To hell with you, John

I went to school with this boy name John Lassiter, and by God was he a nerd.  He was so nerdy he made Urkel look like the Fonz.  A real 80's nerd whose entire life revolved around science.  I'm talking red alarm nerd alert on the big geekometer.  He was more or less left alone until the boys started hitting puberty.  Once that happened, all misdirected hormonal rage was directed toward one hapless John Lassiter.  One instance where I was semi-involved is as follows.




4th Grade/Spring Time/Lunch Time:  Myself, my friend Ryan, and my (generally speaking) friend Tim among others were eating in the cafeteria at the same table as John.   Tim was a red-faced chubby boy, with a shit-eating grin you could see all the way from Texas. I'm not sure how it all began, except perhaps for some just general teasing.  Tim had recounted to all present at the table a story where he and his dad spotted their neighbor John riding a bicycle near an intersection while they rode in their car.   John was completely decked out in a helmet, pads, the whole nine.  While making a turn on his bike, John raised his hand to signal his intended direction, to which Tim's dad remarked, "Put your hand down, you asshole."  This of course was met with justifiably uproarious laughter from the table.


When the lunchroom broke for recess, Tim followed John outside and continued to torment him.  Ryan and I weren't far behind them, not so much participating as we were laughing at the spectacle.  At one point, Ryan and I broke away while Tim continued to follow John in the distance.  I can't remember all what Tim was saying, but suffice it to say it wasn't very nice.


Following recess I headed back to class, and who was there but John Lasstier's mom, deep in conversation with our teacher.  I sat down, confused and a little concerned.  Tim walked through the classroom door out of breath, between John's mom and our teacher, and without looking at either as them threw his arms in protest and declared, "I wasn't calling John Lassiter names."  John's mom immediately grabbed Tim by the hair and shrieked, "You little jerk!," and pulled him into the hallway.  Our teacher followed behind with a panicked look on her face.  The whole class sat in silent disbelief.  One wide-eyed girl eventually piped up, "She has no right to do that!"   I can't remember what exactly happened after that, but our mortified teacher eventually returned, and we didn't see Tim (or John's mom) for the rest of the day.


When Tim returned to school the next day, we were dying to know what the fuck happened out there.  Tim told me the following, which was verified by a class who happened to passing on their way to gym class (or something):


- She cursed at him

- She slammed his head repeatedly against a locker

- She slapped him in the face twice, to which Tim replied each time "Ahhhh, that feels good."


What's funny about the whole incident is that it was swept quietly under the rug.  That's how we rolled in the 1980s - no fuss, no muss, kid gets his ass beat by another kid's mom and ya move on.  No one really wanted to talk about how serious it was, just how funny it was.  The school seemed willing to let it slide, probably because Tim was such a little bastard.  Tim's parents probably figured he had it coming.   There was no equal and opposite reaction to this action.  I heard via my mom that Mrs. Lassiter's husband did not condone these actions and was embarrassed beyond belief.   That's about all I can give you.  4th grade was pretty awesome.


I almost forgot - the title of this entry.  A couple years later, John was trying to play football with his square friends at recess.  People kept interfering in their game to be obnoxious, and he uncharacteristically shouted "To hell with it!"  So the other boys started saying "To hell with you, John!" at him.  Poor John.