Sophomore year was intense. And by intense, I mean incredibly stupid. I fought more people and did more damage to my body than most people would do in a mosh pit. That was simply how I lived: one less care at a time. This didn't only effect my lifestyle though. It completely effected every aspect of my life, including school. I dont know what it was but for some reason, I never made it to my first hour on time. Actually, it wasn't just some reason, it was because I just didn't give a shit. First hour was always a seminar for me anyway and usually that was totally on purpose. I knew my tendencies. I knew my drive. And both of those added together meant that this guy was not going to be to school at 8 am. Oh no no no, this guy, this guy was coming in at 9 at the very earliest.
I walked into the computer lab typically late. Michigan had mustered up the awesomeness to produce another shitty day and I wasn't even trying to be at school. I was trying to be in my bed. Or shit, just at home would have beaten getting up to go play on computers. But that was my semester and even though I didn't want admit it, this credit mattered and I had to be there. My teacher hadn't gotten used to this though. My total disinterest in punctuality hadn't taught him that he should let me do what ever the fuck I want to but instead, made him into a little bitch.
"You're late... again".
"Yeah, I know."
"What'd I tell you last week?"
"Um, I dont know. I dont really give a shit."
"Fine, well your more than 30 minutes late so go down to the office."
"Fuck that."
"Excuse me? Oprea will definitely like to hear you say that."
"Well fuck you and fuck Mr. Oprea. He's a faggot."
I sat down in the back row and logged onto the computer. I didn't see anything wrong with what I just said. This class was bullshit and I wasn't getting graded and there was no necessity for me to be there ON TIME for a class that I'm just going to sit in until the bell rang. I guess this wasn't the situation though. Behind me, I noticed my teacher on the phone. I couldn't hear what he was saying but he was starring at me so I had a hunch. 5 minutes later, a note came up from the office. Notes from office generally were not good news. You could always tell by the office ladies handwriting if it was pissy or urgently pissy. This note had an A.S.A.P on it so I knew what was happening. I glared at my teacher as I walked passed him like it was his fault. At the time, I thought it was.
I got down to the office and Oprea was sitting at his desk eating his breakfast. He was a goofy looking man. Big bulbous eyes hiding behind wire thin glasses and hair that would make snow jealous. He tended to be a jolly fucker though. At least with me. I never understood it but he really liked me. I think it had to do with the first time he had to deal with me. Freshman year, my good friend wore a trench coat to school that he found in my closet. Just a trench coat and shorts to make it look like he was naked. It was funny as hell. But without my knowledge, he had also brought a dog toy with him that looked extremely similar to a dildo and apparently, he was poking people with it. Because he was living with me, I got called down to the office to explain the dildo and put it away until the end of school. I, of course, did not do that and gave the toy back to my friend. And then, of course, he got caught again with it... Yeah, Mr. Oprea didn't like that much. He threatened me with expulsion and some other crazy shit and I just had to let him know that he was being way to serious with me. From that day on, he liked me. Dont ask me why...
"Sit down"
"Alright, uh whats going on?"
" Well, Swinehart just called me and told me that you had something you wanted to say to me?"
" Hm... no. No, I dont know what he's talking about."
He looked down at his messy school lunch tray and took another bite.
" He said you showed up late for the 14th time today and instead of apologizing or anything, you cursed at him and then called me faggot."
We then had a long discussion about my actions. It lasted long enough for him to talk through his salad at me about my choices and my bad habits and what he might be forced to do and his grand kids and his yard work and bla. But he was a good man and I knew that. So after a few lecturing minutes, I gave in and apologized for what I said.
"I'm sorry okay. I didn't mean to say that about you but its early and I get cranky and I haven't eaten and just, yeah. I'm sorry."
He took his last bite and began laughing uncontrollably. For a second I thought he was either going to choke or spit his food out onto his plate, but he grabbed a napkin and held it to his lips.
" You know, I've been called alot of things in my life, Tim. But never... "
He began laughing again.
"...Never, have I been called a faggot."
I'm glad he got a kick out of it. Definitely helped when I went back up to my classroom and told my teacher to go fuck himself.
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