Post by James Gilmore on Jan 19, 2019 20:03:35 GMT
”MRS. ROBINSON - PART I”
Stardate: 96646.89 (January 17, 2019 - 4:45 PM)
“You seem excited…,” James Gilmore’s fiancee Yulia chimed as the couple sat together in their villa’s living room, munching on pizza they had ordered from Domino’s.
The weather in Corpus Christi on this day was rather cool and cloudy, but that didn’t dampen the Islander alum’s spirit. He was happy to know that this “search” for Roberto Verona was almost at its conclusion, but deep in his soul...he understood what it was really all about...learning how to work with others as a team, especially when it came to Rob Diamond.
“Yeah hun,” he said while sipping from a can of real sugar Pepsi. “This whole investigation thingy’s almost done. It ain’t exactly what I signed up for, ya know?!”
“Well...you are an entertainer,” Yulia chuckled. “Not a detective.”
“I know,” James replied. “Truth is, I’m learnin’ all kinds of things, good things, on this search. Rob might be a l’il cuckoo at times, but I’m...I’m startin’ to get to likin’ him a lot.”
Yulia smiled, her eyes glowing as she shared with James how her day went.
“I do not understand something,” she spoke softly as the KIII-TV Channel 3 5:00 PM newscast played on the living room’s big screen. “When I was on the bus after shopping at the La Palmera Mall today, I heard some teenaged children...well, they were using words I could not translate in my mind. One of those phrases was…’double dumbass on you.’ I found that to be a rather...colorful metaphor. They were playing this song very loudly too...listen.”
Yulia pulled her Samsung phone out and played the most recent video clip she took of the teenagers in question. They were seen sporting mohawks, leather biker’s attire, and blaring a song from a 1980s-era “ghetto blaster” boombox that sounded like this...
”Just where is our future, the things we done and said!
Let’s just push the button, we’d be better off dead!
‘Cause I hate you!
And I berate you!
And I can’t wait to get to you!”
“They did this too after I politely asked them to turn the volume down,” she said, pointing out the part where the lead punk flipped her off.
”The sins of all our fathers, being dumped on us -- the sons.
The only choice we’re given is how many megatons?!
And I eschew you!
And I say, SCREW YOU!!!
And I hope you’re blue, too.
We’re all bloody worthless, just greedy human scum
The numbers all add up to a negative sum…”
James couldn’t help but shake his head in bemusement. He had seen Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home plenty of times in his life to know what the punks were doing. The “punk on the bus” scene was one of his favorites growing up.
“That movie, the one with the whales...they wanna emulate what they see,” he said. “Sadly, that’s the way most kids talk nowadays. Thing is, nobody pays any attention to ya unless you swear every other word.”
“Teenagers should never swear,” Yulia responded with a deep sigh.
“Yeah...but I think, in this climate, as observers we should just keep our mouths shut and let the parents deal with ‘em,” James intoned, reminding himself of his own experiences as a child. “I wasn’t perfect either. I said a few of them colorful metaphors myself as a kid--usually when I accidentally spilled somethin’ durin’ lunch. It ain’t somethin’ I’m proud of, but...I learned ‘em from my dad.”
Yulia raised her left brow in curiosity.
“You!?! Swearing?!,” she giggled. “What happened, hrmmm…?”
“I was in third grade,” James spoke sheepishly as he closed his eyes. “Right in the middle of lunchtime…”
---
Third grade. Nineteen-ninety, the end of a decade and beginnin’ of another.
While the years might have changed, some things remained the same.
I was still goin’ to Farine, I was with at least four of my original friends from kindergarten includin’ the always-smilin’ Mary Sue, and...well, I was still havin’ a blast durin’ these wonder years. The Tigger backpack, however, was long gone--replaced by an image of the four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles standin’ proudly together as a team. By this time, Turtlemania had run wild all over the world, and it showed via lunch boxes, toys, even video games!
Who knew that the very tape I watched with my brother only two years prior would feature a series that would become more popular than the Transformers!?!
Not everything was, like, totally radical. Oh...you could say I was--and perhaps, still am--accident prone. I don’t remember what joke I told my friends on Friday in October in the cafetorium--ya know, that place which served as both a cafeteria and an auditorium for school assemblies--but all I could remember was...
“AAHHH!!!”
Mary Sue’s squeal of laughter must’ve scared the dickens outta me, ‘cuz the next thing I knew my tray went flyin’ high into the air! All I would see were the remains of what was my burger and tater tots silhouetted against the lights in the cafeteria before they vanished without a trace!
Yet amidst the cacophony of gleeful snickers and laughter from the other kids in the lunchroom, somethin’ blurted from my lips...
“Ohhhhhhhhh….fffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge…!!!”
...and no, I didn’t say ‘fudge.’
I couldn’t help but borrow from L’il Ralphie here, for all I remember was that I said THE word, The Big One, The Queen Mother of Dirty Words, the F-dash-dash-dash word! Suddenly, the whole joint got eerily quiet and subdued, like a funeral at that, as Mrs. Robinson--a vice-principal who served as Farine’s chief disciplinarian--gave me the dirtiest, most unsympathetic look any kid can get.
“What did you just say!?!”
Hoo-boy, that voice--that authoritative, dictatorial voice from Bradford, England--it reminded me of one of those nanny-types that went around and impressed ‘you naughty little boy!’ into your collective consciousness over and over again! Here I was, standin’ in the middle of a purgatory of dirty looks and stoic faces as she looked down upon my poor l’il frame, my lips unable to render any answer to her question.
“That’s...what I thought you said. Am I right...you naughty boy?!”
All I could do was nod sheepishly, listenin’ to the chuckles from some of the others in the cafetorium who knew I was in some serious trouble. She cleared her throat as she turned around towards the exit.
“Follow me, young lad. We are going to my office…”
With that, my life as I knew it was all over, and I was gonna die. What was it gonna be, hangin’, the rack, the chair, decapitation, the Toasty treatment?! Heh...those were only mere child’s play compared to what surely awaited me. As I slowly trudged out of the lunchroom and into my certain demise, I could’ve sworn I heard the sound of Chopin’s funeral dirge playin’ in the background…
...or maybe it was ‘Taps’...
...or perhaps, it was a certain Simon and Garfunkel tune…
“Come along, we haven’t all day!”
With as much dignity as I could muster, I closed my eyes and continued the walk of shame, still listenin’ to whatever was playin’ in my eight-year-old brain...
“And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey…”
To be continued…
Stardate: 96646.89 (January 17, 2019 - 4:45 PM)
“You seem excited…,” James Gilmore’s fiancee Yulia chimed as the couple sat together in their villa’s living room, munching on pizza they had ordered from Domino’s.
The weather in Corpus Christi on this day was rather cool and cloudy, but that didn’t dampen the Islander alum’s spirit. He was happy to know that this “search” for Roberto Verona was almost at its conclusion, but deep in his soul...he understood what it was really all about...learning how to work with others as a team, especially when it came to Rob Diamond.
“Yeah hun,” he said while sipping from a can of real sugar Pepsi. “This whole investigation thingy’s almost done. It ain’t exactly what I signed up for, ya know?!”
“Well...you are an entertainer,” Yulia chuckled. “Not a detective.”
“I know,” James replied. “Truth is, I’m learnin’ all kinds of things, good things, on this search. Rob might be a l’il cuckoo at times, but I’m...I’m startin’ to get to likin’ him a lot.”
Yulia smiled, her eyes glowing as she shared with James how her day went.
“I do not understand something,” she spoke softly as the KIII-TV Channel 3 5:00 PM newscast played on the living room’s big screen. “When I was on the bus after shopping at the La Palmera Mall today, I heard some teenaged children...well, they were using words I could not translate in my mind. One of those phrases was…’double dumbass on you.’ I found that to be a rather...colorful metaphor. They were playing this song very loudly too...listen.”
Yulia pulled her Samsung phone out and played the most recent video clip she took of the teenagers in question. They were seen sporting mohawks, leather biker’s attire, and blaring a song from a 1980s-era “ghetto blaster” boombox that sounded like this...
”Just where is our future, the things we done and said!
Let’s just push the button, we’d be better off dead!
‘Cause I hate you!
And I berate you!
And I can’t wait to get to you!”
“They did this too after I politely asked them to turn the volume down,” she said, pointing out the part where the lead punk flipped her off.
”The sins of all our fathers, being dumped on us -- the sons.
The only choice we’re given is how many megatons?!
And I eschew you!
And I say, SCREW YOU!!!
And I hope you’re blue, too.
We’re all bloody worthless, just greedy human scum
The numbers all add up to a negative sum…”
James couldn’t help but shake his head in bemusement. He had seen Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home plenty of times in his life to know what the punks were doing. The “punk on the bus” scene was one of his favorites growing up.
“That movie, the one with the whales...they wanna emulate what they see,” he said. “Sadly, that’s the way most kids talk nowadays. Thing is, nobody pays any attention to ya unless you swear every other word.”
“Teenagers should never swear,” Yulia responded with a deep sigh.
“Yeah...but I think, in this climate, as observers we should just keep our mouths shut and let the parents deal with ‘em,” James intoned, reminding himself of his own experiences as a child. “I wasn’t perfect either. I said a few of them colorful metaphors myself as a kid--usually when I accidentally spilled somethin’ durin’ lunch. It ain’t somethin’ I’m proud of, but...I learned ‘em from my dad.”
Yulia raised her left brow in curiosity.
“You!?! Swearing?!,” she giggled. “What happened, hrmmm…?”
“I was in third grade,” James spoke sheepishly as he closed his eyes. “Right in the middle of lunchtime…”
---
Third grade. Nineteen-ninety, the end of a decade and beginnin’ of another.
While the years might have changed, some things remained the same.
I was still goin’ to Farine, I was with at least four of my original friends from kindergarten includin’ the always-smilin’ Mary Sue, and...well, I was still havin’ a blast durin’ these wonder years. The Tigger backpack, however, was long gone--replaced by an image of the four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles standin’ proudly together as a team. By this time, Turtlemania had run wild all over the world, and it showed via lunch boxes, toys, even video games!
Who knew that the very tape I watched with my brother only two years prior would feature a series that would become more popular than the Transformers!?!
Not everything was, like, totally radical. Oh...you could say I was--and perhaps, still am--accident prone. I don’t remember what joke I told my friends on Friday in October in the cafetorium--ya know, that place which served as both a cafeteria and an auditorium for school assemblies--but all I could remember was...
“AAHHH!!!”
Mary Sue’s squeal of laughter must’ve scared the dickens outta me, ‘cuz the next thing I knew my tray went flyin’ high into the air! All I would see were the remains of what was my burger and tater tots silhouetted against the lights in the cafeteria before they vanished without a trace!
Yet amidst the cacophony of gleeful snickers and laughter from the other kids in the lunchroom, somethin’ blurted from my lips...
“Ohhhhhhhhh….fffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge…!!!”
...and no, I didn’t say ‘fudge.’
I couldn’t help but borrow from L’il Ralphie here, for all I remember was that I said THE word, The Big One, The Queen Mother of Dirty Words, the F-dash-dash-dash word! Suddenly, the whole joint got eerily quiet and subdued, like a funeral at that, as Mrs. Robinson--a vice-principal who served as Farine’s chief disciplinarian--gave me the dirtiest, most unsympathetic look any kid can get.
“What did you just say!?!”
Hoo-boy, that voice--that authoritative, dictatorial voice from Bradford, England--it reminded me of one of those nanny-types that went around and impressed ‘you naughty little boy!’ into your collective consciousness over and over again! Here I was, standin’ in the middle of a purgatory of dirty looks and stoic faces as she looked down upon my poor l’il frame, my lips unable to render any answer to her question.
“That’s...what I thought you said. Am I right...you naughty boy?!”
All I could do was nod sheepishly, listenin’ to the chuckles from some of the others in the cafetorium who knew I was in some serious trouble. She cleared her throat as she turned around towards the exit.
“Follow me, young lad. We are going to my office…”
With that, my life as I knew it was all over, and I was gonna die. What was it gonna be, hangin’, the rack, the chair, decapitation, the Toasty treatment?! Heh...those were only mere child’s play compared to what surely awaited me. As I slowly trudged out of the lunchroom and into my certain demise, I could’ve sworn I heard the sound of Chopin’s funeral dirge playin’ in the background…
...or maybe it was ‘Taps’...
...or perhaps, it was a certain Simon and Garfunkel tune…
“Come along, we haven’t all day!”
With as much dignity as I could muster, I closed my eyes and continued the walk of shame, still listenin’ to whatever was playin’ in my eight-year-old brain...
“And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey…”
To be continued…
Well howdy there pardner.