He came out of the kitchen with a live lobster, threw it on the table and shouted "You think my fish is not fresh? Look how fresh this is!"

Keith and I meet in art class after I jokingly stab him with a number two pencil and then actually stab him with a number two pencil. He’s the only ginger I have seen at school and we’ve become the best of friends. We are both dating hot goth/indie chicks who wear fake Marilyn Monroe birthmarks, pink wigs, and knee-high high heeled vinyl boots. We skip first period study hall every morning to smoke cigarettes outside the faculty parking lot. We make pipes out of kazoos and tin foil and get high during lunch. We smoke so much that when the security guard finally notices us we’re laughing too hard to answer. We both get jobs at Perkin’s bussing tables and flirting with college girls. They like Keith because he doesn’t give a shit. They like me because I don’t say much. We all get high in the walk-in refrigerator and the walk-in freezer. Aisha and Corrine, robust twin waitresses want us. Keith and I both wear ponytails and Don Juan mustaches. We do this all of junior year. On the rare occasion we work day shift one of us is always dishwashing while the other is bussing. Because of this we are quite profane. Sue, a twenty year veteran, inevitably squirts whipped cream into her mouth and then screams after several hours of holding her tongue.

After a fight that lasted only a few seconds, Bush said, he heard Rice say, “He bit my finger off,” and he saw a stump.

We’re in the bathroom and the door is closed. I want to fuck her while sitting on the toilet seat both of us facing the full-length mirror her mother dresses in front of each morning before going to work as a bank teller. She refuses because she says it’s dirty. Then she lies down on the slip rug beside the tub and pulls me to her by the front pocket of my button up. I rub her pussy over her vinyl pants and raise her white cotton v-neck patterned with yellow daisies, to kiss my favorite cluster of freckles under her left breast. While I’m fingering her she suddenly pushes me away. What the fuck’s the matter, I say. It’s nothing, forget it. I reach for her pussy and she closes her legs. Your fingers feel like bottle caps.

"I don't want a sock around it, that feels ridiculous. If we’re naked in the scene, then I’m naked. I’ve always been that way."

Grabbing a slice of buttered toast I run toward the backdoor. When I get there my mother clicks off her hair dryer and bustles up from the eating area table losing her place in her mystery thriller as she walks through the family room opening her robe quickly before covering her naked body in thin fabric. She ties it shut while she’s kissing me goodbye. This is the first time I’ve seen a naked woman. I am struck by her vast abundance of pubic hair. I think about it all day at school. When I get home it’s uncomfortable to hug her. We eat grilled cheese sandwiches and she asks me about my day.

Founded in 1946, Butler Aircraft contracts with the Oregon Department of Forestry and the State of California for multi-engine aerial firefighting. At Butler Aircraft our mission is "To be the best by exceeding customer expectations!"

My grandfather takes me walking in the park by the airport to watch planes taking off and landing. The strongest memories of him are the sound of his card shuffler, and how it looked like a rolodex, his numerous hats, and the patch over the left lens of his glasses, covering the eye that since his stroke peers exclusively at a thirty degree angle. Rita tap dances across the linoleum floor in her apron and white wool sweater every time Shirley Temple is on television and she always asks grandfather to help her with the ice cream. She eventually gets Alzheimer’s and dies. My other grandfather buys me a remote control war aircraft with a four foot cord connecting the remote to the aircraft so you have to run with it in order to use it successfully. Even then it never leaves the ground and crashes continually. His handshakes hurt and smell of cigarettes and his wife Norma never lets us play with her Mets Starting Lineup figures. They smoke and drink and watch the Mets. He used to go the bar where his first wife, Lynn worked and drank her tips. She turns 83 on Tuesday and is the only one left.

"We just saw a GIGANTIC shark eat what looked like a person right in front of our house in fishhoek. Unbelievable."

I’m in love. She sits two seats to my left in the next row up. She’s a sophomore and I’m a junior. Her name is Jasmine. Always on Mondays she comes to math class, her strawberry blond hair a magnificent backdrop to a single braid; each week dyed a different color. This week: lavender. Mrs. Porter catches me staring at her one day when I had taken LSD before homeroom. She asks me something about the shortest distance between two points. Everyone turns as she takes a piece of chalk and extends her arm in my direction. I turn to the Indian boy next to me and spend several seconds admiring his tattoo. When I snap out of it Mrs. Porter has continued teaching class, and I wonder if all that really happened. I’m in love. Every Monday she comes to math class, her strawberry blond hair a tenuous backdrop to a single braid. This week: dark, dark brown. She wears black lipstick and vinyl. I stay after school for tutoring. Then I see her outside walking up the left side of the U, two or three cars sitting with impatient mothers. She walks toward Main Street listening to Sonic Youth and eating bite-sized pretzels. I walk up to her and ask her if she wants to go out with me. I ask her again because she doesn’t hear me through her headphones. When she notices me she pulls the headphones down around her neck and offers me a pretzel. I refuse because of my retainer.

"It started with an online relationship between the teacher and the child of some sort,” Harrington said, “and so you are seeing district after district establish guidelines about what is appropriate use and inappropriate use of Facebook and whether they should text children or not."

Miss Algier has the most magnificent legs I’ve ever seen. She looks nothing like the women in the magazines. Every day in the spring she wears a skirt just short of the knee and a button down shirt tucked in. She often sits on the desk when she’s reading to us from novels or short stories. She never wears tights of any kind and I love to watch her legs crossed, part, and then cross again. I never see anything else, but I don’t need to. One day a Gargamel-looking character interrupts the class and asks to speak to me in the hallway. I’ve never seen him before. Out in the hallway he tells me I have a speech impediment and that every week, on a rotating schedule, I’m going to visit him in the disability center. In the disability center is an aggressive Mexican kid and an overweight Polish girl. We struggle through sentences in order to win prizes. After several weeks I win a blue pencil with a Buffalo Bills helmet eraser. This is the same year Norwood kicks wide right. Leslie Evans makes me fight a kid who smells like sausage. It’s the year I give the finger to a def kid and convince my homeroom teacher he was mistaken.