By the time third hour rolls around ( 50's gymnasium, Rudolph Theske, and the largest miniature golf-course known to man)

 

            By the time third hour around the majority of the Varsity Elite are in the gym drowning threes. Patrick notices that if you look at the bottom of the net in a certain way it looks like a handkerchief swatting goodbye at a vessels maiden voyage every time Marcellus Buck drains a three from above the arch. No one is quite sure just how or why Larry-Lloyd started addressing every one as “Nachos” every time he enters the classroom. Von B says that he is sure it has something to do with a psycodelic trip. Iola Clitty has been practicing the Meredith-Elise Willow thing of rolling her eyes up into her skull to espouse her disapproval

 

            Third hour at CLS Academy transpires in the fifties gymnasium which is now a gigantic mini-golf course.  The fifties gymnasium is located in the bottom vectors of the cross shaped school. The 50’s gymnasium used to be the main gymnasium in the school way back in say, the fifties. The gymnasium was replaced in 71’ with an even larger gymnasium-slash-basketball court next door known throughout the school as the seventies gym.   The nice thing about the fifties gymnasium is that it is the only room in the school where a view of the Yellow monkey bars are visible from the upper windows, meaning that Patrick is free to both drool and dream at what might transpire this coming recess.

 

 The floor of the fifties gymnasium is coated in an electric green pasture of almost nauseating neon turf on which internationally renown mini-golfer Ralph Teske can be spotted at in between classes teeing off between the Nativity of our Lord Par 4 and the Resurrection of the Dead, The Forgiveness of Sins Par 3.

 

 

                

            Rudolph Theske almost always sports a lime-green transparent visor that is reminiscent of a poker dealer and skirts around the fifties gymnasium golf-club in paw, cracking lame jokes often beginning with the likes of “Did you hear the one about?” and then laughing in little hiccupy snorts before inquiring if his recipients “got it?”

 

 

By the time third hour convenes nearly all of the Varsity Elite have dissipated, so much so that Rudolph Theske doesn’t even bother to announce their names in roll call. Usually Patrick will look around and if, not seeing Jeremiah the Bullfrog any where in sight, be forced into slinking out of the classroom and ducking into the nearest Men’s where Jeremiah’s muffled linoleum yelps for assistance are heard.

 

Hour three at CLS academy features the Varsity Elite beginning to run rampant inside the hallways and gymnasium of the school while the Losers just sit more or less inert eyed and bored listening to the tedious drone of Rudolph Teske as he shows them homemade videos of his latest mini-golf tournament outing. It was in this classroom two years prior where Von Behren first met the purported now ex love of his life Meredith-Elise Willow. Meredith-Elise her auburn hair very long and straight and is wearing very think horned rimmed glasses that make her look like a very sexy librarian looking for a patron who wouldn’t mind experimenting in the seldom used card catalogue after hours.  Seated in the front row of the bleachers in the fifities gym, where all the non varsity elite students have been requested to attend, whole the main CLS fundraising Homecoming  GHETTO GALA is currently transpiring down the long trophy central corridor in the newly refurbished gymnasium. There is a punch bowl seated in the center of the court surrounded by plastic cups but no server. The punch looks like it was at one time fruity and red but now has a slight green film coated near the surface.

 

Near center court, Peruvian Victor is biting into the twist-tied end of one of the balloons, and then talking in a high voice afterwards, telling everyone around him that he is a spoon. Next to Peruvian Victor, a golf visor Ralph Teske instructs a few of the young kids in the hokey pokey. Patrick reflects with a bright smiled curved into his face about the time Lillian Wiltz over heard him parodying the Hokey-pokey at lunch, overheard explaining to a thoroughly grossed out Jeremiah Noel and a red faced laughing VonBehren that “You do the Hokey-poky and you give the bitch a kid.” Being sent back to Doctor Kennedy whatevers office, having to thoroughly explain to her over and over again that what he meant by Hokey-pokey had no phallic proclivities whatsoever toward VonBehren or Noelle, Patrick who has refereed to neither as his Bitch.

 

Rudolph Theske struts over to the record player, looking very much like a summer camp counselor. Humming to himself as he pulls another Album from the sleeve, he announces that it’s time for everybody’s favorite Bunny hop before another round of Spiritual charades. Last round Patrick had the dubious pleasure of portraying Pontius Pilate, and while he was miming his hands together out of greed, warmth, pretending that he is washing them, Rudolph Theske kept looking at Patrick, iterating over and over by know that he knows that sort of activity will make him go blind, and he was pretty sure that Onan wasn’t included until round three.

 

It was at the GALA held in the 50's gymanisum last year where VonBehren and Meredith-Elise Willow first fell head over Doc Martens in love. Meredith was a precocious sixth grader who at the time had dyed her hair strawberry blonde and was quoting from a heavily annotated and dog-earred copy of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. Vonbehren asked her if she would like to partake in any of the reindeer festivities which last year included Ralph Teske touting Madame’s Briekenhouer’s bull horn, ordering all of the Ostriches and others to divulge and doe-say-doe in a square dance he purportedly spent months choreographing. David Hale and Cabbages McGranahan had already done some ‘do-say-doing-whew-whewing, of there own, my dear friend’ according to Hale, having met outside of class for the first time at the BINGO parlor of all places the time Cabbages tagged along with Meredith-Elise and her grandmother. VonBehren somehow ended up before some weird sort of break dance moved and slipped while he was trying to interpolate a swing dance movement in the dance. With Meredith over his shoulder VonBehren and Meredith performed a mid-air twist landing on her heel like a pogo stick.

 

            Counselor Theske immediately rushed to Meredith’s side and, without consulting the actual injury first, took a deep breath and started performing mouth to mouth by proding his tongue inside Meredith lips. Feeling emotionally frustrated and embarrassed that he had dropped Meredith before their first date VonBerhen rushed over to Meredith side, saw that she was being adamantly having trouble removing Chaperon Theske’s grip around the girl he inadvertently wounded, mauled him from behind, giving him a creeper that stretched up till golf bill. Mr. Theske was seen for weeks afterwards nursing a tub of Vaseline in between classes. VonBehren, on the other hand, being forced to join Patrick in Mrs. Looney’s detention, copying phrases from Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, while Meredith insisted that Vonbehren autograph her caste first with a pen that looked like a feather, signing his name in old English as Tristan.

 

            In between hardcore role-playing outings, Patrick used to joke that VonBehren and Meredith-Elise Willow had literally, fallen, head over heels in love. Literally. A joke Patrick cracks and then realizes that he is once again the only one in the room laughing, usually forces him to shield both hands over his nut sack and flee when VonBehren rolls his hand into a fist and pops his thumb knuckle.

            The music and laughter echoing down the hallway grows louder. Counselor Theske is spinning a curled fist near his temple, pretending that he is filming a video, pointing to Eggplant Elmore who says that he looks like he is reeling in some sort of aquatic delicacies 

 

            Meredith will monopolize the entire hour brooding over an 18^th century Victorian work of literature such a Middlemarch or Clarissa, rolling her eyes up into the tops of her frames every time Von Behren sits next to her and endeavors to start up a conversation, which, for various reasons, almost always begins with the apologetic mantra of look,  I’m, sorry, okay.”