Whenever I think of my middle-school years (which, not surprisingly, isn’t all that often) I remember Pete, Mike, Scott, and hanging out constantly. Which is kind of funny, considering that I was actually kind of a bully back then.
In sixth grade, for example, I did absolutely ludicrous things in Mr Chavez’s ”Employment Orientation” class – an incredibly useful class which dutifully prepared young P’burgers for aspiring careers in carpentry, masonry, and wire splicing – and constantly blamed them on Pete. I claimed I knew how to solder, and after melting an entire spool of it onto the floor, I claimed that Pete wasn’t doing his part right. While building a brick wall, I threw mortar everywhere and told the teacher that it was Pete’s job to clean it up. I nearly set my block of wood on fire while drilling a hole into it, and then subsequently did the same to Pete’s, somehow managing to get him in trouble for smoking the class out.
For his part, Pete sat directly behind me, and egged me on. When I got yelled at for putting my feet on the desk, not finishing my work, or causing some minor catastrophe, Pete was always there to whisper in my ear: you gonna take that?
No. No, I wasn’t. …which got me into considerably more trouble. But I made an amazing friend in the process.
Submitted by Rich