*As I said, this chapter will be mostly about meeting the Boggs Brothers
close friends. Maybe some other stuff. Who knows? Enjoy. *
The bus that went by our house was basically what my friend Bruce would call "shitty." Bruce was my numero uno best friend. Bruce wasn't an ordinary kinda' monster. He was really laid back and mellow. He was what most would call "a stoner." I must agree. But hey, they don't call it "high" school for nothing. He was always spaced out, but he was more fun to be around that a dumb jock, or a ditzy "Valley Monster." Also, Bruce had a very limited, and when I say, "Limited," I mean it, taste in music. He liked four bands, period. Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Deep Purple, and The Beatles. Go figure, I only liked Zeppelin.
Bruce was the same age as me, about sixteen. He was a lizard type monster, almost identical to me, except for a few differences. He had six arms and legs, unlike my four. Also, instead of fronds, he had a wild dirty blonde head of hair that was never brushed or combed. He washed it every night, but he didn't do anything besides that. It was just there. His scales were smaller than mine and a pail white color, speckled with greens, blues, reds, and blacks. His tail was longer. And, he had three eyes with silver pupils, all of them bloodshot and droopy. Last, his mouth had like two or three rows of sharp fang-like teeth. He was pretty interesting to look at, probably scare a human kid shitless. He always wore a faded jean jacket, a gold necklace, and blue tennis shoes. He was really cool in my book.
When Bruce spoke, he didn't let on to just how intelligent he really was. I think he had a two-twenty I.Q. or something. Almost every sentence that came from his mouth had either the words, "like, man," or, "dude" in it. Like I said, he was fun to be around.
My other best friend was named Gregory. I called him Greg. He was what everyone would call, "a geek." So he made good grades, I made good grades too. I think it was really how he dressed. He always wore some heavily starched shit, with pocket protector. And he needed a new pair of glasses. His were coke bottle frames with tap down the middles. And maybe also, it was his haircut, or maybe his braces, or maybe even the fact that he had like thirty academic awards. On second thought, he was a geek. But it's not like he knew the dictionary backwards or anything like that. Besides, he was my friend; I didn't care what he was.
He was shorter than me, blue, and three eyes. With his glasses, he was "six eyes." His legs were inverted and what not. He had a brother in the exchange student program named Fungus. Just like Bruce, I didn't know Greg's last name.
The bus slowed to a stop, and Bruce got on. He had on a pair of three eyed shades. He had a dazed and almost confused look on his face. He grinned and waved at me. Slowly, with the up most grace of a stoned monster, he made his way to the back of the bus and sat down in the seat in front of me. "Hey dude, how's it hanging?" he asked, it was his usual greeting.
"To the left," I said. "How are you doing? You look pretty gone today." He took of his glasses, reveling his bloodshot eyes.
"Yeah, mom and dad had another fight, you know how it is. Anyway, I took a small chunk out of my 'Stash o' Hash'," he said. That was the only reason Bruce smoked what he did. He did it to escape his shitty home life. I didn't blame him. It wasn't like he was into any other drugs.
Anyway, back to what was going on. The bus was very rundown. The seats were torn and ripped. Most of the duct tape that had covered the holes had been pulled off. There was a layer of candy wrappers, chewed gum, and dirt about a half-inch thick on the metal floor. The bus driver was an older monster. She wore glasses with rhinestones in the corners. She looked like a large slug with sharp teeth. I still don't know how she worked the pedals. I heard she was some girl at school's grandmother. I think her name was Roz.
Bruce looked back at Randall. Randall never really liked Bruce, not since he thought he was my sister for a week and a half. And also, I think Randall still held it against him that one time when Bruce came over for the night, he ate Randall's left over take out food. Randall was one to hold a grudge; I just thought it was funny. "Hey, Randall dude, what's up, man?"
Randall rolled his eyes. "Nothing 'is up', Bruce. How's about you continue your 'riveting' conversation with Val?" Randall wasn't in the mood to talk to Bruce, though, he never was.
Just then, Bruce became fixated on Randall's piano key tie. "Aw, Dude! Where'd you get that awesome tie? Does it play Stairway to Heaven?" He asked with a chuckle.
Randall was starting to turn red. "No, no it doesn't. You tripped out criton! This tie does not play music. And I bought it at the mall!" Randall's temper back in high school wasn't as well kept as it is today. And also, Randall was always under the delusion that the word "cretin", was pronounced "kritten".
"Was it on sale?" Bruce asked, I could tell, he was honestly interested. Randall shot him a look that was a mixture of fire and ice, it even freaked me out.
"Whoa, man, just chill! Forget I like, said anything," Bruce said as he pulled a candy bar out of his jacket and placed it in his mouth, wrapper and all. Bruce was always eating snacks, for a more than obvious reason.
There were several teachers at school that had it in for me, most of all, our English teacher, Mrs. Crawfish. She was ancient. I still think she taught the cave monsters in prehistoric times. She looked like a withered old scorpion, and she had the temper of one. She also had a very predominant hump on her back. It wasn't pleasant. And to top it off, every fifteen minutes, or so, she go outside and have a smoke. It was rumored that she stored the smoke in her hump to make it through classes. She was crazed.
The first day we had her in tenth grade, she ranted and raved in a rather raspy voice, "Everyone said this hump on my back would put me in a wheelchair and I'd never be able to walk! They said I'd never have children! But, I have twelve! All the doctors said smoking would kill me, but here I am, eighty-five years-old, and I've been smoking since I was sixteen!" It was magical. Over her blackboard was a plack that read "Be reasonable. Do it my way, or fail." Bruce thought it was a joke, until he got an F on his first A paper.
Another fine example of a teacher was Mr. Sullivan, tall, blue, hairy, and a total dipshit. He was your usual eccentric science teacher. He was totally convinced everyone in the room was on dope, except his perfect son, James Phillip Sullivan. He didn't believe in calling us by name. He called us by numbers. Since me, Bruce, and Greg sat in the back, after heavily persuading Greg, we had numbers 15, 16, and 17. I feel sorry for the two guys in front who were "# 1 and 2." As Bruce would say, "He was a trip."
As far as Randall and I knew, Mr. Sullivan lost a job opening, to our dad, at Monsters Inc. Since he simply despised our dad, he hated Randall and me even more. He'd given us both detention more times than we could count, usually for something his perfect son and his moronic friend, Michael Wazowski, did.
If you've read today's newspapers, you know all about my "evil" brother and the two "heroes", Mike and Sully. But you didn't have to be around them. Sullivan was the total jock. He went out with a preppy, snob cheerleader named Cynthia Sulston. She was butt ugly, to a T. And as for Wazowski, he was the total class clown. He thrived off of attention, like some stupid three year-old. He even competed with Bruce. Bruce was naturally funny, Wazowski wasn't. Yet he was "Mr. Popular", only because he hung out with Sullivan. But, they were perfect for each other, the beautiful couple.
The bus was rocketing down the street at a blinding ten miles an hour. It was anarchy. "People on ludes should not drive busses. By the time we get to school, it'll be lunchtime. Come on, can't we go any faster!" Bruce was yelling at the bus driver. "I saw my grandmother sprint by us!"
"Don't give me that, Spencer! I'll write you up if you give me anymore lip!" The bus driver yelled from her seat at the front of the bus. I could smell her perfume all the way from the back. Las Clair de Luna, I think it was, it was nastier than the name suggested.
I looked over at Bruce, "Your last name's Spencer?" I asked, holding back a laugh.
"Yeah, man. Don't rub it in," he said with a smirk. He took raised up in his seat and rubbed one of his bloodshot eyes. "But Mrs. Belster, I don't have any lips to give you. Besides, you already have a pair, don't you?" The whole bus broke into an uproar of laughter. Even Randall couldn't help but bust out laughing.
"That's it, Spencer! You've crossed the line! I'm reporting you to the office when we get to school!" Mrs. Belster was blood red; spit was flying from her mouth. It was a sight to behold. I knew, one day, Bruce would make her snap. I gave Bruce a high five, since I only had three fingers though; it was a "high three".
I said, "Dude, we have got to go to the mall some time. We can have some pizza, play some arcade games. I'll buy the pizza." It had been a while since we had hung out at the mall. Bruce's parents were both drunks, so he didn't get out much, and after what he told the driver, I felt it my duty to buy him pizza.
"Yeah, sounds cool dude. But, why?" He asked with yet another smirk.
"Because, you're my friend, you're cool, and you deserve something after that!" We both started laughing.
Bruce looked over at Randall, "What about him? Is he coming?"
"No, he's got to go get his learner's," I said. "He doesn't have time for his little bro anymore."
Randall just laughed, "Yeah right, I spend lots of time with you."
Yeah, yeah, I know." I looked over at Bruce; the smell of his clothes was starting to make me hungry. "Hey man, can I have a candy bar?"
"Yeah, sure," Bruce said as he handed me another candy bar from his pockets.
Finally, the bus pulled up into the parking lot of the high school. "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." I said with a sorrowful grimis that would win anybody an acting award. Both Randall and Bruce laughed.
The bus that went by our house was basically what my friend Bruce would call "shitty." Bruce was my numero uno best friend. Bruce wasn't an ordinary kinda' monster. He was really laid back and mellow. He was what most would call "a stoner." I must agree. But hey, they don't call it "high" school for nothing. He was always spaced out, but he was more fun to be around that a dumb jock, or a ditzy "Valley Monster." Also, Bruce had a very limited, and when I say, "Limited," I mean it, taste in music. He liked four bands, period. Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Deep Purple, and The Beatles. Go figure, I only liked Zeppelin.
Bruce was the same age as me, about sixteen. He was a lizard type monster, almost identical to me, except for a few differences. He had six arms and legs, unlike my four. Also, instead of fronds, he had a wild dirty blonde head of hair that was never brushed or combed. He washed it every night, but he didn't do anything besides that. It was just there. His scales were smaller than mine and a pail white color, speckled with greens, blues, reds, and blacks. His tail was longer. And, he had three eyes with silver pupils, all of them bloodshot and droopy. Last, his mouth had like two or three rows of sharp fang-like teeth. He was pretty interesting to look at, probably scare a human kid shitless. He always wore a faded jean jacket, a gold necklace, and blue tennis shoes. He was really cool in my book.
When Bruce spoke, he didn't let on to just how intelligent he really was. I think he had a two-twenty I.Q. or something. Almost every sentence that came from his mouth had either the words, "like, man," or, "dude" in it. Like I said, he was fun to be around.
My other best friend was named Gregory. I called him Greg. He was what everyone would call, "a geek." So he made good grades, I made good grades too. I think it was really how he dressed. He always wore some heavily starched shit, with pocket protector. And he needed a new pair of glasses. His were coke bottle frames with tap down the middles. And maybe also, it was his haircut, or maybe his braces, or maybe even the fact that he had like thirty academic awards. On second thought, he was a geek. But it's not like he knew the dictionary backwards or anything like that. Besides, he was my friend; I didn't care what he was.
He was shorter than me, blue, and three eyes. With his glasses, he was "six eyes." His legs were inverted and what not. He had a brother in the exchange student program named Fungus. Just like Bruce, I didn't know Greg's last name.
The bus slowed to a stop, and Bruce got on. He had on a pair of three eyed shades. He had a dazed and almost confused look on his face. He grinned and waved at me. Slowly, with the up most grace of a stoned monster, he made his way to the back of the bus and sat down in the seat in front of me. "Hey dude, how's it hanging?" he asked, it was his usual greeting.
"To the left," I said. "How are you doing? You look pretty gone today." He took of his glasses, reveling his bloodshot eyes.
"Yeah, mom and dad had another fight, you know how it is. Anyway, I took a small chunk out of my 'Stash o' Hash'," he said. That was the only reason Bruce smoked what he did. He did it to escape his shitty home life. I didn't blame him. It wasn't like he was into any other drugs.
Anyway, back to what was going on. The bus was very rundown. The seats were torn and ripped. Most of the duct tape that had covered the holes had been pulled off. There was a layer of candy wrappers, chewed gum, and dirt about a half-inch thick on the metal floor. The bus driver was an older monster. She wore glasses with rhinestones in the corners. She looked like a large slug with sharp teeth. I still don't know how she worked the pedals. I heard she was some girl at school's grandmother. I think her name was Roz.
Bruce looked back at Randall. Randall never really liked Bruce, not since he thought he was my sister for a week and a half. And also, I think Randall still held it against him that one time when Bruce came over for the night, he ate Randall's left over take out food. Randall was one to hold a grudge; I just thought it was funny. "Hey, Randall dude, what's up, man?"
Randall rolled his eyes. "Nothing 'is up', Bruce. How's about you continue your 'riveting' conversation with Val?" Randall wasn't in the mood to talk to Bruce, though, he never was.
Just then, Bruce became fixated on Randall's piano key tie. "Aw, Dude! Where'd you get that awesome tie? Does it play Stairway to Heaven?" He asked with a chuckle.
Randall was starting to turn red. "No, no it doesn't. You tripped out criton! This tie does not play music. And I bought it at the mall!" Randall's temper back in high school wasn't as well kept as it is today. And also, Randall was always under the delusion that the word "cretin", was pronounced "kritten".
"Was it on sale?" Bruce asked, I could tell, he was honestly interested. Randall shot him a look that was a mixture of fire and ice, it even freaked me out.
"Whoa, man, just chill! Forget I like, said anything," Bruce said as he pulled a candy bar out of his jacket and placed it in his mouth, wrapper and all. Bruce was always eating snacks, for a more than obvious reason.
There were several teachers at school that had it in for me, most of all, our English teacher, Mrs. Crawfish. She was ancient. I still think she taught the cave monsters in prehistoric times. She looked like a withered old scorpion, and she had the temper of one. She also had a very predominant hump on her back. It wasn't pleasant. And to top it off, every fifteen minutes, or so, she go outside and have a smoke. It was rumored that she stored the smoke in her hump to make it through classes. She was crazed.
The first day we had her in tenth grade, she ranted and raved in a rather raspy voice, "Everyone said this hump on my back would put me in a wheelchair and I'd never be able to walk! They said I'd never have children! But, I have twelve! All the doctors said smoking would kill me, but here I am, eighty-five years-old, and I've been smoking since I was sixteen!" It was magical. Over her blackboard was a plack that read "Be reasonable. Do it my way, or fail." Bruce thought it was a joke, until he got an F on his first A paper.
Another fine example of a teacher was Mr. Sullivan, tall, blue, hairy, and a total dipshit. He was your usual eccentric science teacher. He was totally convinced everyone in the room was on dope, except his perfect son, James Phillip Sullivan. He didn't believe in calling us by name. He called us by numbers. Since me, Bruce, and Greg sat in the back, after heavily persuading Greg, we had numbers 15, 16, and 17. I feel sorry for the two guys in front who were "# 1 and 2." As Bruce would say, "He was a trip."
As far as Randall and I knew, Mr. Sullivan lost a job opening, to our dad, at Monsters Inc. Since he simply despised our dad, he hated Randall and me even more. He'd given us both detention more times than we could count, usually for something his perfect son and his moronic friend, Michael Wazowski, did.
If you've read today's newspapers, you know all about my "evil" brother and the two "heroes", Mike and Sully. But you didn't have to be around them. Sullivan was the total jock. He went out with a preppy, snob cheerleader named Cynthia Sulston. She was butt ugly, to a T. And as for Wazowski, he was the total class clown. He thrived off of attention, like some stupid three year-old. He even competed with Bruce. Bruce was naturally funny, Wazowski wasn't. Yet he was "Mr. Popular", only because he hung out with Sullivan. But, they were perfect for each other, the beautiful couple.
The bus was rocketing down the street at a blinding ten miles an hour. It was anarchy. "People on ludes should not drive busses. By the time we get to school, it'll be lunchtime. Come on, can't we go any faster!" Bruce was yelling at the bus driver. "I saw my grandmother sprint by us!"
"Don't give me that, Spencer! I'll write you up if you give me anymore lip!" The bus driver yelled from her seat at the front of the bus. I could smell her perfume all the way from the back. Las Clair de Luna, I think it was, it was nastier than the name suggested.
I looked over at Bruce, "Your last name's Spencer?" I asked, holding back a laugh.
"Yeah, man. Don't rub it in," he said with a smirk. He took raised up in his seat and rubbed one of his bloodshot eyes. "But Mrs. Belster, I don't have any lips to give you. Besides, you already have a pair, don't you?" The whole bus broke into an uproar of laughter. Even Randall couldn't help but bust out laughing.
"That's it, Spencer! You've crossed the line! I'm reporting you to the office when we get to school!" Mrs. Belster was blood red; spit was flying from her mouth. It was a sight to behold. I knew, one day, Bruce would make her snap. I gave Bruce a high five, since I only had three fingers though; it was a "high three".
I said, "Dude, we have got to go to the mall some time. We can have some pizza, play some arcade games. I'll buy the pizza." It had been a while since we had hung out at the mall. Bruce's parents were both drunks, so he didn't get out much, and after what he told the driver, I felt it my duty to buy him pizza.
"Yeah, sounds cool dude. But, why?" He asked with yet another smirk.
"Because, you're my friend, you're cool, and you deserve something after that!" We both started laughing.
Bruce looked over at Randall, "What about him? Is he coming?"
"No, he's got to go get his learner's," I said. "He doesn't have time for his little bro anymore."
Randall just laughed, "Yeah right, I spend lots of time with you."
Yeah, yeah, I know." I looked over at Bruce; the smell of his clothes was starting to make me hungry. "Hey man, can I have a candy bar?"
"Yeah, sure," Bruce said as he handed me another candy bar from his pockets.
Finally, the bus pulled up into the parking lot of the high school. "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." I said with a sorrowful grimis that would win anybody an acting award. Both Randall and Bruce laughed.