After an hour of kicking it in silence with a boy from
Brooklyn I go back to my room. Justin is lying on the bed with his hands behind
his back as if he is looking at clouds.
“Hey, I thought we were supposed to be rehearsing for
the skit tonight.”
Justin says yeah probably. He says that no one showed
up at allocated said time and Josh got furious and accused everyone of not caring
for anything so now we’re gonna meet at 5:30 and figure something out.
I say its five-thirty now
I tell him that’s like right before dinner. Justin
makes a little pointer gun with his finger and thumb and says no duh before
pretending to fire the gun into his right temple. He still seems obsessed with
watching the BBC coverage of the Waco fiasco. He publically comments that he is
glad the US sent tanks in and got that freak.
“Where is everyone?” I inquire. Justin shrugs again.
“Josh got really pissed and started kicking the side
of the wall. He then hurt himself. He had to go ice his toe.”
I again ask a glassy-eyed Justin where the remainder
of our troops are. He says that he’s not sure but he thinks they are in Jim’s
den. I ask him which was is Jim’s den. Justin says two doors down on the left.
Baker is the last person I want to see right now.
I wonder if Harmony is enjoying her David.
“Kay, I’ll round up Baker and you get the rest of the
Big Ten. Maybe we can put something together real quick.”
Justin shrugs. He says whatever. Tanks float across
the television screen in stilted motion.
I leave my room and walk two doors down on the left.
Jim’s roommate is Mike whose brother is also on this trip and apparently, due
to some sort of corporate nepotism, will get to go back on the YC trip every
other year until he graduates high school. Because Mike just doesn’t get along
with Jim he spends most of his free time in Chris and Josh’s room and has even
spent the last two nights on Chris and Josh’s floor. When I knock on the door I hear Baker’s voice
stating that it is already open. When I enter Jim says if you want to use the
bathroom you are more than likely Harry, but sorry no tampons. I look up. The
left hand side of Jim’s room is festooned with cut outs of naked women.
Seemingly hundreds of them. I don’t know when he had the time.
“I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me about me
about that shit. I mean, we’ve been here at this hotel in London for what three
fucking days and you didn’t tell me that you could buy porn without getting
carded.”
What passes for porno periodicals on this side of the
Atlantic have rather upper-chin British sounding names. Names like Splosh and
Mayfair. Names like Razzle and Knave and Fiesta. There seems to be an exorbitant amount of
references to both nickers and buggers on the covers.
“Hair man, this shit is great man. This fucking shit
is great. It’s like living on top of a freaking adult bookstore.”
I tell Baker that that’s nice. I tell him that we need
to get together and plan something to perform onstage since we have only about
an hour til dinner. Jim stops and says
how he loves that Brits refer to sex as shaggin’.
Baker man come on. We got to get everyone together.
“You knew about it Harry.”
I say what.
“Yeah, I saw you hanging out with the person who told
me so that I know you know. I could have been investing in some serious
Jim man we gotta get together and figure something out
man.
Jim says figure this out and makes a proctologist
–wielding fist emblem in my direction.
I look around at the montage. There are British girls
with chocolate syrup dappled on their bottoms. There are girls with bushes that
looks like Ostriches nests. I have never seen any of my girlfriend’s naked. The
closest I have come is the college girls next door.
Jim makes an idiosyncratic comment stating that just
how the British people call French fries chips, they call asses bums.
Bums. Harry you are a Bumhole, man.
I look around. There are pictures of naked red-headed
girls with freckles. There is a picture
of a girl wearing books trussed past the caps of her knees and not much
else. Every time there is a picture of a
British couple fornicating for some reason the male partner is almost always
bald.
“You’re gonna get in trouble for having all of that
pornography in the room. The maids are going to come to tidy up your bedroom.
You’re going to get us all kicked out of the hotel.
Jim says bite me. He says that he doubts they are
going to kick all the YC’ers out just because he’s getting some serious
wank-time in.
Justin comes to the door. He knocks twice and then
proceeds to enter. Jim holds up a
picture of a woman with very British teeth forming a V with her lower torso, a
Pembroke corgi licking whip cream from her pudendum. The title reads PEMBROKE
ORGY.
Jim holds it up and says that is one smartass dog,
dude.
I look around. Jim says be careful because he like
literally jammed a nut on some of the pages so you might want to turn the
glossies with a pair of tweezers and a blue-light.
“Has the entire
Big Ten seen this montage?” I inquire Chris and Mike comes into the room and he
is limping. Followed by Alaskan Bryan.
“Spencer was in here a minute ago. Can you believe it?
Apparently he had never seen a naked woman before. He kept on saying that in
Utah, because of the Mormonism and shit, there’s no sales of Penthouse and they
don’t have any cinemax.”
Jim says that he wished he had a picture of Daisy to
put on one of the faces of the nude models.
He points to a woman wearing the Union Jack as
panties.
“Hair tell me you would not hit that shit. I mean, you
would Union Jack her in the Big Ben.”
I am trying digress. I look at Eagle Scout Josh who
says that it is nice of you to finally join us. Half of the Big Ten have
filtered into the room. I say okay.
“Alright James, focus, we’re doing a skit that is a
tour of England from the periphery of the Big Ten. Lets start in Stratford.”
I ask who wants to be William Shakespeare. Jim holds
up a porno of a lady with a Whitesnake perm and a Kielbasa and says William
Shakespeare this. I look at Josh. He looks as if he has completely given up
trying to form a solid skit with these bunch of yahoos.
Spencer Banky and Spin Doctor Kenny enter the room. Spencer has the tie he wore earlier in the day
blindfolded over his eyes, stating that he is Mormon he can’t see this until
his wedding night and something about a secret name to get into Mormon Heaven.
Jim stands up and says dude, those Mormon chicks, were
talking tight-ass twats.
“Jim man we need to focus.”
I tell Chris to go out in the hallway and look for
Charles and Trevor and then we will adjourn to another room. Jim is biting the pigment white from his
knuckles. He is reading an article. He
says check this shit out:
“Hair, man, I’m reading this letter, you should have
your fat girlfriend you should have her give you a Blumpkin.Jim is alluding to Harmony. I tell Jim not to call her fat. He tells me to but margarine on my cock and stick my pecker in a butterball turkey.
Bryan from Alaska asks what a Blumpkin is.
Jim laughs.
“You guys’ are shittin me. You don’t know what a
Blumpkin is?”
There is silence. Chris says that Trevor and Charles
appear to be talking to future Rabbi Dan
down the hall and are en route so we should skedaddle if we don’t want
Berlin Wall o’ porn espied by authorities.
Jim points at
Justin. Justin swipes his head back and forth. He asks Spencer the same
question.
‘A blumpkin is when you are takin’ a shit and you whip
it out and your bitch starts going at you and sucking your cock. You have to
ejaculate and take a shit and then grab the back of her head at the same time
and then say that you are my blumpkin, bitch.”
I am ready to reprimand Jim. I try not to think about
releasing my bowels in the presence of a female who is angelically incapable of
shitting. I look at the pictures on the wall. I think about Nat and the
argument he had with his girlfriend this morning. I wonder if he was trying to
cozen Miss.. Arkansas into doing something that she wasn’t ready to do just
yet.
“Jim comeon’ knock it off. We need to work on this
skit. We need to prepare.”
Jim responds by feigning as if he is taking a dump the
next it is like he is pantomiming holding a microphone in front of his crotch
the next he is making Boarish expressions by contorting his face signaling that
he is Harmony.
I am ready to emotionally fester. We have fought
before.
I tell Jim to leave Harmony out of this. As was when I
jumped him near Westminster Bridge and he later had to apologize to the entire
Big Ten I tell Jim to knock this crazy shit off. I tell Jim that your own
roommate can’t even stand to be in the same vicinity of you. I tell Jim that he
doesn’t care about any of the sights we have seen on the trip. That he incessantly
belittles my girlfriend and can’t go two seconds without making some uncouth
and totally lewd comment in journal.
“Hair, tell your fat girl friend to bend over and I’ll
belittle her.”
Jim tell me to Eat his wad, Harry.
Eat my wad.
I snap.
This is the second time I have tried to fight Jim.
I leap. Jim goes down hurling up his magazine into the
air at the same time. It is like I
tackled magazine kiosk in an adult bookstore. I am pummeling him harder than I
have ever hit him before. Jim yelps out that I need to quit fucking him. Justin
has his Michigan hat turned backwards. I don’t care if I get put on the
discipline bus for the final day of the tour. Jim states that I need to take my pent up
sexually regression out on the sow instead.
Again, Jim begins to laugh. He is sayin’ yeah Harry, fuck me He is
asking me to give it to her like I my girlfriend. There is a tug at my shoulder.
It is Chris. At first I think he is pulling me back. I swing an errant
boomerang elbow in his direction and miss. One second I think that Chris is
attacking me the next I think that he is holding me back. I then realize that
he is punching Baker. He is on top of me and pummeling Baker in the gut.
There are three failed OPEN JEWELS and one bona fide
connection. Someone yells out fuck. Mike
does a belly flops as if he is searching for an errant football. Jim is saying
fuck me He is saying stick your dick inside of me. He is laughing. There are
tears. Right when I hit him again Alaskan Bryan gets on the bed and yells out
drop-kick. Spencer is not in the scrum but is humming the rocky theme song,
making peek-a-boo boxing style silhouettes against the pornographic montage.
It is our eighth day in England and we are beating the
ever living shit out of each other.
It is our eighth day in England and for the moment we
are one. It is England. We are the Big Ten. We are on top of each other. We are
a corporeal tumble weed of limbs jostling. Baker is telling out fuck me. Mike
picks up the copy of Razzle scrolls it into a baton and begins to flagellate
the side of the mass like a mallet to a bass drum. Justin is on Jim’s bed one
second and yells out drop kick. We are scattered. We are boys. We are
testosterone fueled and horny. We have been looking at pictures of naked
British trollops before pummeling each other’s burgeoning hardon. We have met
each other exactly a week ago. Now we are brothers.
We are mates.
We are a fraternity.
We are the Big Ten.
Josh says knock it off. He says that Trevor and
Charles will be here any moment. For a moment we freeze and spontaneously the
group as a whole has flooded on top of Josh. Even Spencer is getting few licks
in. There is laughter. Someone yells out wedgie. Kenny from Connecticut says
that the East Coast name for Wedgie is Melvin.
Josh says easy on the foot guys.
He says he just iced it. He says that he wants to go running one final
time with his girlfriend in the morning.\
There is laughter. There is more of a fracas. There is
a knock at the door. It is Trevor and Sir Charles. They are telling us to quit
rough housing. They are telling us to knock it off. Sir Charles says Guys two
times in a row.
There is laughter. Both Jim and I are laughing. Both
Jim and I are brothers.
We are laughing.
Sir Charles asks us what we are doing.
There is silence and then there is Spencer stating
that we are ust rehearsing for the skit.
“Mmmyeah, guys and what’s that.” Sir Charles notes, gesturing
with his left hand in the direction of Naked waterfall of flesh, Again there is
group hush Again there is a feeling as if we are about ready to be reprimanded.
The whole room is looking into the
direction of Baker.
“It’s our prop.” Bakaer says.
The room explodes in an atomic whiff of hormones
laughing.
The room explodes and we are gone.
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