The Racing Roaches Story

I was pretty bored in High School. Except in art class. That makes sense. I'm an artist.

My friend, Duke, and I, caught a couple of good sized cockroaches in art class one day and not content to leave well enough alone, painted them in racing colors. You know, like stock cars. If we'd have small enough paint brushes, we'd probably have put sponsors on them too. And when we were done, we carefully packed them into the barrel of a Bic pen (after removing the pen cartridge).

And off to Geometry class we went.

We didn't much care for our Geometry instructor. Or maybe it was Algebra, don't remember. It was Mr. Martin, whichever one he was.

Duke and I sat in the back of class.

Let the races begin.

We let the cockroaches go. They scurried up the class aisles. Being neon yellow and magenta, one with polka dots, the other with a racing stripe, they were hard to miss. A girl sitting in front of us, we shall call her Kathy ... because that's her name ... screamed and stomped on our damned racing roaches. End of race. Two little mushy yellow and magenta blobs on the floor.

Crap-ola.

All that art gone up in flames.