Mayhem in a PillChapter 58 Hiccups are Unexpected
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Mayhem In A PillChapter 43: Everything Changes Tonight free porn video
Sitting through class and waiting to tell the news of what happened last night after she dropped him off at home was sheer torture. With a couple of minutes left in his English class, Tim pulled up the website on his laptop and got it ready to show his teacher. He had thought it over all night before he went to bed and again during morning practices and other classes. Tim decided to give her the information and let her decide what she wanted to do. If necessary, he could tell her what he did to fix the problem.
The students closed their books and gathered up their belongings when the bell ending the class and starting the late lunch finally rang. Once everyone left, Tim brought his laptop up to the desk of his freshman English teacher and lover, Ms. Julianne Holmes.
“I really hope you aren’t going to show me some silly sex scene you found online, Timothy.”
“No. Nothing like that, but you do need to see this,” Tim answered as he turned the screen around for her to see. She could tell the picture was of her car at night, and it was leaving after dropping off Tim at his house late the previous night.
“Where did you find this?” she gasped, visibly frightened by the picture.
“Apparently, I’m very popular with the girls in this school and also a few of the boys. They have created several websites in my honor. They post news about me and my comings and goings daily.” He copied the website URL and emailed it to his teacher’s private email account. “I fixed the picture before anyone could figure out who it was.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, basically, I downloaded the picture then stopped anyone from getting onto the website and downloading it for themselves.”
“Well, apparently you are aren’t as good at the internet as you thought you were,” she exclaimed. “It’s right there for anyone to see!”
“Here, look at this.” He spun the laptop around on her desk and pulled up the original picture, putting both pictures side-by-side on the screen. “This one,” he related as he pointed to the original. “This one is the picture that went online first.” Julianne could see even in this picture that you could not see who was in the driver’s seat.
“I took it into Photoshop and played with the levels and made it darker, eliminating the chance that anyone could do what I did and figure out who was driving. I then re-cropped it so that more of the license plate was cut out of the picture.”
Julianne sat back down on her desk chair with a thump. She looked like she was about to start crying.
Tim decided to continue explaining what he did. “While I was photoshopping this original picture, I attacked the website with a DDoS attack.” He saw the confusion on her face. “I sent hundreds of thousands of inquiries to the website at the same time. I clogged the lines with so much traffic that the website shut down until the number of queries slowed or the website administrator could arrange for more bandwidth or more room for more people to visit the site. This is a big website, but not that big, and I was able to keep it down for a couple of hours while I scrubbed the original from any computer that had downloaded the picture. I then replaced those pictures with my doctored photo on each of those computers and, just in case anyone else was to come looking for the image, I went ahead and replaced the original with the new one right back on the site where we found it, with no one the wiser.”
“You know how to do all that?”
“Well, yeah. I told you. I read a lot.” He then smiled at her as he powered down his computer. “I even found the original picture in the SD card of the camera that took the picture and replaced it there as well. The fool still had it in the computer he uses for the web.”
“So what do you think we should do now?” She was still near tears and murmuring, nearly mumbling.
“I don’t know. I do know one thing,” he said, looking directly at her. He paused to brush a few stray hairs away from her face. “Well, two things. First, I don’t want us to end. That is a definite thing. I want what we have to continue.”
Julianne smiled at the glimmer of hope that the most wonderful man she had ever met in her life wanted to continue their relationship.
“But we also need to be a lot more careful. I think we have to stop with the weeknight trysts. We are just begging for trouble if we keep doing those. I think we can only see each other on the weekends.”
Julianne nodded her agreement. “I’m just happy that you want to keep seeing me.”
“Oh, it’s gonna take a little bit more than some pictures to get me away from you.” She wanted to jump up into his substantial arms and kiss every inch of his body.
Tim could tell she was about to do something like that, so he quickly took a step back from her. “We have to be careful, Julie, but trust me, I’m of the same thought, and it is taking a shit load of personal strength not to rip every shred of your clothing off your body and hammer-pound you to the wall.”
“Damn, Mayhem! Where you been? You just about missed my favorite class ... lunch!” Johnnie Boynes and the other guys were sitting in their regular seats with various foods piled high in front of each of them.
“Anybody need anything else while I’m getting my lunch?” The answers were mainly grunts but each held up a different food for extras. Three more hamburgers and one more pack of fries. “Dudes, if the coaches see me ordering that much food they gonna run me to death to make sure I don’t get fat.”
“Nah! They ain’t gonna do nothin’ like that. You the golden boy! The great new hope! You gonna be the Roosevelt High School equivalent to a football god once the brightness of the Friday Night Lights of Texas High School football gets their first look at your ugly mug!” The others at the table agreed with Johnnie and grunted or pounded on the table to register their feelings. “But you know what? You might get lost on the way back, or heaven forbid, drop my damn fries. I’ll come with ya.”
Walking to the lunch lines was delayed by several girls wanting to say hello to Tim and, to his surprise, a few for Johnnie as well.
Once they got in line, Tim was able to point out the importance of what had just happened. “Dude. They are finally beginning to recognize you. I knew you would come out of your shell someday and grow into that lovely bird. Ruffle your feathers, little bird. Ruffle your feathers!”
Several people laughed at the joke, but many more started laughing when Johnnie stuck his hands under each armpit, producing a wing effect and he started waving his arms and shift his butt from side-to-side like a little bird just learning to fly.
The lunch lady behind the counter looked at Johnnie like he was crazy. “Boy, what the heck is wrong with you?”
Without skipping a beat, Johnnie turned with his wings flapping and his lips pursed out like a beak. “I get a little bit crazy when I smell good food ma’am and, today, I smell a lot, and I thank you.” He then bowed to the woman. He turned to glance at Tim, and Tim joined in the bow. On the third bow, there were several others to join in with the two football players.
When Johnnie ordered a large cup of fries, the lunch lady gave him a large container filled to the brim, overflowing, then put it on a plate. In her enthusiasm, she poured a few more into the cup, but the fries cascaded out and onto the extra plate she had given him. It was essentially enough fries for several orders.
Tim got the other orders as well as a couple extra for himself including a couple of burritos. The two made their way back to the table, and Tim quickly jogged to the vending machine and bought himself four cans of Hawaiian Punch.
“Hey, the word is out about you making your varsity debut tomorrow night,” Jeff Smith said while passing an iPad around the table for Tim to see. The Dave Campbell’s Texas Football Daily podcast was well underway. Watching the podcast while eating had become the thing to do during the late lunch period. It could be seen on several tables, and the administration did not mind as long as there was no profanity, nudity or gore. Normal football violence was allowed. It is Texas!
“Yes, indeed, the big story coming out of the San Antonio area is centered around the Roosevelt Rough Riders. Legendary coach Big John Fontana not only changed up his offense from the 1970s to today’s version of football, but he’s now letting freshmen play on the varsity. Well, specifically, one freshman, Tim “Mayhem” Murphy has earned a starting job as the right defensive end in the Riders’ four-three defensive scheme. Kevin Thomas, what does this mean for the Riders going forward?”
“Well, Todd, this puts the eyes of Texas High School football all on the Rider team. We’ve all seen the various videos of how Mayhem has been causing just that, in every game he plays. He can thank the grading period for opening up the opportunities for him to pull himself up to the varsity. He proved he was too much for freshman football when he moved up to JV, which was the first crack in Big John’s coaching mountain of rules. When Mayhem played in JV, it was more of the same from the freshman game, just bigger kids being shoved,” Kevin said.
“This Friday, the Rough Riders will be on the visitors’ side of the North East School District’s Jerry Comalander Stadium. There, they will take on the Reagan Rattlers. Before the added hoopla of a new defensive end for the Riders, this game would have been one of the more evenly matched games in the state, as both are well-coached but feature underachievers,” Kevin explained.
“So what should we expect to see Friday night? Is it still an even game or does this Mayhem kid tilt the odds squarely into the Rough Riders favor?” Todd asked.
“Oh, the odds are now squarely with the Riders ... and now the city ... no, the state ... no, the country is gonna get their first look at Tim ‘Mayhem’ Murphy. I, for one, think he’s gonna deliver the goods. When I interviewed him a few weeks ago, I found a humble and quiet kid, but he just happened to be packed into the body of a Greek god, and I can say that with a straight face.”
“Well, don’t you think you are putting a little too much pressure on the young man to perform up to the standards you are placing upon him?”
“Not at all, Todd. Not at all. He has his head on straight! He understands that football is a tool to get where he wants to go. He told me he didn’t know if he had the talents to make a living as a professional football player, but he was going to try and find out!”
“Well, we are going to keep an eye on how Mayhem does tomorrow night against the Reagan Rattlers at Comalander Stadium,” Todd said, finishing his report.
He felt like everyone in the cafeteria was staring in Tim’s direction. They were staring in his direction, but all were trying not to look like they were staring in his direction. Tim could feel every eyeball staring right at him, but what surprised him the most was that he did not mind. “Well, looks like I’m gonna have to show the country what real Rough Rider football is all about.”
The deafening cheer could have woken the dead.
Jeff Green reached across the table and high-fived Tim with a thunderous clap. Tony Parker started doing the “Running Man” in the aisle between cafeteria tables. Johnnie Boynes had a massive smile on his face as he smiled at Tim and was sneaking fries from the other guys at the table. They either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Friday’s game was going to be interesting.
The coaches asked Tim before the start of Friday morning practice walk-through to get his ankles and wrists taped to make sure he felt comfortable with the added support and strength they provided. It took Tim all of two steps for him to realize he did not like the feeling of having his ankles taped. He quickly sat down on a small stool in front of the varsity locker entrance and used the Shark tape cutter chained to the seat. He cut the tape down from the top of the taped ankle to the mid-calf, down the side of the ankle, and through the middle of the foot. He picked up the two halves of the tape and trashed them both. He repeated the job with the other foot.
He looked up and saw Coach Shack with a small smile and the student trainer with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping and an annoyed look on her face. Coach Shack just pointed her to the table with the long line of other players patiently waiting to get their ankles and wrists taped for the night’s game. Coach Shack then went to Tim, “I take it you don’t like the way your ankles feel when taped.”
“Well, Coach, I understand how it’s supposed to help but, well, it just didn’t feel right.”
“Fair enough. What about the wrists?”
“Oh, those. I’m keeping those,” Tim gushed.
Big John stepped out into the locker area from his office and blew a few sharp reports with his whistle. “Okay, ladies, time for dinner. Let’s go to the cafeteria and see what we’ve got for dinner tonight. Remember, keep the noise down. Let’s go!” He pointed both thumbs over his shoulders and spun on his heels toward the cafeteria.
Tim was one of the first ready to go but did not want to be one of the first to get something to eat. When he saw Jeff Smith and Frank Robinson come out from the lockers in their shorts, half t-shirts, and flip-flops. Both guys waved Tim over to go with them to the cafeteria.
“So what do they serve for the meal,” Tim asked.
“Usually some chicken or pasta dish – something heavy on the carbs. Gets us fueled up for the game,” Jeff said as they left through the locker room exit nearest the cafeteria. “Last week was spaghetti that wasn’t half bad. No, let me take that back. I have not had a bad meal before a game as long as I’ve been on the varsity,” Jeff corrected. “The lunch ladies leave us well fed, that’s for damn sure.”
Right before they opened the door to the cafeteria, Jeff held the door and looked at Tim. “Now, there is not a lot of talking during the meal. It’s not against the rules or anything, but the coaches would prefer you to keep your mind on the game. Most guys prefer the quiet because it’s a sets the mood and helps to get your head in the right place to kick a little ass.”
“I usually listen to some music my dad had picked out for me before the game. I don’t even know what it is until I start playing it,” Tim said as they entered the cafeteria.
“Oh, yeah?” Frank offered. “Anything good?”
“Well, he said good music stopped at 2010. He sends me a YouTube link, and I watch a music video to a song I’d never heard before. Well, not every time. The last couple of songs, I had heard before. Just a good song to get your head right,” Tim explained while joining the end of the line.
The three players followed the short line to the servers. It was then that Tim noticed there were no lunch ladies there serving the food. The coaches were dishing out the meal.
“Tim Murphy, are you ready for tonight?” said the head coach, Big John Fontana. He was waiting at the end of the line for receiving food and handing over slices of toasted bread to go with the Chicken Parmigiana on spaghetti with a variety of sides.
“Don’t worry about the crowd, son. Just remember to do what the coaches tell you to do and concentrate on what is happening in the game,” he offered while patting Tim’s shoulder.
He spoke not just to Tim, but to each of the players in line, individually. He was giving words of encouragement to each as they came through the line.
Tim sat with next to Jeff Smith, and Frank Robinson sat in front of him.
“So, Mayhem, I didn’t hear you answer the coach. Are you ready for tonight?” Frank asked as he shoveled food into his mouth.
“About as ready as I can be, I guess,” Tim said as he took a small bite to make sure it was palatable. Jeff noticed the reaction on Tim’s face after the first bite.
“See? I told ya. I haven’t had a bad pregame meal since being on varsity,” Jeff said as he worked a large chunk of chicken into his mouth. “What about you, Frank?” he asked.
It took a few moments before Frank could answer since he needed to swallow some of the food already in his mouth. He didn’t wait to swallow it all but just pushed it to one side so he could speak.
“I’m with you, man. I ain’t never had bad food before a game,” he said as he swallowed the rest of the food in his mouth and continued. “Come to think of it, I ain’t never had a bad meal even for lunch during a regular day from this cafeteria,” he explained. Frank cut another large bite from the chicken parmesan and the spaghetti beneath it, but you could see he was coming up with an idea while eating. “I wonder if there was some way we could thank the lunch ladies.” He smiled at the thought then shoveled more food into his mouth.
“Yeah, that is probably something we can think about,” Jeff reasoned. “But not tonight.”
He then put some volume into his voice as he said, “Tonight, we are going to kick some Rattler ass!”
Jeff paused for the agreeing grunts, table pounding and hand clapping to finish. “From now on, Tim, once the school day ends, and we start getting ready for the game, ‘Tim’ goes away. Tonight we need ‘Mayhem.’ What do you think of that?”
Tim finished the last of his meal and could actually feel his team pride and spirit rise very quickly, but he decided to keep it under wraps for a little while longer.
“Oh, yeah, Mayhem is coming. I’ll let him out to play once I can put on my helmet and hit somebody,” Tim said in a deep, guttural, and menacing voice.
At the next table over, some of the starting members of the offense could overhear the conversation. “Damn, Tim, I’m sorry I fucked with you the day before two-a-days,” Rob Newsome, the senior wide receiver who challenged Tim when he received newer gear than even the senior stars of the team, apologized. “I’m thrilled that I’m not playing for the Rattlers!”
Even many of the coaches who were cleaning the food preparation areas started laughing at their players’ witty repartee.
The players returned to the locker room after they finished eating. While they were eating, a couple of the coaches were busy in the locker room. Someone had handed out all the jerseys for this night’s game. Roosevelt was considered the visiting team even though both schools shared Jerry Comalander Stadium as the centerpiece of their large Blossom Athletic Center complex.
In addition to the Comalander Stadium, there was also the Littleton Gymnasium, hosting the central basketball court with room for just over six thousand fans to watch a basketball game. The basketball arena was reserved for larger, more important games such as playoff and championship games. The complex also housed state-of-the-art Josh Davis Natatorium for swimming and diving competitions. Let’s not forget the eighteen-court tennis center, butting up against the newly-remodeled baseball stadium and practice fields.
As the visiting team, the Rough Riders were required to wear the darker-color uniforms while the home team wore their lighter ones.
The Roosevelt color scheme of patriotic red, white and blue had the team wearing white pants, their blue jersey with white numbering, and their red helmets. The players had only one school-issued helmet for practice and gameplay. Larger schools like Judson issued their players two helmets, one for training and one for actual games.
Tim sat down on the bench in front of his locker and noticed a blue jersey hanging from one of the hooks. He pulled it down off the hook and held it by the shoulders. The blue jersey was stunning to Tim’s eyes, and the white “99” with a red outline was just beautiful.
“We’re gonna keep you in that number for now, but later this week, the coaches are going to talk to you about an idea proposed by Coach Alvarez, but don’t worry about that right now; we’ll deal with it later,” Coach Barrett intoned before he left the lockers. He left a slightly confused Tim with a few other players, who sat near him, also wondering what he meant by that cryptic statement.
Tim quickly put that question to the back of his mind because he was still looking at his new jersey. He pulled out his phone and texted his parents, telling them to “keep an eye out for number 99!”
A minute later he got a “will do!” from his mom and a “have fun and screw the eggshells” from his dad as well as a reminder to check his email. He put his phone back in the locker, pulled out his iPad from his backpack, and pulled up his email, finding the link his father sent.
He then put the iPad down so he could finish putting his jersey on his shoulder pads, putting them over his helmet and placing them all on the floor in front of him. He grabbed his iPad and his headphones.
Tim found where Jeff and Frank were sitting off to the side away from everyone and subtly waved the iPad and headphones at Jeff who saw and nudged Frank. They both waved him over.
“Okay, I got the link from my dad, but I haven’t even checked it, yet,” Tim offered.
“That’s cool. Here try this.” Jeff handed over a small, blue-colored, five-way headphone jack splitter while Frank handed over his headphone jack. Tim plugged the splitter into his iPhone and plugged his, Jeff’s and Frank’s headphones into the splitter. Tim opened his email, clicked on the link and waited for the YouTube video to start. All three players smiled when they saw the title of the video before it started.
Everyone was now quiet as they sat on the school bus making its way down the highway to go to the stadium. Tim was still bobbing his head and tapping his feet to the rhythms of the couple dozen different songs he, Jeff, and Frank began listening to before the coaches declared it time to go.
There was everything from rap to heavy metal, and a couple of classical pieces thrown in for good luck. They all seemed to do what they were created to do. Tim didn’t really pay attention to where they were. He was focusing on the defensive play calls he had been learning. He did not want to make any mistakes! He knew, if he did, he could probably make something happen to correct the error, but not making a mistake in the first place would be the best option.
They were getting ready to pull into the stadium when, across the bottom of his eyesight, Tim noticed, “Good luck with the game this evening. You are going to do great. If you need us, we will be here.” Then a brief pause, “End of message.”
When he stepped off the bus, his helmet and shoulder pads firmly in his grasp, he followed the large frame of one of his teammates and used the noise of the bus exodus to muffle his thanks to the nanites.
Tim entered the locker room and remembered that he was supposed to put his gear down and sit for last-second pregame notes and encouragement from the coaches. Tim noticed Jeff waving him over when he got in the door and quickly dropped off his helmet and shoulder pads beside Jeff’s to then follow him out to do a walk-through of the field.
The fans were slowly beginning to arrive at the stadium. Tim and Jeff walked up and down the field. They would make a few quick sprints and then line up in a normal, three-point stance, proceeding to practice the various moves they had learned to use in other games. Tim also mixed in techniques he had seen on the internet. He was desperately trying to avoid thinking about how many people were going to be in the stands watching and how many internet people would be focusing on him for their stories this weekend.
Frank Robinson said, as if he was reading his mind, “You can’t do anything about the fans in the stands or the reporters recording every second of how you play. All you can do is play your best and be there for your teammates! You do what you can do. Trust me. Jeff and I’ll be there to clean up anything that needs cleaning.”
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