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Satan, The Lunch-Lady and Me [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2023-11-08
When I was a kid growing up I wore a lot of t-shirts with silly slogans and skull graphics, the kind you find at Spencer's amongst the lava lamps and neon posters for stoners. By sixth grade I was some strange amalgam of a dedicated D & D gamer with a passion for break dancing and an obsession with bass fishing who dressed in red and black and was many a year away from being tested for Asperger's. I was a glorious acne marked mess of a Frankenstein assemblage personality, with an impressive collection of beloved Smurf figurines, who secretly longed to be a Ninja. But mostly, I was happy AF at being me. I think that's what really bothered people; why is this weird little guy so content? And he's way too nice! Moths to flame, they came to set me straight. In their hunger to define me, like most of us, I was labeled with many an unflattering term. It was the early 80's in New Jersey and the language we used to put each other down gave the most power to the words "fag" and "retard". Those two words fell all around me like artillery shells cratering my psyche, but somehow never fully sticking, as the adults couldn't join in on the barrage of put downs. But they found other ways. They managed to isolate and ostracize the little weirdo and eventually, when the time was right, even played ye old Satanic Panic card.
So there I was, rocking a classy skull tee one day at school when the pudgy redhead decided to try and figure me out at lunchtime. "Do you even believe in God?" he asked. "No! Hail Satan! Boo!" and off the butterball scurried to warn the ancient and powerful lunch-lady that a Satanist had indeed been found amongst the unwashed masses. And he was right there, eating his tater tots and brazenly guzzling chocolate milk in the cafeteria! This perverse abomination must not be tolerated! As the old bag of bones, draped in her wrinkly transparent skin shuffled towards me, I began to regret my wry sense of humor. Grasping the whistle that hung around her crusty twig of a neck, the interrogation process began. "Has the Dark Lord claimed this hideous monster child who clearly no longer deserves to live? Can I save his pathetic soul like my deeply held beliefs require?" I assumed she thought to herself as she enlightened me as to how I was clearly a creature spawned in the abyssal depths of Tartarus. Or something like that. My scolding ended with the good Christian lunch-lady letting me know she would pray for me, before straightening her polyester pantsuit, adjusting her wedgie and chirping out a frail and feeble toot toot on her spittle filled whistle of ultimate power +1. Back to class. Back to life. I want go home and hide the woods.
The school year came and went, my friends disappeared, and the happy go lucky kid was broken and defeated, all on schedule and according to plan. On the final school day before summer break, the worthless reject I now knew myself to be, thanks to the wisdom imparted upon me, attempted to board the school bus one last time. As the wretched lump of unholy filth that I am, walked towards the bus, the good Christian lunch-lady who condemned me at the behest of her well-fed redheaded minion, made her move. In her hand she held a small gift wrapped present, fancy bow and all. She ambled forward towards my unworthy presence with a smile. And for a brief a moment, a glimmer of hope fell upon the putrid pile of rotten waste that was me. "This is for you, Enjoy!" she said as she handed me a present! Finally, someone kind and caring who realizes my life is my own and has value. She sees how wrong she was and respects me as a person, whole and unique!
"Thank You!" I grinned, running to my green vinyl bench of isolation situated just above the wheel well of the bus. As I eagerly tore into the package I suddenly felt that weird feeling, happiness, melt away like a slug in salt.
A bible. She gave me a bible.
She waited all year just to remind me that there was something deeply wrong with my worthless life; but sure, she knew how to fix me. Immediately, I clicked and clacked the window down, took aim, and Frisbee tossed that sucker out towards the sidewalk where she stood. I missed her, but it's the thought that counts. Within seconds, another kid saw the bible and was thrilled because hey, free bible! He picked it up, hopped on the bus and asked me if he could have it. He was overjoyed. And he smiled that smile they smile when they laugh and tell you "You're going to hell!"
Fast forward a few years, just after high school:
The kid who was so happy to get the bible, he got his friend killed by huffing paint with him in a parked car behind the supermarket.
The lunch-lady's son became my weed dealer.
He got engaged to an LSD enthusiast and they planned to bring the word of Jesus to Reservations because, they said, "There are good Indians and there are bad Indians who are doing things they shouldn't like worshiping trees!"
Yikes.
They never made it to the wedding. My dealer and the trippy hippy missionary flamed out. He became my housemate briefly in college, sold the wedding ring his grandmother left to him and bought an ounce of weed with the pawnshop payday. We kicked him out of the house after he stole from us to buy, you guessed it, more weed!
He now teaches your kids at the middle school.
His ex, the psychedelic crusader? She became the Pistol Packin’ Mama she was destined to be and enjoyed spending her time on Facebook promoting groups to Ban Islam and Gays and endorsing every other right wing hate cliche. She's since scrubbed her social media accounts of all the vile crap she spewed, coincidentally just before she ran for and was elected to the local school board. Your kids are in... good hands?
As for me, still not a Satanist. Just sitting back, watching the deer graze out by the pond and enjoying an afternoon glass of Scotch on a crisp fall day, while the right wing zealots like MAGA Mike Johnson and company continue to do unto America what they always have done, what they always will do, what the lunch-lady did to me: hand out false hope in a fancy package.
Meanwhile, actual Satanists are now working to help protect abortion access, to prevent child abuse in schools, and to help with addiction recovery.
I need a refill on this whisky.
[END]
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