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take away my recess for crying. Having my recess taken away wasn’t even that much of a punishment. But when that happened I had to stay in the lunchroom with one of the monitors while they stared at me. There I would sit, pitifully looking down at my half-eaten tray of food.
    “ You’ve really done it now,” Pearlbottom would say, leaning down so close to me I could see the pores on her face, close to gaping, cheap and shiny make-up slathered over top of them. And this snide blob had the worst breath I’d ever smelled. She chewed cinnamon-flavored gum and drank coffee all day and this combination created an amazingly shit-like type of halitosis. Her teeth were all decayed so they looked like little Tic Tacs, the green kind, hanging from her gums. “Some people just never learn. You see if you’re still in here at the end of the year, Wally.”
    Sometimes it seemed like all people did was threaten me and that smegma drenched cunthole was probably right. I wouldn’t be there at the end of the year. At least, I didn’t want to be there at the end of the year. And, even more, I didn’t want to have to come back to the middle school the next year, either.
    That sucker of Drifter Ken’s got me through the day. Or, at least, the first part of the day. When recess came, it was the sucker that finally got me into trouble. By the time recess did finally come, I was practically salivating over that damn thing. My hand rested on the bulge in my pants. With the sweaty tips of my twitching fingers, I could practically taste that sucker through the denim of my pants and its thin plastic wrapper. I had to be careful not to twitch too much though, so Blob Pearlbottom wouldn’t think I was playing with myself, which is apparently a very serious offense in school. The last time it happened, I didn’t even get the hallway. I was sent straight to the office where Mr. Rheingold, another blob, suspended me for the rest of the week.
    I didn’t see what the big fuss was. It wasn’t like I had it out or anything. Wasn’t school a place for exploration? No one even noticed except Pearlbottom. If it hadn’t been for Becky Trawlers’ ass crack hanging out the back of her pants, it wouldn’t have happened anyway. To me, it seemed more indecent to have your ass exposed than it did to have your hand discreetly shoved down the front of your pants. The kids called me "Whack Off Wally” for the rest of that year, the Year of Lottie Simpson’s Reign.
    The bell finally rang for recess and I was the first one out of the classroom, one of the conveniences of being in my hall-yanking position. Then I burst through those double doors, their long horizontal steel levers and the wire in the glass of the windows the only thing separating me from outside. I beat hell out to the playground and the fence. It was raining a little bit. Nothing more than a mist really but, without a coat, I should have been freezing. It didn’t really bother me though. My desire for that sucker kept me hot.
    I pulled the green knob out of my pocket and unwrapped it with shaky, sugar-starved hands when I heard a soft voice behind me, freezing me.
    “ Whatcha got there?” At first I thought it might be Pearlbottom.
    I turned around and saw that it was Mary Lou Dover, the hottest girl in my class. She was already fully developed and she had on a tight shirt that ended above her bellybutton, despite the cold. I guess that was so everyone could see how flat and tan her stomach was. A soot smear sat, birthmarkishly, beside her navel. I knew she was as vacant as the rest of the blobs but her beauty or, perhaps at that moment, her militantly erect nipples, kept me from really noticing this blobbishness. It would come out later, as soon as the beauty faded. I guessed that would be like in her mid-twenties, when those legs and that stomach started bulging, after she’d been fucked and beat senseless by every huge-dicked football player that looked at her. Maybe she would take