Some Pinky and the brain and a story that has nothing to do with it.

Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Pinky: I think so brain,, But what if everybody DOES Wang Chung tonight?


Brain: It must be inordinately taxing to be such a boob.
Pinky: You have no idea.Narf

Brain: Pinky, once I take over the world,
remind me to publicly snub you.

I went to a Christian school for over 6 years. Life there was different, we were all family, all the grades from preschool up, looked after one another. I had kissed all the cute upper class boys under the stairwell. My brother had beat up all the cute upper class boys I kissed under the stairwell.

I won a spelling bee one year and even got a cool trophy, there were only two people in the spelling bee so my parents were understandably in awe of my superhuman spelling powers. I had to go against my best friend. We had made a pact with each other that if one misspelled a word the other would misspell the next one. She kept misspelling easy words, I got tired of misspelling C-A-T after her. We finally looked at each other and I thought she gave me the go ahead shrug to win and end the torment on stage (and of wearing a flipping dress and Mary Janes). I spelled the next word correctly and won the Great Evangel Christian School Spelling Bee of 1984. Turns out she was shrugging to say she was sorry, but still wanted to compete. My shrug reading skills have been tarnished ever since. She turned people against me in anger. Including the Sasquatchette of the school who excelled in top of the head punching. I cried for weeks and finally we made up. I think the only reason we really made up is because I smuggled a Thermos full of Bartles and Jaymes wine into school and shared it with her at lunch, proving once again my powers of awesomeness. I still have the trophy stained with the tears of a competition gone wrong. To this day I still misspell Antidisestablishmentarianism, and of course spell check says (no suggestions)-bastards!

There were fights and random stuff, people still got made fun of. Kids are kids no matter how much religion you shove down their throats.

A kid named Trey was a well used target of shenanigans (bowing because my spelling bee champ prowess was just used for your reading pleasure,, I mean really,, who uses the word shenanigans- but a spelling bee champ?). Looking back on some of the stuff Trey did, he was pretty cool. He played guitar and had a certain wit to him. But when you factor in the time the teacher would not let him leave class to go to the restroom, so he peed his pants,, not cool. Scary gross.

We did bad things to Trey, I feel bad about that but I also know he did egg some of it on. One time we covered his desk with a sheet and proclaimed it Mt. Zitzerland (he was a wee bit acneish). How were we to know that he would not be in school that day? His father came in early to get something from his desk even before the teacher was in class, a loving father stood in the doorway and asked us with a smile and wide eyes, "Which desk is Trey's". The room grew silent. Sadly Mt. Zitzerland was deconstructed that day.

One time a boy filled Trey's desk with garbage. Trey did not speak, he promptly took the boy's desk and spilled the contents down the stairs. He then continuously rode the kid's science book down the stairs as if it was a mat and he was on a magical wacky waterslide . We all wanted to experience this stairwell water park ride. This did not go over too well with our Principal. He stood, arms crossed and demanded in his universally known catch phrase: "What is the meaning of this?" Trey took full blame. There were times we really liked him. And then he would do something to backtrack like steal our pizzas and lick our milk cartons or touch my hair....eeep.

Trey had a way of making people angry. He was the first to be negative about others and to start trouble because of this, we always pranked him. One day my brother and some friends stacked about 100 aluminum chairs in a spare classroom. They were stacked 4 to 5 high in a domino fashion. We rigged it so that when the door was opened it would set off the chairs and they would (hopefully) all dramatically collapse. The classroom was on the second floor and we knew it would be very loud. Someone took Trey's lunch (he loved his lunch). And told him it was in the empty classroom. Trey was angered and ran full boar into the room slamming the door open and starting the great aluminum domino chair collapse of '85. It was a thunderously successful prank. We even received prank props from Trey. We knew he would get us back somehow, so we stayed on high alert.

Our teacher was a frail lady with long stringy blond hair and glasses. Her catch phrase was "bury it", meaning bury the laughter and carrying-ons. Trey would always stand up and pretend to shovel the aisles briefly to tick her off, this caught on with the boys in the class. Her cats were her life, we knew all of their back stories and temperaments. One day she came in and told us in dramatic soap opera fashion of a horrendous tragedy that had happened to her favorite Tabby cat the night before. I thought she was going to have a mental break down. We listened silently and intently as she described the details of her cat being forcibly raped by a large bully neighborhood feral cat. I think we were all stunned and confused as to how we should proceed with the morning, except Trey. Trey offered to run DNA samples. Trey offered to counsel the victim Tabby. Trey offered to be a hit man and take out the bully feral cat, for a price, I believe it was a Whatchamacallit candy bar. Trey grew a little more of a fan club that day. The teacher was not a part of it.

The chosen candy of cat hit men

The upper class was allowed to walk over to Wendy's for lunch. There was a fairly busy street to cross but it was a school zone so people went pretty slow. One day we heard screaming, Trey had been hit by a car coming back from Wendy's. The whole school ran out to the street where we saw Trey laying in the middle of the road. The thought of one of our own family, someone that we had grew up around being injured was a lot for us to consider. We held hands. The older kids hugged and carried the younger ones. It was a scene straight off the TV playing out in front of us. But there was a twist.

We all stood motionless, mesmerized and in shock of the accident site. But we were more in shock of something else. It was not because he had been hit by a car. Not because he looked hurt or that there was blood everywhere. Not because the firemen and police were arriving with sirens blaring.

But because,,,, Trey was in the middle of the damn street, laying on his side in a fetal position, blocking two lanes of traffic.... finishing his freaking Cheeseburger. He had been hit by a car but was continuing with his lunch before all the ado about the accident interrupted his burger time. He did not get up until the precious Wendy's Jr. Cheeseburger was fully consumed and his lips were properly and methodically dabbed with a napkin. He then stood up, brushed himself off, grabbed the crushed yellow Wendy's cup that was laying a few feet away, shook it around to assess the level of cold beverage loss age caused by the accident, took a mouth full of ice and walked back to school with a stagger. He was totally uninjured except for one big bruise on his hairy thigh that he showed to us daily.

Trey became a legend that day.... and a really great advertisement for the yumminess of a Wendy's Jr. Cheeseburger.