March Madness
On the first day of the NCAA Tournament in the 11th grade I was at home, sitting on my ass in front of the TV. Even if I was healthy that day I wouldn’t have gone to school. It was right before the first tip-off and I was pumped as hell. I had my bracket in one hand, thinking I had the money picks. A bag of Cheetos were in the other hand. Suddenly my phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hey Ben, have the games started yet?”
“Is that you, PepperoniNip? Aren’t you in school?”
“Yeah, I’m just calling from journalism class.”
“They have a phone in there? Damn.”
I heard a voice in the background. It was my journalism teacher angrily asking PepperoniNip what the fuck he was doing, not in those words. “I’m just talking to Ben about basketball.”
“Oh, okay,” my teacher replied.
“Yeah, so they started yet?” he asked again.
“Nah, but they’re about to.”
“I’m going to call back in 30 minutes for score updates, so don’t go anywhere.”
It didn’t take me long to realize that people with cancer have the permission to do just about whatever they want. On the days I was at school I’d often leave class for short periods of time. Usually it was to go to the bathroom, but sometimes just because I was bored. I didn’t need teacher approval or a hall pass – I had a permanent one in my wallet.
That freedom carried over into my senior year, even though I no longer had cancer. Students always showed up late to my homeroom class, including me. In fact, I was late nearly every day, but Mr. Spunkmeyer never gave me shit about it. My friends would often follow me into class late and say, “I had to ride the elevator with Ben to help him carry his book bag.” Spunkmeyer knew they were full of shit.
There was one particular day that I actually needed help carrying my backpack, so I asked PepperoniNip if he’d do it. He agreed, and of course we were late. Spunkmeyer didn’t believe I asked for his help and marked him late. PepperoniNip went home and told his mom, so she emailed Mr. Spunkmeyer to complain. He responded, “PepperoniNip has already been tardy four times this grading period and it’s only the third week of school.”
I even abused my elevator privileges. After a fire drill one morning I let several of my classmates ride up with me. We were already way past the maximum weight limit when Fattypants started jumping up and down. The next day the elevator had an “Out of Order” sign. I had no problem taking the stairs, but the wheelchair students were fucked.
My cancer pass finally ran out at the end of the school year. After my four-millionth consecutive tardy, Spunkmeyer was beginning to get agitated. All you cancer patients out there listen up – you can only milk these things for so long. You have a lot of potential to fuck around; just play it smart.
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My 2007 Final Four picks: Florida, Georgetown, Memphis, Kansas. Kansas over Georgetown for the championship.
But, my heart is with
Go Wahoos.