Fall in May

~23~ Wait, so what happened again, last yesterday?

"You may not be interested in the dialectic, but the dialectic is interested in you." ~ Leon Trotsky 

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After another morning of uneventful Important Announcements in homeroom with Or'sir. I drop May off at her Trainspotting number's class, and confirm our standing lunch date. Then off to drone thru my own number songs with Singh-a-Long. I have come to see that the big man in the turban is way-way smarter than his students. But unlike Or'sir he actually tries to teach us up, instead of put us down.  

So after numbers I roll into English early and catch Butchy staring out the windows at all the open air. Probably hating on nature again, but for what now? After the way we left things at Da Frost"yesterday, I am still a little concerned, that me and The Butcher are not all "Peaced out" as promised. So before Or'sir can slither in and seize control of the day, I make the smart choice and slide into my seat without giving the monster his good morning hug.

"Zup, Butchy." I side-eye the monster cautiously.  

"Hey, Deenz." Butch finally snaps out of his special hate place, notices me and throws me a chin checks me back.  

Okay, so we are back to "Deenz" again? Not really sure if that is back to our old new normal or something else entirely?

"So you cool today, or what?" I poke the monster cautiously.

"Uh huh." Butchy scowls slowly as if this a difficult line of inquiry for him. "Yeah, me and Buster talked a lot of hard words after that thing at Da Frost ...yesterday?"

Okay, so smiling monster is good, but a monster losing track of time? Yeah, I'm thinking that's not the best thing ever. As to what exactly "talking hard words" with Butchy consisted of? I'm thinking that could not have been easy on anyone, especially the English language.

I mean seriously, this guy is so off in his own world of beer, boobs and football, that he needs to bring his own translator to a fist fight? I can only begin imagining how many actual flocks it must have taken for him to complete all the hard words he talked at Buster. And after having witnessed firsthand the gerbil that runs his brain? I am pretty sure that the answer to that question ...is a whole lot of flocking flocks. 

"So not to be all paranoid or whatever? But you getting a wyrd vibe in the halls today?" I test the waters with the monster.

"Weird normal or weird today?" He cocks his massive brick head back curiously.

Oh blaze me! I just started talking my own hard words to the monster.

"Yeah, I don't really know wyrd normal around here?" I feel out the strange sense of San Fall post-Frost fight. "Only a lot of people are sorta staring at me strange today, that didn't even look twice at me yesterday."

"Oh, that's just that MVP glory shit." Butchy shrugs sagely, like this is supposed to make complete sense.

"MVP glory shit?" I blink back at the monster. 

"Yeah, happened to me before that once time after the first big game." He reassures me of his innate insensitivity for the local vibe.  

"Like chicklets know your name now, who didn't before? And they don't really mind you smiling at their staring boobs anymore." He skins back his wide toothy tombstone grin at all the awesome memories that must live in his head. "But don't get used to it, cause that goes away pretty quick. And all those halls whisper kids? Yeah, they go find something else to know alter."

I'm pretty sure he meant to say "later", but it's a tough call in the current, as I am hardly fluent in Butchering English. So I am not even going to touch the hall whispers kids, for fear of what that might reveal of the nightmarish world of whispering shadows that The Butcher exists in.