"You may not be interested in the dialectic, but the dialectic is interested in you." ~ Leon Trotsky 

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After another morning of uneventful Important Announcements in homeroom with Or'sir. I drop May off at her Trainspotting number's class, and confirm our standing lunch date. Then off to drone thru my own number songs with Singh-a-Long. I have come to see that the big man in the turban is way-way smarter than his students. But unlike Or'sir he actually tries to teach us up, instead of put us down.  

So after numbers I roll into English early and catch Butchy staring out the windows at all the open air. Probably hating on nature again, but for what now? After the way we left things at Da Frost"yesterday, I am still a little concerned, that me and The Butcher are not all "Peaced out" as promised. So before Or'sir can slither in and seize control of the day, I make the smart choice and slide into my seat without giving the monster his good morning hug.

"Zup, Butchy." I side-eye the monster cautiously.  

"Hey, Deenz." Butch finally snaps out of his special hate place, notices me and throws me a chin checks me back.  

Okay, so we are back to "Deenz" again? Not really sure if that is back to our old new normal or something else entirely?

"So you cool today, or what?" I poke the monster cautiously.

"Uh huh." Butchy scowls slowly as if this a difficult line of inquiry for him. "Yeah, me and Buster talked a lot of hard words after that thing at Da Frost ...yesterday?"

Okay, so smiling monster is good, but a monster losing track of time? Yeah, I'm thinking that's not the best thing ever. As to what exactly "talking hard words" with Butchy consisted of? I'm thinking that could not have been easy on anyone, especially the English language.

I mean seriously, this guy is so off in his own world of beer, boobs and football, that he needs to bring his own translator to a fist fight? I can only begin imagining how many actual flocks it must have taken for him to complete all the hard words he talked at Buster. And after having witnessed firsthand the gerbil that runs his brain? I am pretty sure that the answer to that question ...is a whole lot of flocking flocks. 

"So not to be all paranoid or whatever? But you getting a wyrd vibe in the halls today?" I test the waters with the monster.

"Weird normal or weird today?" He cocks his massive brick head back curiously.

Oh blaze me! I just started talking my own hard words to the monster.

"Yeah, I don't really know wyrd normal around here?" I feel out the strange sense of San Fall post-Frost fight. "Only a lot of people are sorta staring at me strange today, that didn't even look twice at me yesterday."

"Oh, that's just that MVP glory shit." Butchy shrugs sagely, like this is supposed to make complete sense.

"MVP glory shit?" I blink back at the monster. 

"Yeah, happened to me before that once time after the first big game." He reassures me of his innate insensitivity for the local vibe.  

"Like chicklets know your name now, who didn't before? And they don't really mind you smiling at their staring boobs anymore." He skins back his wide toothy tombstone grin at all the awesome memories that must live in his head. "But don't get used to it, cause that goes away pretty quick. And all those halls whisper kids? Yeah, they go find something else to know alter."

I'm pretty sure he meant to say "later", but it's a tough call in the current, as I am hardly fluent in Butchering English. So I am not even going to touch the hall whispers kids, for fear of what that might reveal of the nightmarish world of whispering shadows that The Butcher exists in.

"Okay well, thanks for the heads up on that." For what? I have zero idea.

So now it's time to push my luck and poke the monster a little more. "So Creepy Ferret kid? You gonna put that fight together today like we agreed yesterday?"

"Right, flocking Ferret flocker." Butchy growls and glowers out into the ether. I know that vacant stare now, it's his "I half hate you" glare-stare. "No worries, I got that now. I'm gonna make Buster to fight that little freak over the weekend, so that's good now."

Now this is news to me, and not exactly the news I wanted to hear from him. Nor at all what was tentatively agreed upon at our parlay at the "Da Frost" yesterday last.

"Ah, Butch?" I try to sound out almost reasonable. "I thought we agreed that little Creep was gonna be my Christmas come-up present ...not Busters?"

"Yeah, I know we touched on that..."  Butchy frowns down searching for the word yesterday. "But alter, when I had all those words with Busty, some things changed. Cause I made him tell me all about the once time you guys started having shit this summer ...at that one place? And about Maybe being there, and how everything got sideways for a strange second. Right before you smacked Slater around like a clown." 

"At the Annex bleachers?" Yes, Butch many yesterdays ago when we had all those words that once time before.

"Yeah, and that once before that." Butchy perpetual frown has now darkened perceptibly into a scary scowl.

"Look Deenz, I can tell that you have some hate in your heart for those two little freaky flocks. And believe me, I really respect that hate." He is bobbing his big brick head up and down as he explains his words to me. "But Buster needs to get gone from those two little freaks, specially that flocker Ferret. Cause trust me, that creepy little flock is no good for no one. And I've been up Buster's balls for like a couple of a years to cut those two little shit pieces out of his life."  

And yes, Butchy actually says "a years". But I just roll with it as everyone else does, cause it's just so much easier that way.

"So I twisted all that shit out of him last night, and that summer stuff with Maybe was not cool." Butchy shakes his massive head malevolently. "And even though Buster didn't technically do anything wrong ...he didn't dogdamn do anything flocking right either."

"Just by being there, with those two little flocking freaks is enough to make him look wrong. But he gets that now. So now he's got to pay for that day, for all he didn't do right. But that's not on you, that's on me now, cause he's my brother. And I am my brothers ...other brother, and that cuts that."  Butchy slowly shakes off all the confusion. "So like I said, I got this, and this is going to be good now."

This is by far the most words I've ever heard him string together in some semblance of order, that didn't involve the many differing variations of the flock word. But Butchering the English language aside, I can kind of see Butchy's logic in this line of thinking. But still, Butch has stolen my hate thunder and handed it off to Buster, without so much as a by your leave?

On the upside, May will no doubt be pleased to hear that I am not using her as my rhyme and reason for a meet and beats with Creep. Downside? I really wanted that Creep teeth necklace for my Christmas present.

"Okay Butchy, I can kinda see where you are going with that thought." But I have to point out the obvious flaw in his grand design. "But how exactly is this better for me and mine?" 

"You're new Deenz, so you don't get the vines yet. But trust it's much better this way." Butchy rotates his massive head around to see if anyone is listening in on him, before sharing his secrets.

"Ever since at Da Frost, Slater's slutty senior sister Becks been running her mouth. All about how her brother got all sucked into me and Busters bullshit with you? And how it ain't right me smacking that little shit down in front of everyone just because and ...blah blah blah bitch bitch bitch  ...something?" Butchy momentarily loses track of his yesterdays again.  

"So Buster fighting Ferret shuts that shit right down for good. So me smacking Slater around,  then Buster beating the shits out of Ferret's ass? Yeah, that sends the right message to everyone right there." He skins a grin of merry malevolence. "That there's more to all this than some just because bullshit. Then everyone will whisper that Ferret and Slater are little pervy shits, who deserved the beats they got, and then some. They won't know the why's ...but trust, they will all know who's. And that's what really matters to the vines."

Ah flock me! I was right, this is all about local politics now. I can already see that Butchy's one track mind is stuck in "The best idea ever!" mode. So while I might be slightly Insanistani, I'm still not stupid enough to get inside of this yet. Because I know full well local politics are for locals only, and I am the odd one out.

"Okay Butchy, if that's what you think is bester?" I attempt to communicate in his dialectic. "I thought you handled that shit at the Frost most admirably. I don't know anyone who could been judge, jury, and executioner all at once. That was cool shit to watch you handle that flock. So no worries, it's all good and you coo'cool."

And yes, I am stoking the fire of this monsters ego to get out of this clusterflock what I really want from him.

"Cool, I...coo'cool?"  Butchy mugs along, probably because "appreciate" was way too hard of a word to annunciate.

"So this other before stuff you said,  that didn't happen at the Annex? What's that about?" I eye him hard. Because I can tell he has not being fully forthcoming and is hedging around the edge of another thought. And this before that thing is now really bugging the crap out of me.

"Before was just some leftover bullshit from last year, from before you were around." Butchy grumbles lowly scowls. "Don't worry about it, that's on me now too."

"Okay then, you seem like you got it all under control. So long as it doesn't have anything to do with me or Maybe, handle your business." I nod along, seeing the raging bull inside his head looking for a red flag to charge has clearly reached his limit of his happy hate thoughts. "But if and when, I go after Creep on my own time? That won't have anything to do with you and yours, right?"

"Ah...huh?" Butchy pauses to think this thru and begins to slowly smile. "Yeah, just let me know when you think you are gonna do that? Just so we don't cockblock each other on that bitches beats."  

"That I can do, so long as part of this new deal of ours is set in stone." I say really slow to make sure the words absorbs all the way through the thick brick skull to Mr. Gerbil. "But I need for me and Maybe, to not be talked about in this thing with Buster. Personally, I don't really care about me? But it's bad for Maybe, and I can't have that on her."

"Nothing I can do about wagging tongues guy." He shakes his big blockhead hard. "That's all bitch city business, and I ain't got the right parts for any opinion over on that side of boxer town."

"Yeah okay, I can see where that would be an issue." I nod along pretending like I understood what most of that meant. "But like you said, I'm new, right? So let's just say my goal here is to get everyone to be like you, Butch. Judge people on the truth of who they are, and not who every else wants them to be. I only want the trouble I want, and that is not to be troubled. And I just want everyone else to do the same. So what does it matter who cool with who?"

"Oh, it matters." Butchy nods and makes his big eyes.

"To who?" I side eye the monster, cause as far as I know no one cares about me at all ...save maybe for May.

"To ...everyone?" Butch cocks his head confused.

"Then everyone else but me, cause I only care about who I'm cool with." But I see that he needs some convincing. "Like I have no idea who you are cool with Butchy. I don't care, you could be hanging with Guys Mike for all I care..."

"Hey guy, you wanna slow your roll right there. I got good teammates that are fags, but flocking Guys Mike definitely ain't one of them." I almost lose my new acolyte with a slip of the tongue.  But in the process, I learn something in Butchy's strange world of San Fall sense. That being a homophobic stereotype is a lot less important to him than being a good teammate.     

"Sorry, didn't mean that the way it sounded." I shake off the thought of Butcher and Guys Mike on a bicycle built for two singing some "So happy together" songs.  

"The point is I don't give a flock about the local politics in this place. But more importantly, I don't want the local politics to give a flock about me either. Because let's face it Butchy, you have a big say in local politics around here. And next a years when you're a senior, you will be the final say in local politics."  

Now that is one seriously scary thought. I am suddenly very glad that I am not going to be around long enough to see King Butchy rule the roost here in Hell. That many a flocker will learn to run a whole lot flocking faster from this monster. Because I have a good feeling that the blood, tears, and urine will be running deep at Da Frost. 

"So you want to run this show? Cool with me." I shrug off the inevitable Ragnarok of Da Frost. "You want Buster to beat the Freak, even cooler. You want me to give you a heads up when I go after the Freak myself? No worries...we coo'cool. But I am gonna need a favor from you in return for all this coolness. Okay?" 

"What favor?" The monster side-eyes me suspiciously. 

"Today at lunch, you swing by where me and Maybe sit, and just say 'Hey'. That way everyone gets the idea that we are cool, and doesn't keep asking either one of us what's the deal?" I nod along with the new cool. "So that way all those "Hallway Whispers Kids" you spoke so highly of? Can all go back to finding something else to talk about besides us."

Butchy contemplates this deeply, like this is a major favor for me to ask of him.

"Okay, I can do that." He finally nods and then drops the one question he actually might care about. "So what's the deal with you and the Grimm sisters anyways? You into Little Apes hate or something twisted with Maybe ...maybe?" He scowls deeply at me, and this thought seems to really bother Butchy deeply for some reason.  

"Me and May are cool." I shrug nonchalantly. "But me and April? Naw, not so much."
 
Yeah, I might be broken, but even I am not that broken yet. Because while a little Misadventure with Maybe sounds inciting, Death by Cheerleader just sounds seriously stupid.

"Yeah, Maybe's is okay. Me and her been dummy math buddies for a years." Butchy admits a strange truth that he clearly been bothering him for many a years.  "I mean I know why I have to be a dummy, for football and shit. I just don't get why they make Maybe go to Math, with the rest of the dumbness? Like what the hell is she ever gonna need pre-alge-bras for? Let alone the hard shit with all the triangles and letters? It's all total bullshits, if you ask me." Butchy shrugs off the inexplicable mystery of dark arts of mathematics.  

"But little Apes is one stone cold bitch when she wants to be. Unless she wants something from you? Then she can be alright, more or less." But then Butchy can't help himself from over sharing his own deep dark thoughts on the sinister Grimm sister.

"I mean her tits are a ways on the small side, but what an ass. And when she does those spirit splits at the cheer rallies? Floooooock me sideways and twice on Sundays! That shit hurts just thoughting about what kind of damage that could do on your..."

Thankfully the bell finally ends talking time with Butchy before he can finish that hard "thoughting" about what the Spirit Splits could do to his personality. So while I do find Butchy is a fair and enlightened soul in his massive misogyny. The last thing I really need to hear about is his dark fantasies featuring Someones Sinister Sister's future stripper skills.    

Unfortunately for the rest of the flocks as soon as the hell bell ends it's irritation, the evil little midget is on the rampage.

"Alright, people settle down. Congratulations, it's pop quiz day!" He waits for the obligatory "Ooooo Noooo..." to sound back at him, to let him know that he is as hated as ever.

"Bitch of a bastard!" Butcher seethes and I know our talking time is done for the duration. I can only hope he recalls our deal in the many tomorrows to come, especially seeing that we have already established remembering yesterday is a difficulty.

"The test packages with scantrons are being passed back as we speak. Those of you that came to class unprepared please raise your hand, if you require a number two pencil ...and an additional ten percent deduction of your final score." He smirks twistedly back at all the hate now coming his way.

At this point, I am seriously tempted to whisper in Butcher's ear just what we used to use No. 2 pencils shanks for at my old school. But then again I'm wearing my favorite Mr. Zoggs Sex Wax shirt and bad blood is so hard to get out. 

As the test packages are being passed back, Or'sir pulls a move that I haven't seen since someone lied to Teacher History last year, and told them they saw Gromit with an ice pick in his pocket. Or'sir struts all the way to the back corner of our paradise lost, to stand right behind me and Butchy. Where he just hovers behind us, so close that I can hear the air whistling through the nose hairs of his little boy beard.

"You have half the class to finish," he chortles gleefully. "You may now begin."

So I open my test to find out just how much of an evil entity this vile little creature really is. The test isn't on Beowulf at all, it's on the comparison material he only mentioned in passing, Gilgamesh. Lucky for me I got almost no sleep last night, so I had nothing better to do than reading Gilgamesh online. So the test is actually pretty easy for me. Unlucky for the rest of my class this excuse for a teacher just flocked them over hardcore. 

Butchy for instance, is now muttering hatefully under his breath "What the hell is this Haba-dabba Humbaba bullshit?"  Based on the barely suppressed schadenfreude snicker snorts emanating from behind me, I am pretty sure the evil little mini-man can hear him too. He's practically giggling in girlie glee down at Butchy's mostly blank scantron.  

After I finish the twenty-five questions about the adventures of Gil's Sumerian surf safari, I turn my test over and call it a day. One glance back at Or'sir and I can see he looks pleased as punch. He just blazed over an entire class by misleading them to study the wrong material for the test, and this guy could not look happier with himself if he tried.

Grinning like some creepy little clown pervert who can't wait to ...do whatever sick stuff creepy little clown perverts do in the privacy of their own clown cars. Which I am pretty sure is the stuff of nightmares.