue gloves, you would have got away with it…!
I did have to clean up the mess, my clever strategy of wearing ‘gloves’ notwithstanding. Stacy V. was so unimpressed with me that I don’t believe she ever even knew my name.
I don’t wear paper, kills too many trees. Plastic, however…
);^)