The teachers were the easiest.  It is possible it was more their chronological order in my life, rather than some instinctive stupidity on their behalf, that leads me to this statement. One must leave the options open.  If inclined I would change the opening but no. Only the stupid correct their course for a wise man would surely know the path and the practicality of its completion.  Half-done is undone.

School was a home for simpletons and followers.  The institution itself preys on ignorance to fulfill purpose like distillers preying on sobriety.  I walked down the hall holding the hand of my porcine keeper.  She was a vile creature with a stinging perfume habit and misshapen eyebrows.  I waddled next to her with saliva collecting in the wrinkles of my pained smiles.  I was fortunate to be born with clamminess as a characteristic which made touching me uncomfortable.  I twisted my head to smile at her and plainly saw her embarrassment.

“I’m scared mama beans, can you stay until tomorrow with me? I’m scared. Where’s the bathroom?”

I soiled myself as we rounded the corner.

“Oh baby, no.  I wisht I could but I can’t.  The teacher gone be up here just, right here.  Child did you mess yourself?”

“I’m scared mama beans, can you stay tomorrow to?  Where’s the bathroom?”

The teacher was by the door.  She was short and smelled of iron.  Her fat shiny face gave me the pity/love smile.  The pity/love smile was a sign of stupidity.

“Well who is this handsome fellow?” She exclaimed in false joy

Mama Beans told her my name.

“I’m scared mama beans, where’s the bathroom? Can I say until tomorrow with mama beans, I’m scared Mama Beans.  Where’s the bathroom tomorrow?”

They talked briefly and I was ushered into the classroom. There I found the ones called M.R.s.  Mental Retards.  It was beautiful to see these innocents drooling, gazing out of windows or jerking their necks about as chickens.  If their god cared such would not be the case.  But it doesn’t care, this god.  It provides nature and the by-products of that nature are victims of all creation.  Well, to the stupid at least.  I know there is no god or nature or purpose outside that which a wise man chooses.  The wise man must hide from this god, this nature and this purpose created by the stupidity of genetic near-misses and pity/love smiles.

Two years before I was eight years old and on the path to righteous ignorance so appealing to stupid people. My academic scores were higher than normal, my parents were proud (Such selfishness! Proud of something to which you added nothing but genetic code!) No one liked me and I liked no one.  I heard the teacher say I played ‘at’ other children but not with them.  She said this with a pity/love smile.  Mother offered an embarrassed pity/love smile.  My Father was absent but never missed.  I have no interest in games or boy activities as such.  A stupid society is one in which individualism is heralded but social sports and teamwork are rewarded. Inconsistency is the hobgoblin of stupid people.  Half done is undone.

It was the first day of school last year when I was pushed.  I was then nine years old if the math is too difficult.  I have done my best to construct this missive so that anyone may comprehend and keep up.  I have no more belief in you than I do the god you believe made you.  People are monsters created in a black and white lab of late night scientists.  This brain moved into that skull with no separation or independence.  A sheep’s brain, a cockroach’s soul, a stolen body. Tortured worker ants following an unseen path towards a purpose they hope to see only after death.  Stupid.

I was coming off the school bus that day when the kid pushed me.  He was a chubby kid with developing acne and halitosis so bad his Mother only kissed him on the cheek.  I was bending down to tie my shoe while standing the bus exit steps when he pushed me.  As I fell, the plan was hatched.  The mind works faster than physics.

When the teacher arrived my speech was slurred.  Kids were laughing.  To be honest-the only worthy goal of a wise man-I did see one child who seemed concerned for me.  Her smile was not a pity/love smile and she was not laughing at all.  As I recall that moment I find only one word fitting to describe her smile.  Kind.

I cried out with a garbled scream in imitation of John Merrick.  Kids laughed louder and the teacher pulled me to her bosom.  She moved me to the nurse’s office.

“Mama Beans” I said. “Mama Beans. I need to use the bathroom.”  Her face was twisted and confused and pity/love smile died as I soiled myself.

“Call his parents.” The nurse said.

“His Father isn’t answering. Wait.  Hello, yes sir. I’m calling from…wrong number? I’m sorry.”  The secretary hung up.

Mother never arrived.  I sat and sat in the office waiting but she never arrived.  A police officer came by to talk to the principal.  Everyone began to cry or say, oh my god, no.  How can that happen?

I fell asleep.  The nurse woke me up.

“You can’t fall asleep.  You’ll fall into a coma.”  This isn’t how head injuries work in most case but being an educated woman I felt obliged to forgive her ignorance.  My patience didn’t last long.

“Mama Beans, I need to use the bathroom.”

I remember sitting in the Principal’s office when a black woman showed up.  I had never seen her. She spoke quietly with the principal about “the poor child’s situation” and the Principal nodded.

“It’s God will for that poor woman to die in that accident, like it’s his will this boy is…special.”

“Where is Mama Beans?” I asked.

“I’m here baby child, Mama Beans is here.” She reached over. She wasn’t a teacher. She wasn’t Mother. Her hand felt good on mine.

“Mama Beans, I’m hungry.”

A wise man is born with purpose and the reasoning to understand purpose.  Not the frail purpose of stupid people around society, money, power, fame, justice or any religious fulfillment. Purpose is for the wise. All else is stupid.

There was a kid in my new class.  (Within the story we are now back at the beginning in time and space.) His name was Marvin.  Marvin looked out the window most days while teacher tried to keep his attention with tricks and pity/love smiles.  Marvin kept looking out the window.  He was cross-eyed and chair bound with this habit of belching whenever spoken to.  I never spoke to Marvin.

Each day mama beans dropped me off and teacher offered the pity/love smile. We sat in our room coloring and learning how to tie our shoes.  Age didn’t matter in our room much; MRs are all the same age.   Marvin stared out the window.  This one kid, I didn’t care his name, would piss himself every day.  Teacher said he was pushed off a bus once and hit his head. Stupid kid can’t stand up.

The wise man knows his purpose and so the day came for me to see mine.  When you see your purpose it is up close and honest.  The most honest thing is purpose.  Marvin was looking out the window.  Teacher left the room.  We had another teacher there but she was young and didn’t seem to notice much what we did.  Her pity/love smiles were the worst.  Her façade as wet tissue in a wind, she would look at a black toy in her hand.  Teacher was gone.  I tell you this so purpose is easier to see.

I stood up slowly and waddled over to Marvin and hit him in the face.  I twisted to see black toy teacher look up.  Marvin made no sound.  He looked out the window.  Black toy teacher screamed my name and came toward me when somehow she fell.  I think the piss himself kid tripped her with a rope.  How did he know what path she would take?  He was a wise man, I think now.  A wise man knows his path.  She screamed about her knee as kids moaned or laughed or sat in their seat coloring.

I slapped Marvin three more times before he made a sound.  He squealed like a hurt cat.  I spit at him but nothing came out so I hit him again. Black toy teacher was up now.  She came towards me fast and I saw images of car crashes in her teeth.  Mother screaming under metal as someone sent of for the Principal and wanted to know why that dumb kid didn’t tie his shoe later. Her mouth morphed into fangs of fiery steel, her hair twisting into electric wires.  Some kid moved Marvin away. I wondered where this Monster came from when I screamed,


“You little shit, what the hell?” Black toy teacher said.

She was within range so I waddled forward quickly and picked her up.  I turned us towards the window and lunged forward.  I heard her scream as the glass gave way and we began to fall.  I could see the playground in the distance.  It was fun to see the world like birds see it.

I sit by a window now.  My legs no longer work.  Mama Beans comes by sometimes but not as often as she did years ago.  Black toy teacher, I’m told by the stupid people around me, slept for about three months before she gave up. I smiled when they told me.

A wise man rejoices in a purpose complete.