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Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

Healing



© 2005 Todd Wiese



��What, this? That’s nothing. It’s no big deal. I’ve got a lot more. I know it looks bad, but it’ll heal eventually. I’m used to it. I’ve got lots of ‘em, see? Each one bluer than the next. This big black one—yeah, it looks like Texas, doesn’t it?—I got it from that big brawl broke out last week in the cafeteria. Yeah, you remember. A lot less students were hurt than what the papers said. You know that, right? You can never believe the media.

��People make a big deal out of this place, but what people have to realize is that these kids just need to be put in their spot. They just need a little discipline. Take Clark, the one that started the whole row. He’s a big guy. He comes from one of those so-called at-risk families. Well, how many of ‘em don’t, really? But now Clark, he’s big, like a truck! And he knows he can’t control himself. Once he’s riled up, his brakes don’t work no more. He needs even larger folk like you and me to take care of ‘em.

��When he picked up that plastic tray an’ whipped it at little Dave Thomson’s melon, I was behind him in two milliseconds with my arm ‘round his neck like a rusty bear trap. He wasn’t goin’ nowhere. He knew I had him. So what does he do? He bites me! Drew blood, too—punk bastard. Look, you can see teeth marks. I held on, though. That’s my first bit of advice: hold on.

��That’s not the worst of ‘em though. On my chest and back I got a whole mountain range of welts from when I got attacked a month ago. It was after the last bell and I was trying to get out of here on time—which never works. And I was in the parking lot trying to get some of these punks into their cars and on their merry way so their drunk mommies and dads could handle ‘em for a while; and they started chucking stones at me when I told ‘em if they didn’t move it and go on home I would ticket ‘em and, worse yet, get ‘em suspended for a week. There’s no discipline at home, so it’s up to us to give it to ‘em. I gave as good as they did though. My stick laid into their legs at just the correct angle. Most of those hoodlums got away, but a few were sorry they tried my patience that day. Some of these kids just need it good and hard before they’re satisfied. You’ll see, after you’ve been here for a while.

��This bluish-green one here? Yeah, that is a strange one, isn’t it? You’re right it does look like a volcano crater or something. Rich Lewis stabbed me with a pencil. Plunged right in there and broke off. I bled like a stuck pig. Yeah, that Richie! It surprised me too! Oh sure, he seems like a good kid. Never had any trouble him before that. We were just having a chat while he was waiting in the counseling center for Dr. Lowe. You met him yet? What a pussy. He’s got as much backbone as a wet noodle.

��Anyway, Richy’s sitting there and I ask him what’s wrong with him and he says he just wants to talk to Dr. Lowe. I told him if he just stayed away from them funny cigarettes he wouldn’t need to see no pussy-ass counselor. Well, then, of course, he denies he ever touched any cigarettes. But, I know these kids. I can look ‘em in the eye and I know they’re on all that junk. Most of them are. Doesn’t matter how nice they look. And so then the shit starts to fly and he gets all crazy. I barely moved toward him and he grabs some pencils off the desk. If I hadn’t jerked out of the way at just the right time, this hole in my shoulder would have been a hole in my damn eye! But, I’m quick. I’m like a hawk and a weasel combined. I know when to duck and when to dodge. Know when to dodge; I’d advise that, too. I guess Richie doesn’t know how to dodge, huh? He knew what he needed from me, and I gave it to him. I don’t give a shit what Lowe says. It was a good thing I was there.

��You’ll see what I’m talking about soon enough. Don’t think of these here marks as bruises or scars, think of them as badges of honor. Wear ‘em with pride. When your task is cleaning up a junk yard, you gotta expect some sharp edges now and then.

��This one? No, this one my dad gave me when I was ten. No it ain’t a tattoo, it’s a cigar burn. Shouldn’t have pissed Dad off that day. But, I was asking for it. He just had to straighten me out, that’s all. It’s the same thing we’re doing for these kids. Some of ‘em aren’t lucky enough to have dads at all, you know. And if they do, most of ‘em are drunk and on welfare. We’re the dads at this school, you and me. Don’t forget that.

��Oh, now this is a great one here; this one’s a classic. Susie Reynolds gave me this. She didn’t like it when I told her that drinking so much would cause her kid to come out with two heads. I probably shouldn’t have added that she wouldn’t be carrying around that extra load if she wasn’t such a damn slut. Finish school first, then get yourself knocked up, I said.

��Then, wham, a fist full of white, bony knuckles knocks me in my ear. It still rings sometimes. In my thirteen years working here, I never had a female student strike me like that. I’ll never forget it. You gotta look over your shoulder for both the chicks and the punks. Don’t let them pretty faces fool you.

��These kids, I’ll tell ya, they’ll turn on you. Don’t trust ‘em. They’ll sneak up on you when you’re not looking, so watch out. They might even pretend to be your friend, but don’t fall for that shit. You know, sometimes I can sense when they’re gonna strike. I can feel it. Happens more than you think, and it really gets me anxious. And when you know one of these punks is gonna pull something, you know what I do? (And this is when I feel them staring me down behind my back) When their distrust is burning a hole in my headÉ What you gotta do is—and this is important—get in the first shot.




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