Beam Me Up

What would I do if teleportation was possible? Well, I’d buy myself a cake. A full blown sheet cake. And upon this cake, I would write: “I’m ’bout to bring the pain!” That’s why I’ll get a sheet cake…so I can fit all that on there.

I already know where I’d beam myself first; however, prior to launch, I would have to dress appropriately so as not to be identified as a genius from the future times with a devious agenda and appetite for destruction. Parachute pants, leg warmers, an Olivia Newton John leotard with matching braided headband and some jelly shoes. Then I would tease my hair into the stratosphere and make it stay that way with two cases of double maximum power to the square root of 76.Aqua Net.

This ain’t no Jeopardy question. I’ll tell you the answer straight out. 1985. Roughly around the end of May, beginning of June. Around the time most schools release the savages for the summer. I’d have to do some sleuthing before I began Mission Bring the Pain. (I know this is a long name, but I’m not bogged down with walkie-talkies and teams and whatnot.) This sleuthing would be for the sole purpose of obtaining the physical address, location and coordinates of one Brian Mullins. A.K.A. He Who Will Feel the Pain.

There’s a reason I won’t let my kid ride the school bus. Because I know the type of junk that goes down on the bus. I was one of those kids who sat in the very back. The VERY back. It wasn’t always thus. I had to earn my place just like one of the guys. Took all of 6th grade to accomplish this. By 7th grade, I was one of THEM. We were drawn together for one purpose only. The ancient art of Pencil Fighting (insert karate chop sound effect).

Not just your run-of-the-mill pencil fighting, either. This was EXTREME pencil fighting. And there were rules. Rules that were obeyed and adhered to like a Baptist to the Bible.

1) Two challengers face off, each armed with a regulation wooden pencil taken from a factory-sealed pack.

2) The only recognized regulation competition pencil is the Dixon/Ticonderoga #2 yellow – graphite core, cedar shaft, latex eraser with aluminum stay.

3) The pencil may not be sharpened or altered in any way prior to initial combat.

4) A Pink Pearl Eraser flip determines which fighter strikes first.

5) The loser of the eraser flip becomes the “Defender” and holds his or her pencil firmly with both hands in a horizontal position.

6) The winner of the eraser flip becomes the “Striker”, and then brings his pencil down in a vertical strike across the opponent’s pencil with full force, attempting to break it in two.

7) If the Defender’s pencil does not break from the Striker’s attempt, then it becomes the Defender’s turn to strike.

This repeats until one player’s pencil breaks in two and cannot continue.

8) If a pencil is cracked, but not fully broken in two, referee determines whether said pencil can continue.

9) If both pencils break during a strike, victory goes to the striker.

As with anything associated with rules, there are fouls. With pencil fighting, the top shelf foul is “whiffing”. This is when your opponent completely misses your pencil. Brian Mullins was a Whiffer. He was the king of Whiffers. If he had kids, they’d be Whifflets.

So on a hot summer day in 1985, Brian Mullins became a permanent part of my very being. Several eye witnesses sided with Brian and claimed the bus had hit a pothole, causing him to bounce up during mid-swing, resulting in the Whiff. MY side of the bus clearly saw a rabid 8th grader who just couldn’t handle being trumped by a girl…aggressively attacking his winning opponent with an illegally sharpened combat instrument. The cause of the Whiff is irrelevant. What IS relevant is that 25 years later, I still have Ticonderoga #2 pencil lead in my knee.

So what would I do after tracking down Brian Mullins? The only fair thing there is to do. Stab him repeatedly in the face and eyeball with a handful of sharp Ticonderoga Kindergarten pencils. Then I’d teleport my butt right back to here and now, leaving him scarred and sucking his thumb.

Screw you, Brian Mullins. Screw you.