Mayhem in a PillChapter 58 Hiccups are Unexpected
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Mayhem In A PillChapter 57: Glitter Gets Everywhere free porn video
Monday morning, the change in the emotions of the student body was palpable. While the student body usually disregarded the results of the football team’s accomplishments, school pride was evident this day. Not only was their happiness of the win over Judson wafting strongly through the halls, but the following weekend was also Homecoming. This year, the Roosevelt Rough Riders were facing the Robert E. Lee Volunteers. The student body was already making plans for celebrating the next win over the historically bad football team from Lee. Their home team was feeling the same way.
“Yeah, I could feel the difference in the halls, as well, walking to the office this morning. Everyone is still floating on cloud nine about the win on Friday,” Defensive Coordinator and Assistant Head Coach Marty O’Shaughnessy told the collected coaches sitting in their office, after morning practice and before the second class period of the day. “They’re all smiles and already looking forward to winning Homecoming this coming Friday.”
“Yeah, pick your metaphor, fellas... ‘don’t count your chickens before they hatch,’” Coach Van Cleeve, the Varsity Linebackers coach added. “Um, ‘don’t sell the skin before you catch the bear.’” The other coaches began agreeing and adding their examples.
“‘It ain’t over until the fat lady sings,’” Coach Conley said. The running backs coach also chimed in, “‘Don’t cross that bridge until we get there.’” The examples started flowing smoothly. “‘Nothing is carved in stone,’” Coach Krebsbach, the Varsity defensive backs coach, offered.
“I’ve always liked ‘Keep the champagne on ice,’” Big John said. He took his seat at the head of the table, giving the unofficial signal to get the quick meeting started before everyone scattered for the day. “Okay, fellas, real quick: we’ve got Robert E. Lee this weekend, and it is Homecoming, so we have to leave a little more time for pomp and circumstance during the week, and at halftime of the game.
“I have a note from Miss Patty Thompson, the advisor for the Patriot ladies’ squad. She and her girls need access to the locker room Thursday night, after the JV game, for the girls to decorate the locker room for the Homecoming game and to distribute their little goody bags for each player. It means we need to kick the boys out as early as possible so that the Patriots can get home at a reasonable time.
“I have already forwarded her a list of the boys eligible to dress out for the game. We are going to keep the JV boys who dressed for the Judson game in uniform for the Lee game and, if it goes well, the rest of them here on out. Does anyone have a problem with that? No. Good.” Big John quickly glanced at Coach Krebsbach and Coach Van Cleeve, the two junior varsity coaches, when he announced the decision.
“Hey, Big John, I don’t have any problem with it, at all. I mean, those kids deserve it, but are we gonna have those boys dress out for their JV game and then also dress out the following night at the varsity game? That might be a bit too much. Rules say they can’t play in both games. They can only play in one or the other. We’d be tempting ourselves to put them into the game if we have them there and blow out the Vols. I know we aren’t supposed to celebrate a win before we play, but shit, the boys were gonna put a whoopin’ on the Volunteers, even before Murphy started playing. It was the only win we were sure to get in district play,” Coach Van Cleeve challenged. The other coaches in the room nodded in agreement with Coach Van Cleeve.
“Well, it’s only a couple of games, and we’ll just have to make sure we don’t play them. It just felt nice to have a lot of kids on the sideline when we won, didn’t it?” All the coaches around the table again nodded in agreement.
“Hell, I don’t know about you guys, but I like the atmosphere around the school during homecoming week. The students are excited because of the chance for a party. The football team gets a little bit more of an incentive from their friends and significant others to win the game. Hell, I know a bunch of the teachers and even a couple of administrators who are looking forward to showing their support this week,” Big John quipped with a stealthy grin carved into his face. He read further on his notes.
“Miss Thompson said the fundraising from the Booster club has gotten them enough money to go, in her words, ‘all out’ with the gifts for each player’s goody bag and the homecoming mums for the spirit squads, cheerleaders, and band. She says there is a special surprise inside the bags this year that will take the bags to new heights of importance but, before you ask, she won’t tell me the surprise – not even a hint – so we all wait until Friday to see it for ourselves.”
Decades earlier, when the Rough Riders threatened the state football powers, the goody bags were filled with candy and snacks, coupons for food from local restaurants, free movies from the local movie theaters, and tickets for goods and services from other area small businesses. The goody bags themselves were colored gift bags decorated with ribbons, tassels, balloons, and glitter. Also attached to the bags were colorful drawings and personalized pieces of art that were usually hand-drawn and pasted upon the bag with the player’s name and number featured prominently.
“Each player is getting a personalized mum to wear around school, and those girls are gonna be busy this week creating homecoming mums for each of us coaches as well and for the teachers and administrators. She said ours will be small and simple mums for your arm,” Coach said.
Mums and Texas High school homecoming football games go together like peanut butter and jelly. Unfortunately, it is not a regularly practiced part of high school anywhere else except for portions of states neighboring Texas, like Oklahoma and Louisiana. The practice began decades earlier as a simple chrysanthemum gift from a boy to a girlfriend for the traditional Homecoming dance that generally followed a selected home football game.
The mum has transformed over time to take on the real personality of the citizens of Texas. Everything gets bigger and more elaborate in Texas.
The students have developed a tradition of wearing abstruse and ever-larger floral pins to their homecoming dances. They also wear them throughout day of the homecoming game and even in the stands while watching said homecoming game. These pins — more often larger than a dinner plate and covered in artificial flowers, ribbons, and stuffed animals — are known as mums.
The mum is to the corsage as Baz Luhrman’s “Romeo & Juliet” movie is to Shakespeare ... extravagant and modernized.
“We’ll have to remind the boys, if they have significant others, it’s probably not a bad idea for them to get them some sort of personalized gift before Friday,” Coach Conley offered the group.
“Yes, good idea, Coach. We’ll bring it up this afternoon before we head out for practice. That’s all I have for you guys. Have a good day, and I’ll see you all later,” Big John ended the meeting and went into his office.
The coaches left their office, and those who were also teachers left for their classrooms. The varsity offensive and defensive coordinators went into Big John’s office to discuss whatever was on their minds. Big John was sitting in his chair with his head in his hands. It was a bit of a shock to the two old friends because their boss was very animated in the coaches’ meeting. “What’s up, Big John? You okay?” Carl Conley asked with a quick pat on the shoulder before taking his regular seat on the office couch.
“Yeah, you okay?” defensive coordinator O’Shaughnessy added while sitting in the visitor chair by the door.
“What? Oh, no. I’m fine.” Big John took in a deep breath and let it out as he sat back in his leather-bound executive chair. A look at his longtime friends and he decided to be truthful with them both. “I’ve been second-guessing myself, recently. All of our recent successes, including finally beating Judson, got me thinking about what if I had opened up and made some changes earlier when everyone was questioning me. Was I wrong for staying so steadfast in my ways for all these years,” Big John asked no one in particular.
“Yes,” the two oldest assistant coaches said instantaneously.
Big John sat back, shocked. Not by what his longtime friends said but by how they said it. No lead-in time, no hemming or hawing. Just a straight ‘pull off the stuck-on bandage immediately’ answer. They didn’t even have to look at each other.
“Yes, Big John. You were too thick-headed for your own good and wasted a couple of teams featuring some really talented kids in the past few years,” Coach Conley got started with a speech he had practiced to himself for many years and now found himself just blurting out. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.
“I can think of about five different kids who had the talent to play college ball but, by sticking to the ways that worked for you in the past, you robbed them of that opportunity. Like, here’s an example, remember that Simmons kid from a few years ago?” Coach Conley asked his two friends. Both nodded, remembering the boy.
“Well, I can still remember Ed White inviting me to watch that boy practice and even to a couple of games. The coaches over there saw they had an incredible leader with a rocket arm on their hands. Those fellas told me they changed the entire offense over a weekend around that boy. They won every game he played. He graduates and comes up to us, and what do you do? You turn him into a wide receiver because he is kinda tall and lanky. Well, he was just a growing kid like they all are. His parents were smart enough to enroll him in that private school, aw shit, Marty, you know the one I’m talking about,” Coach Conley said, pointing to the defensive coach.
“Cornerstone Christian.”
“Exactly. Cornerstone. Hell, they got one look at the boy and actually created a program for the school because he was there. He only played three years there because he was just a regular student his first year at Cornerstone while his parents and a few others got the money together to create a football program.” Coach Conley sat back into the couch, winding down from his excitement. Coach O’Shaughnessy was smiling as he wound down.
“Don’t forget about that big boy from Krueger – um, Ambrose, I think was his name. He looked small for football but hit a growth spurt before ninth grade, and his family moved apartments into the Alamo Heights school district. He was a four-year starter for them, making all-state his junior and senior years. He was supposed to come here, but his parents understood you would have made him sit, being a freshman, and he is now in line to be a high draft pick of the NFL. He should have been a Rough Rider instead of a Mule.
“We’ve heard way too many stories of high-caliber athletes transferring away from Roosevelt to go to other schools, giving your rules as the number one, two, and three main reasons for doing so. There have been, in the last fifteen to twenty years, about ten or twelve players that transferred away from Roosevelt to play football anywhere in the city if their parents could pull it off. Believe you me, Big John, the other coaches were more than happy to hear about the way you stayed with your older ideas and schemes. The game adapted, and we became extinct,” Coach O’Shaughnessy said from his seat, but he was more disgusted than upset.
“Jeez, thanks for giving it to me so kindly.”
“Aww, shut up, John. We’re all too old to worry about something like that with each other,” Conley said.
“But the point is, Big John, you are now making those changes for the future, and we did not let a once-in-a-lifetime type of player fall through our fingers to some other school. Shit, can you imagine the dirty, underhanded crap some other schools will be trying, just to pull Murphy away from Roosevelt when the season ends?” O’Shaughnessy pointed out.
“Shit, you’re right, Marty! Every damn private school in the state. Every booster club looking to buy a better team. Hell, who are we kidding? Think about all those football factories that have popped up in Florida, Georgia, Virginia, New Jersey, Michigan, and California. Some of those schools play on TV every week. Individualized coaching from recently-retired NFL players turning into coaches and tutoring in the classroom to get you to pass your classes and to get you ready for college,” Conley nervously added. Coach Conley’s eyes widened when he realized something. “Big John, what would those vipers at Judson do to try and lure him to their school?”
“You guys are a little behind already. Murphy has already had an initial in-house visit from IMG Academy,” Big John added.
“Are you shitting us? Did they offer him a scholarship all ready?” Conley asked nervously.
“No. He told me they were just letting him know they were going to be watching him as he progressed and wanted to just let him know that playing with them is a possibility. He said it was after their first game. You know the first viral game he played.”
The room was quiet as the three coaches were each lost in their thoughts.
“Hey, Marty,” Big John nudged. Marty looked up at his head coach. “If you were in his situation, would you go to IMG or stay at your high school?”
Now Coach O’Shaughnessy sat back in the chair and put himself into Murphy’s shoes.
“Why the fuck you asking him and not me, John?” Conley asked, a little hurt but smiling.
“Well, Marty was an All-American running back when they used to allow dinosaurs on the field. He was offered by bunches of schools to play football while in high school.”
“Yeah, but if they had only asked, they would have seen I was Irish all the way! The house had a Notre Dame flag flying just below the American flag, out front, growing up. My old man and I would raise them every morning when he went off to work and, when I came home after practice, he would wait for me, and we’d bring them down at night together. I was going to play football at Notre Dame, no matter what!
“But yeah, I seriously think I would have thought about, maybe my senior year, going off to another school in another state just to see what another part of the country was like. That was the biggest shock to me in college. I had never played with any African American players in high school – or even against any. The four high schools where they played were in a different league, so I never played against any. I never had any trouble playing with them once I got to Notre Dame, but I could not understand why so many others did have a problem with having African Americans on the team. I figure if they were good enough to be here, then let’s solve any problems out on the field. That’s why I went over into the defensive line. It became very clear to me those guys were much better runners than I was, and I really didn’t need to have the ball. Hell, I think I was a better d-lineman than I was a running back.”
“So do you guys think we could have been beating Judson all this time, for the last twenty years, if I had just listened to you guys more?” Big John challenged.
“No.” Again, they didn’t have to look at each other to answer at the same time.
Big John put his head in his hands again and waved them out for their day.
“So, dumbass, do you have a date for the homecoming dance, yet?” Johnnie Boynes needled as he poured more cheese sauce onto a bowl full of tortilla chips for his nutritious lunch of nachos. A couple of the other players were also in line, eavesdropping in on the conversation. Johnnie was the only one who dared to call Tim any names other than his given one or the ever-present ‘Mayhem.’
Tim ignored the jibe as well as the chuckles from the lunch line and continued picking out his lunch. “Mayhem, I asked you a question! Do you have a date for the homecoming dance, man?” Johnnie repeated.
Tim looked to his friend with a small smile knowing he forced his friend to use the agreed-upon nickname. “No. I don’t. I don’t think I’m gonna even go. I don’t wanna be, like, the only freshman there and, besides, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ll bet we might even find a girl who wouldn’t be too freaked out about your deeply disturbing need for a nightlight glowing brightly all night long,” Johnnie added.
Tim knew he was joking and decided to play along. When Johnnie brought up the nightlight, Tim stopped moving and added a slight shake in his hands as he was reaching for some fruit to add to his lunch.
“I don’t, um,” Tim stammered, and his voice barely squeaking loudly enough for his friend to hear. “I don’t need a nightlight.”
Tim then dramatically stood straighter and, with false bravado, continued. “I haven’t needed one in like wee ... no, months.” His voice noticeably cracked. Other students were looking to each other, worried that they could be hearing something real. Tim then slumped over a little and meekly pushed his tray of food closer to the checkout register. “I don’t need a nightlight,” Tim meekly squeaked.
The little section of the cafeteria was eerily quiet. Students and cafeteria workers, alike, looked to each other for verification of what they had heard; was the newest hero of the school afraid of the dark?
Johnnie waited a few seconds then, made a fist and pumped it up and down in front of his face. “And ... scene! Wonderful, my dear boy! Simply wonderful!” Johnnie announced, using a faux English accent and dramatically applauding high above his head.
Tim stood back up straight once again, a massive smile on his face, and took a step back to bow to the cafeteria. The realization of a minor prank soon made its way through the cafeteria, triggering equal numbers of jeers at being pranked and giggles of appreciation of a well-done joke.
The two made their way to their usual lunch table and were joined by their main friends. Hangers-on had filled in many tables in the immediate area. Everyone wanted to be friendly with friends who would eventually be the kings of the school. “I can’t believe how convincing you were, dude!” Johnnie exclaimed as he took his seat across from Tim. Tim answered with a smile and a large initial bite of the first of his two hamburgers.
“So, anything interesting on the net about our game with Lee on Friday?” Tim asked the table.
Tony Parker smiled and opened his iPad flat on the table for everyone to see. Several other iPads on other nearby tables also opened and began logging on to several different high school football-centered websites. The sites were checked for backtalk between opposing teams and their fan-bases. With easy access to the internet, a popular thing to do in Texas high schools, especially during lunch, was to talk trash against the other schools. With the recent success of Roosevelt on the football field, the student body was undoubtedly more emboldened to raise the volume of their taunts at whichever school was next on the hit list.
While traditionally not a very strong football team, Lee had several star players on a team that never gelled to their full potential. This season, Lee had a star quarterback but no reliable receivers to throw the ball to and no real potent blockers on the offensive line. That was okay because their defense did not play very well, either.
“Boy, I tell you, Taylor Benson’s girlfriend is going to get him killed on the field, sooner rather than later, for the way she talks smack online about her boyfriend,” Tony announced, pointing out a new post from the young lady.
“I feel sorry for the Rough Riders since, for the first time all season, they are gonna finally find out what it is like to face a good quarterback! Taylor’s gonna run roughshod over Mayhem and put him in his place! Lee Seniors, Forever!”
“Christ! How long did she have to think to come up with that one?” Tim asked.
It took a few moments for the laughter around the table to settle down. Fingers danced on different iPads on the cafeteria tables as people posted Tim’s reaction to the Lee QB’s fanatical girlfriend. Smaller conversations restarted around the other lunch tables, and the noise level rose to the normal lunchtime levels while everyone returned their attentions to their lunches.
Tim was busily chewing his second hamburger and vaguely keeping up with the different conversations, basically waiting for his name to enter any of them. Jeff Smith was also working on a second hamburger and was seated directly across the table from Tim. Jeff’s sudden look of disbelief caused Tim to tense up right before he was hit across his back with a chair by someone who swung it very hard. The attacker got a second clean hit before being subdued. That was when the attacker’s incoherent ramblings reached high volumes, and equal numbers of kids were coming closer or backing away.
Tim sat back up and noticed he had squeezed his hamburger, and the excess ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise mixture had painted a fantastic Jackson Pollack-like scene across his once-white polo shirt.
“Mother fucker! You ain’t taking my girl from me! I’ll fucking kill you! You fucking piece of fuck!” The yells quickly devolved into loud grunts and growls. “Get off of me! He’s gotta pay! Let me go, goddammit!”
The attack surprised the nanites, who were busily going over their protocols as to whether they had been guilty of not identifying the attack. Their messages on Tim’s vision showed their worry. “Initial scans show no immediate damage to the body. The force of the blow, while unexpected, was not enough to cause bruising, even if you were not enhanced by us. No need for any repairs. You are uninjured.” Tim quickly read what the nanites said and confirmed it within himself. “End of message.”
Tim tried wiping the mess off his shirt, only succeeding in spreading the chaos but did collect some of the excess condiments off his shirt. He grabbed several napkins and cleaned his hands while turning to see a struggling teen he did not recognize trying to break free of Johnnie Boynes, Troy Williams, and Frank Robinson. They were all struggling to hold the young man on the floor.
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