I'm telling you right NOW I am hardly a poet

However liquid-soap and funky greasy dishes do miraculous things when you're staring at an empty towel rack doing dishes- feeling comeplete disregard for your whole life due to the fact you're enamored by the 1950's- the leather, the hot rods, the diners, the roller skates, the greasy slicked back hair of the boys of that era- and you realize the only men like that are on a certain video game. Then the best character of said description in said video game is taken my a wretched slut and no matter how much you fantasize, he's always going to be with her. Then, you realize how you fail at life for agonizing a character in a video game..

So thats bascally where this story came from :D I hope you enjoy it
Be warned: There is HARSH lanuage and sexual references; please don't read if niave.

"Your assignment today is not to makes words from the usual jumble" Galloway announced

There were whoots, and howls of excitement from most of the students, and low groans from a few others. Those students were the Preppies who, because they were in the loop, knew just what was going to happen and they knew without a shred of doubt how all the students whooping and carrying on were about to be sorely dissappointed. Mindlessly making one-syllable words of random letters was just that much easier than Galloway's announcement.

"Yes." Galloway smiled, he expected this to be a smashing success, a break from the norm, just what they always begged for: "Your assignment for the next three days is to write a poem about the person you love!" Then they all groaned, but Galloway- from his ears of teaching at Bullworth, was able to easily ignore them "It can be anyone, a girlfriend, boyfriend, mother, father, grandparent, brother, sister, cousin, best friend or teacher! Just pick someone, anyone. Write about them in a poetic sense. Unleash your inner Shakespeare!"

More groans as the papers were passed out- general rules to follow, outlines, and some more suggestions of who to write about. The bell rangs and they were dismissed- most students finished their own personal poem by the seocnd day. But, the Greasers were not only the masters of 50's hair, but they were he masters of procrastination and that is exactly what they did. The night before it was due they were sitting aorund in the Tennements smoking, drinking, and joking when Peanut, being the clever fellow he was, spoke up:

"Guys, what abou' Galloway's assignment?" he asked

They all looked over at him and howled with laughter- Ricky was able to calm down his laughter and snort, "Sure Peanut, deifnetly" he said

"It says here on the paper.." he pulled it out of his pocket and showed them, "That its almost half of our final grade."

Their eyes bulged "You're playin me man!" Vance gasped going over and pulling the paper from his grasp, his eyes bulged, he looked at Johnny "What we gonna do?"

"Write the stupid poem, what else?" Johnny replied irritably taking a drag off his cigarette

"What we gonna write them on?" Lefty asked suddenly- he was generally quiet when they were smoking or drinking- he took his hobbies very seriously

"What we love, dumbass" Ricky laughed "What else?"

"What do we love?" Norton asked looking up

"Oh! Thats easy!" Johnny shrugged, "Peanut- you'll probably write about your admiration of me, Norton you'll write about your sledge hammer Michelle, Ricky you'll write about your girl- oh, jeez, don't start cryin'! Lefty, you'll write about your booze, Lucky your mom- don't blush, its not so lame- Vance, well.. need I say anymore? And Hal, your Gram" he said

They all laughed, Johnny knew them too well, and they all knew exactly who he'd write about "Lollaaaa!" they teased in a mocking roar of laughter making kissy-faces at their Boss and rolling with laughter despite his glare, of course though, they were absolutely right. Johnny Vincent didn't love a single person anymore than his girl Lola Lombardi.

They sat down speeratley and hour later and scribbled down some short-half-ass poems. Johnny made one too just to humor them, they got him to read it aloud:

"Galloway is such a drunk

He's got Phillips to fuck

But I taught my girl to suck"

Then he gave a waggle of his hips to inspire sexual inuendo and the others rolled, cackling with laughter. Once they went to bed Johnny sat down to write it seriously- and the next day he handed it in, rather proud of his ability- it wasn't a great poem but it couldn't be anymore true than that. The day after Galloway came into class with a big grin on his face.

"I'm glad to say" he began, "Most of you wrote some excellent poems- though there was one I wasn't sure was ethical.." he looked at Hal who'd mentioned something about eating baby humans in Edna's casserole. "..but, one really stood out to me. I'd like to read it aloud."

Everyone laughed, but the Greasers laughed the hardest. "Poor sap" Norton roared "Gotta have his poem read out loud!"

Galloway looked at them, "I'm glad you're so enthused, because its your own Johnny Vincent who wrote it"

Everyone went dead silent and Johnny's head snapped up and he flushed in embarassment, no way- he had to be kidding! Damn! He cursed himself for revising it- three lines was a poem! Why'd he go overboard? What has he thinking?!

"What?" he asked finally, his throat felt dry and everyone was lookng at him, he felt so alienated

"You heard me Mr. Vincent, come up here and read it to us" Galloway said motioning Johnny forward. The Greaser swallowed and stood- he felt like his knees were gonna give out and he walked up to Galloway- trying to ignore the wide-eyes staring a hole into the back of his jacket. He took the paper form Galloway, trying to ebb the shaking in his hands, he wet his lips and kept his eyes glued to the thin blue lines on the notebook paper. He cleared his throat and began.

"Galloways' such a drunk

But he's got Phillips to fuck

I wish my girl weren't such a slut

somethimes its really too much

Norton tells me that she don't care

and I know he's right

'Cause my girl ain't with me at night

she's on her back in another guys bed

leavin' me with tears to shed

But I ain't gonna cry no more

Eventhough my girls a whore

I don't care how much she begs

even if she spreads her legs

Fact is its gotten too much

I don't have her body to touch

I don't have her no more

But I love her and it sucks

Especially when we fuck

'Cause she says she loves me so much

and I just wanna say 'you slut'

But I don't 'cause right then

she's my girl

I get to touch her,

hold her body close to mine,

kiss her neck

touch her spine

love her to death and promise the world

Then I wake up alone and I'm curshed

all 'cause my girls a slut

We argue and fight

Every single night

I know it don't mean much to her

But it tears my heart apart

she leaves with the words

'baby, you need me'

she never says she's sleezy

But, dammit, she's right

I need her every night

Every second of every day

all the time in every way

We say we're over all the time

and people ask why I beg for her back

But no one's seen my girl before

before she was a slut

But that don't matter no more

'Cause now my girls a whore

I don't want her no more

Don't want my heart crushed

by a two-timin' slut."

He looked up breifly and swore he saw Mandy wiping her eyes and looking at Angie as if it meant something to her personally, and the Preppies were biting back chuckles, the Jocks didn't seem to understand, and his friends seemed rather misty-eyed. He knew they'd never cry, but at least they all knew now he and Lola were over. If Johnny Vincent could say all that it had to be over. Galloway was clapping solemnly as f he understood the magnitude. Then he launched into a rant about literary devices and how to effectively use them. Johnny went to his seat in the back; the others turned to him. They all looked pretty concerned.

"You okay man?" Peanut asked him softly

Johnny nodded, "Never better, Peanut- why ya' askin?"

"...Just checkin'" he replied and turned back around in his seat to listen to Galloway rant.

Yup. The End.