Once More, For the Cheap Seats

Blubbo thought that he could jerk off one more time before Thanksgiving dinner started and with care, he hovered at the top of the stairs, listening to who had already arrived.

As it was, Blubbo spent the majority of time in his room.  Small and directly across the hall from his parents bedroom, Blubbo had created for himself a space which gave him little reason to ever leave.  His walls were covered with a variety of shopping bags: Abercrombie and Fitch, American Eagle and Aeropostal, proving that he was hip to the latest fashion trends, in the even that he ever had a visitor.  The room smelled of Safari Cologne.

“Everyone has their own deodorant/cologne,” Dan Ladd explained to Blubbo one day.  “I wear Polo Sport, Keith wears Polo Original, Tim wears Nautica, Jon wears Chaps, Steve wears Tommy, Jake wears Cool Water, Andy wears Drakkar and Joel wears Hugo Boss.”

“What about Billy Ahearn?” Blubbo asked.

“Who knows, he probably buys his deorandant at CVS or something.”

“I like Polo Sport.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I wear Polo Sport and you don’t want to be a poser.”

Blubbo met his mom at the Filenes register.

“I’m gonna get Safari.” Blubbo told his mom, handing her the $50 set of deordant, cologne and aftershave.

“Eww, Jay, this stuff smells awful, why don’t you buy the Polo Sport, I like the way that one,” Blubbo’s mom replied.

“Mom!  You don’t understand anything!  You can’t copy someone else’s cologne!  You’re so stupid.”

Blubbo sprayed the Safari several times about the room before leaving for school each morning in the event that he ever had a visitor.  On the wall in the corner next to his E-Machine, Blubbo had made a large collage of Cameron Diaz, his long-time crush.  Next to that hung his hand drawn Warcraft maps and next to that, a Tom Cruise collage.

After lingering at the top of the stairs for several moments, Blubbo determined the coast was clear and immediately sprung into action.  Shutting his bedroom door behind him, Blubbo dashed towards his bed, stubbing his toe on a Super Tennis cartridge.  Blubbo flipped over his mattress to reveal a collection of stolen magazines from the mail which included one copy of Fredericks of Hollywood and three copies of Talbots.  Removing his clothes, Blubbo flipped all four magazines to their dogeared pages and spread them across the floor so they surrounded him as he sat Indian style in the middle of the floor.  In no time, Blubbo was working himself over as he assumed the doggystle position for practice.

“You can put your coats in Jay’s room,” Blubbo’s mom said as she knocked on his door.  “Jay are you in here?”

“Uhh, I’m changing Mom don’t come in.”

“OK, we’ll wait.”

Blubbo put his clothes back on and tucked the magazines under his shirt and opened the door.

“Hello Jay, why are you all sweaty?”  Blubbo’s grandfather asked.

“Umm, I was doing some crunches.”

“Well that’s probably a good idea.  How many can you do?”

“I dunno, a bunch.”

“Well let’s see them, you know your grandfather used to give the PT tests in the Army.  Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to be a soldier.”

“Well I’d rather not, I just did bunch, and…”

“Aww c’mon, you’re a young lad, I bet you can show me something, let’s see how many you can do in a minute.”

“I’d really rather not…”

“Jay, don’t be rude to your grandfather.”

Blubbo lied on his back.

“Ready, GO!”

Blubbo managed 15 crunches in a minute before collapsing on the floor with exhaustion.

“Atta boy, keep practicing,” Blubbo’s granfather said, playfully pretending to punch him in the stomach.

“He what’s this?”

“Nothing!  It’s nothing!”

Blubbo tried to conceal the abused magazines and frantically turned away and by doing so flung the magazines out of his waistband, hitting his mom in the face as she came in with more guests with coats.

“Oh there are my magazines,” Blubbo’s mom exclaimed as she opened them automatically to the dogeared pages.  “Jay, why Tom Cruise’s face glued on to one of the models?”

Wild Horses

Blubbo tried to fart but shit his pants.

“And over here, are the stables,” a colonially dressed women with a name tag said.

“Oh my God, it smells disgusting,” Rachel Walker exclaimed.

“Well we actually keep horses here,” the colonial women responded.

Blubbo looked for an escape route. It would not be long before his group would be far from the stables, the smell of feces still lingering. Just as the group turned to notice a cantering pony, Blubbo made for a faux blacksmith on the other side of trail and went inside. Relieved to find it empty, he ducked the counter and removed his soiled drawers. While searching for a place to hide his misdeeds, Blubbo noticed a key hanging underneath the counter with the words “breakroom” written across it.

“Hey there,” Amy Featherston said, sneaking up on Blubbo, grabbing his shoulders as he was trying to determine which direction his group had gone.

“Hi!” Blubbo squeaked, surprised by the friendly contact.

“Where are you off to all by yourself?”

“Umm. . . I was looking for you?” Blubbo said, again surprised, but this time by his suave answer.

“Well you found me.” Amy Featherston smiled.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of the group?”

“I ditched, this field trip sucks.”

“Yeah, pretty shitty.”

“I know, I wish there was some place to go. It smells out here.”

“Well. . .” Blubbo said, showing her the key, heart racing.

“Jay this is awesome!” Amy Featherston said flopping down on one of the many couches.

Blubbo smiled at hearing his real name and sat next down next to her, resisting the temptation to open the bag of Doritos on the coffee table. The breakroom was large. There were several TVs, a ping-pong table and a refrigerator. The air conditioner hummed and they both opened a Dr. Pepper.

“So how do you like Greenfield Middle School?”

“Uhh, it’s ok, I guess.”

“The kids here are so lame.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You shouldn’t let everyone pick on you so much.”

“Well, I can’t really stop them.”

“Well maybe if you just started hanging out with the right people, you wouldn’t be such an easy target. If you are alone, it’s easier to attack you.”

“Just like Warcraft!”

“What’s Warcraft?”

“Nevermind,” Blubbo said, noticing for the first time how close they were. “So who are these people then?”

“Me of course!”

“You want to hang out with me?”

“Why not! You’re so funny. That time you came to school with that wicked ugly Nautica shirt on, that was hilarious.”

“Haa. . . I’m glad you noticed.”

After a small silence, Amy Featherson spoke again.

“So are you going with anybody to the dance?”

“Huh. What dance?”

“Hehehe, you are funny. So are you going with anybody or not?”

“Well, I haven’t asked anyone yet. . .”

“Great! You want to go with me?”

“What – really? Yeah, I mean yes, of course, I’d love to.”

Amy Featherston smiled and Blubbo smiled back and without thought and without warning they kissed. When they finally pulled away Amy Featherston was still smiling and leaned over.

“Do you smell that? I think you might have stepped in some horse manure.”

The Slip

Blubbo still wore white cotton briefs. This made it especially challenging to change for gym without being ridiculed. As a solution, Blubbo would arrive to gym late so that he would not be seen by the other boys in his grade. One day, while folding his South Pole jeans, Blubbo overheard hushed voices coming from the hallway. Intrigued, Blubbo crept slowly to the doorway. In the hallway were two gruff gentlemen in Canadian tuxedos carrying two school laptops and three flat panel monitors. The skinnier of the men reached for the hallway window, unlatched it and began to climb out.

“Hey grab him!” the skinnier man shouted, catching Blubbo’s reflection in the monitor.

The larger of the men quickly set down the computers and sprinted after Blubbo into the locker room. Blubbo turned to run but slipped on the tile floor. The man tried to grab Blubbo’s ankle, but his hand slipped from the urine covering Blubbo’s leg. Blubbo chugged through the locker room and burst into the gym as attendance was being taken.

“Mr. Hochrein, Mr. Hochrein.” Blubbo panted. “There – two guys – stealing computers – hallway – in the hallway – one tried to grab me – call the police.” Blubbo continued, arms wrapped around Mr. Hochrein’s large waist.

“Will you let go of me LeBeau!” Mr. Hochrein bellowed.

“All set Bruce,” a man in a jean jacket shouted from the other end of the gym.

“Thanks Steve,” Mr. Hochrein responded. “See you tonight for some poker.”

“I’ll be there. And thanks for these broken computers, my son just loves taking these things apart.”

Mr. Hochrein turned to Blubbo. “I think were done here. Now get yourself cleaned up, and for Christ’s sake LeBeau, put some shorts on!”

Blubbo could still hear the laughter as he slowly put on his shorts and made his way back out for the beginning class.

Heads Up

Every day after school Blubbo would eat a bagel and a bag of popcorn and watch Hey Dude. After Hey Dude at three, came Rocko’s Modern Life then Rugrats. Usually after not eating his dinner, Blubbo retreated to his room and played video games. He was partial to Duke Nukem 3D and Warcraft II: The Tides of Darkness, but also enjoyed WaveRace for N64. One evening while engrossed in a set of time trials at Sunset Bay, Blubbo was interrupted with a knock at his bedroom door.

“Can I come in,” Blubbo’s mom said.

“I’m busy Mom, what?”

“Don’t you think you should be outside? It’s Saturday and it’s still light out. Where are your classmates?”

“At some stupid football game.”

“Well I think you should go.”

“I’m kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Well I’m sure your hovercraft game will be here when you get back.”

“It’s called WaveRace mom! And they’re not hovercrafts, they’re jet skis. You don’t even know me.”

Reluctantly, Blubbo convinced himself to attend the football game. Only a short walk to the field, Blubbo shuffled to the gate and walked inside. Much to Blubbo’s surprise, the atmosphere buzzed with intensity and what appeared to be, fun. Laughter, shenanigans, applause and the various smells of the fall were quite a departure from the linear world of video games. Thinking perhaps he made the right decision, Blubbo walked slightly taller and made his way for the snack stand.

“Oh my God I’m sorry!” Amy Featherston said, trying to minimize the damage.

“It’s ok.” Blubbo said as hot chocolate dripped from his chin.

“Here let me get that,” she said wiping Blubbo’s face with a napkin.

“Thanks.” Blubbo said nervously.

“The least I could do.” Amy Featherston said smiling. “Are you here with anybody?”

“Umm, no, I just got here.”

“Oh well maybe you should come sit with. . .”

“Amy!” Emily Berlin interrupted. “Come on were going to Tim’s house.”
“Well maybe next time.” Amy Featherston said.

“Sounds chipper.” Blubbo said immediately regretting his choice of words. But as she turned, Blubbo noticed the smile on her face before looking back one last time.

The Morning Air

Blubbo went to Filene’s Basement to buy some new clothes. The morning air was starting to get cold and Blubbo knew that his days of Champion mesh shorts and Reebok t-shirts were numbered. Based on his observations over the past several weeks, it was clear that Blubbo’s fashion sense was far behind that of his peers.

“Oh cool jeans,” a cute girl said to Keith Rinaldi.

Keith Rinaldi said nothing back but smiled. In gym glass later that day, Blubbo rummaged through Keith Rinaldi’s locker.

“Boss,” Blubbo said to himself, sniffing the jeans to know what cool smelled like.

Blubbo’s reflection revealed a bright red Nautica shirt, with the sailboat emblem embroidered across the whole of the front. Blubbo picked out a pair of black Boss jeans with “Boss” written vertically down the length of the leg and again across the back pockets. Blubbo nodded with approval and began to model pose in front of the mirror.

“Oh I’m sorry!” the sales woman shrieked opening the door for a customer as Blubbo was revealing his midriff within one hand and air gunning with the other.

The next day Blubbo got up early and ironed his jeans. Timing his entrance so that he would be slightly late to homeroom, Bubbo swaggered through the door.

“Nice shirt,” cackled Rachel Walker.

“Look at the way he walks,” chimed Sarah Lauriat, “He thinks he’s one of the guys!”

“Filene’s Basement!” Amanda Bai laughed, noticing the sticker on the back of Blubbo’s jeans.

Blubbo sat down at his desk and back to his drawing board, but didn’t notice the girl staring at him from behind.

Step By Step

One day, Blubbo stopped at McDonald’s on his way home from school to get a Big Mac. As he was ordering, he heard Tyler Brougham call his name.

“Hey Blubbo, I don’t think you need any more Big Macs,” Tyler Brougham said.

“Your mom is all the Big Mac you need,” said another one of associates, whose name Blubbo did not know.

Not wishing to engage Tyler Brougham and his friends, Blubbo made for the door. It was then that Tyler Brougham grabbed Blubbo’s duffel bag and ran towards the McDonald’s Play Place. Blubbo chased after him and in doing so, dropped his Big Mac on the floor.

“Don’t forget to take your shoes off,” Tyler Brougham laughed, emerging from the Play Place sans Blubbo’s bag.

Once Tyler Brougham and his friends had left, Blubbo took his shoes off and entered the jungle of tubes and slides. The inside smelled like French fries and plastic and the openings were barely big enough for Blubbo’s frame. His search finally lead him to the ball-pit where he saw his bag, partially buried beneath the multi-colored spheres. Exiting the ball-pit, bag in hand, Blubbo felt something squish deep into his sock and, looking down, saw that he had stepped in a sizable pile of human feces.

No sooner than when Blubbo had realized this, he heard Tyler Brougham and his cronies laugh from the other side of the Play Place.

“Have a nice walk home,” Tyler Brougham cackled as he rode away on his Redline with Blubbo’s shoes.

Blubbo walked with a shitty bare foot and a sunken head for some time until he heard his name. Looking up, he was hit square in the face with with a Big Mac by three boys passing by on their final victory lap.

The Fog of War

One day in Science class, Blubbo was asked the difference between poor metals and non-metals. As he was about to answer, the fire alarm sounded and everyone filed outside. Halfway out the door, Blubbo realized that he left one of his Warcraft II campaign maps in plain site atop his desk. The past two weeks have been especially challenging for Blubbo. To confront the Orc stronghold in the east, it was imperative that the the Human’s regain control of the ocean side city of Stormwind. This proved to be difficult because the surrounding area lacked the natural resources needed to fund a full scale campaign. A lone oil refinery was located just off the coast, but unfortunately, it was controlled by Orc navy. In order to launch a full scale attack upon Stormwind, Blubbo would first need to seize the oil refinery. Then, timed perfectly, Blubbo would send an armada of battleships to engage the harbor which lied to the north of Stormwind. Once the harbor was neutralized, Blubbo would send in several transport ships containing knights, paladins, foot soldiers, archers and a small faction of peasants who were to construct a barracks upon arrival. Once situated, Blubbo himself would make the journey inland and lead the troops to victory.

Wishing to save himself from potential embarrassment, Blubbo turned to go back inside, but was stopped by the vice principle.

“Fire drill!” Mr. Task barked at him, “Everyone has to leave the building.”

Blubbo was forced out of the building and immediately began to sweat in the October sun. After what seemed like hours standing by himself, Blubbo was the first back inside. Farting as he ran, Blubbo was completely out of breath when he slammed right into the fireman exiting his classroom.

“You OK kid?” the fireman said, picking Blubbo up off the floor.

“I’m fine,” Blubbo said rather shortly. “Who’s else is in there?” he said, struggling to see over him.

“Just me,” the fireman said with a kind tone. “Never seen a kid so happy to get back to school. Wasn’t my favorite place, that’s for sure. Got picked on quite a bit.

Blubbo said nothing.

“Well, have fun kid, don’t study to hard,” the fireman said with a wink as he walked towards the stairs.

Not saying goodbye, Blubbo rushed to his desk. Relieved, he began to put away his campaign map when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large uncircumcised cock drawn at the top of the page with the word “Fag” written beneath it.

Tables Up

Blubbo bought a Semisonic CD and took it to school to listen to at lunch. Music was a close second to Blubbo next to playing Duke Nukem 3D with the lights off. Though he was not cool enough to listen to Rage Against the Machine or Smashing Pumpkins at the time, Blubbo always took a liking to music and every so often he bought a CD.

It was beefy dunkers day and Blubbo got double lunch and sat at the far end of a table alone. Despite his attempts for solitude, a group of girls sat down at the other end of the table. They were not as pretty as the popular girls, but still maintained that they were. One of the girls got her period in Spanish class and everyone called her El Bloody Crow. Another stuffed her bra with tissues. And another got a hot dog stuck in her vagina. Despite these shortcomings, they frequently associated with the better and more attractive females.

“They’re not any better than me,” Blubbo said to himself as the girls began to construct a dividing wall of backpacks a few feet away. Blubbo dug into his beefy dunkers and the girls laughed at him.

“Look at him eat!” El Bloody Crow squawked as Hot Dogs and Tissues laughed.

Blubbo took out his Discman and played the opening track called “Closing Time” and opened both of his chocolate milks. As the music cooed in his ears, Blubbo felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Though a reasonable assumption, it was not the smooth alternative stylings of Semisonic that perked Blubbo up, but rather it was the presence of the prettiest girl in school, Amy Featherston.

On her way to the cool table, Amy Featherson had stopped by to ask Tissues for some lip gloss. Blubbo watched as she applied her Lip Smackers Berry Cherry and he began to make out with his lunch. He ate passionately, slowly, thoroughly and then Frenched his pudding. Lost in a new life, Blubbo ate and listened, while the girls looked on and plotted and schemed.

Attention Starved

The time was 11:35 and Blubbo had a turbo boner in his social studies class. Mr. Roberts rides his bike to school because he got two DUI’s in a row. This isn’t what was giving Blubbo a boner, but it was a random thought he had as he tried to get his hard-on to reduce itself in time for lunch. Blubbo only had ten more minutes left to accomplish this feat, but the girl in front of him had a whale tale and it enticed him because he had no experience with girls.

“Baseball cards and the dimensions of an Adirondack chair in centimeters,” Blubbo thought to himself. Still nothing. The thought of ERA’s and knotty pine seemed to stimulate him further, pushing his pleasure into an uncomfortable throbbing. At that moment, Steven Hoffman leaned over from the adjacent chair.

“Hey, you should really do something about that mustache,” Steven Hoffman whispered.

Perplexed, Blubbo looked back at Steven Hoffman as if to confirm his statement. Steven Hoffman nodded, reading Blubbo’s mind.

It had not yet occurred to Blubbo that he had never shaved. Surveying his lip with his hand, Blubbo was surprised at the accuracy of Steven Hoffman’s statement, despite not being able to see his newly discovered cookie duster. This got Blubbo thinking about his overall appearance. At present, he wore thin Nike gym shorts with no pockets and Champion t-shirt. His hair, a befuddled nest that parted in the middle, fell short of the “look” he strove for.

“I like that,” Blubbo explained to the hair dresser at Hair By Phase 1. The model in the picture was shown gazing up with a tilted head. His hair parted effortlessly down the middle, not to greasy, nor puffy. Several strands fell over the model’s eyes and Blubbo instinctively pulled at his bangs as to somehow lengthen them.

“Ok all done!” the hair dresser said sounding pleased. Blubbo looked at his reflection and saw not the flowing locks of the model featured in the catalog, but rather a cropped bowl cut, heavily gelled with strawberry highlights.

Blubbo pulled at his bangs as Mr. Roberts continued to teach.

“Tomorrow,” he thought, “I’m going to buy some new clothes and reinvent myself. I’m gonna get some cool clothes and a better haircut and make some friends and get a girlfriend – things are gonna change – I know it!”

At that moment, the class bell rang and an excited Blubbo was the first to jump up from his seat.

“Oh my God!” Steven Hoffman yelled, “Look at Blubbo’s huge boner!”

A Foot in the Water

Blubbo has bitch-tits and a bowl cut and it was his first day of 7th grade. Coming from a Catholic school, Blubbo was unaware of the differences between Holy Trinity Elementary and Greenfield Public Middle. This was perhaps best illustrated by his choice of first day attire: a B.U.M. Equipment shirt, black jean shorts, large Reebok high-tops.

“Kids like basketball,” Blubbo thought to himself while shopping at the mall with his mom two weeks prior. “Maybe, I should buy these,” he said, holding up a pair of discounted Shawn Kemp’s. “The Reebok Aftershock’s,” he read aloud as their metallic siding shimmered under the florescent lights.

Unlaced, the Aftershocks nearly came off of Blubbo’s feet as he ascended the GMS stairs. He reached for the door and opened it.

Inside swam with CK Be cologne and muddled conversation. Going largely unnoticed, Blubbo made his way through the teenage forest, having to take frequent detours around the various thicket. The 1992 Volvo duffel bag, which Blubbo used as a backpack, made it difficult to avoid the oncoming traffic and as a result drew attention from one of the passing teachers.

“Do you need some help?” Mrs. Myrick asked.

“I was looking for my homeroom,” Blubbo responded hesitantly.

“Well, where is your registration form?” Mrs. Myrick asked with air of impatience.

“Oh right,” Blubbo thought to himself as he began to dig through his duffel. The contents of the bag were eclectic at best. Always on the lazy side, the Volvo bag became somewhat of a catch-all for Blubbo throughout the years. He pawed through some 3rd grade drawings, a matchbox car, Game Genie codes written on yellow paper, and a package of Pop-Tarts that he brought for a snack, until eventually he found the missing registration form. Excitedly, he extracted the red index card only to find a pair shit stained tighty-whiteys clinging visibly to the corner of the form. Blubbo immediately recalled two summers ago, how, immersed in a Warcraft campaign, he held it for too long and did not make it to the bathroom two flights below.

Luckily for Blubbo, Mrs. Myrick left moments before to accost a young student attempting a heel-flip in the hall. Quickly shoving the soiled drawers back into the depths of the duffel, Blubbo descended the stairs to his basement homeroom, chest bouncing beneath his extra large shirt.

Feeling a tad safer within the confines of his homeroom, Blubbo put his bag down and relaxed. As he was the only one in the classroom, Blubbo felt this would be the best opportunity to relieve himself of a deep testicle itch. Wishing to avoid another embarrassing close call, Blubbo carefully surveyed the doorway from which he came. Sensing a window, Blubbo stood up and placed one foot upon his desk and dug in. Suddenly, an unnoticed rear door burst open, and several students rushed in. Startled, Blubbo tried to sit back in his seat, but misjudged his position and collapsed to the floor. The present students spit acid laughter in Blubbo’s direction as he attempted to collect himself. Figuring he would minimize the damage by returning to his seat quickly, Blubbo scrambled to his hands and knees and pushed up from the floor, but met resistance when he drove his face right between the legs of his homeroom teacher who had rushed to his aid. The force of Blubbo’s face knocked Mrs. Allen down to the floor. Attempting to stabilize the collision, Blubbo stood up, but tripped over the Volvo duffel and again drove his forehead, deep into the crotch Mrs. Allen who was now sprawled on the homeroom floor.

“Jay! You have to be more careful! Now what are you doing here? This isn’t even your homeroom.” Mrs. Allen said.

“Sorry Mom,” Blubbo murmured as he walked down out of the classroom and down the hall to room 117.