Ghetto Jesus

 Correlating perfectly with the overhead stain glass window located at Center court of the perpetually refurbished FIANANCE FOR ETERNITY there is a portrait of Ghetto Jesus surrounded by visages of that years current twelve man Varsity Elite Roster in venerating 12 disciples like fashion. Because of  orange-favored  rain that has perennially been falling, chapel was held in the refurbished gymnasium the spring day that the center court piece was unveiled. Patrick’s face turned into a radish of self-indulged laughter, stating that outloud that he couldn’t help but notice that Christ sort of resembled George Jefferson a tad in the face before he started humming out to himself the moving on up theme song, since the ironic topic of Reverend Morningwoods sermon was that of ascension. Much in the similar fashion of the hippie Jesus center court motif found in the seventies gymnasium, there are twelve linoleum-shaped basketballs flanked around Ghetto Jesus like bubbles, each ball containing the visage of one of the twelve Varsity Elite players. Marcellus Buck’s perched above Ghetto’s Jesus’s fro like an egg in a nest. When Patrick raised his hand at the unveiling chapel ceremony and inquired to an overtly sloshed Reverend Morning how, isn’t it just a tad sacrireligious  and every thing by parodying the Lord and savior Jesus Christ as nothing less than a sixth man off the bench for the Harlem Globetrotters Patrick was nailed with the word “Blaspheremer” much in the same fashion that Hale’s Orgon brandishes the tips of his fingers and supplicates for fire and brim stone on the top of the Yellow monkey bars. Patrick was later sentenced to three additional grueling sessions with Doctor Kennedy Marshal where he was compelled into using a pink marker into high-lighting various references to homosexuality inside the book of Job, holding his breath and thinking twice and just letting Doctor Kennedy gay-ass Marshal over analyzing shit hit the oscillating fan, as Von Behren’s father would say when she clears her throat and tells Patrick what the Old Testament protagonist really  meant when he proclaimed that there was nothing new under the sun.The two other items of prominence located inside the refurbished gymnasium are the mascot searing Guillotine located in the far west corner  and  very thoroughly hung life sized replica statue of Michelangelo's David, a gift from some heavily brylcreamed Italian guy who went by the name Vincent, 'The Yak,' Muiriani who Patrick has notably espied  tapping the side pocket of his Armani jacket, looking both ways before handing coach M a wad of Ben Franklins, later pinching Patrick on the cheek, informing him that, unless he wants to witness his mother found rolled in a burgundy    

carpet in an abandon vector of the Nuclear woods, heed his advice and know that you didn't see nothing, kid.

 

 

Christmas circa 1990, unfurnished circa CLS gym.....

 

 

For reasons no one cares to speculate the refurbished FINANCED TO HELL (as Patrick disgruntling refers to it)  gym still contains the pocketed corner that is used as the cafeteria for the Losers mainly—the lunch tables and benches jutting out of the side of the wall like serpentine plastic tongues. When Patrick first attended CLS many moons ago in Mrs. Brakenhardts fifth grade, the entire school ate lunch in the cafeteria with Von Behren getting mashed potatoes stuck in the fleshy socket between spectacles, the then Varsity Elite wedging their used trays into the top of Jeremiah Noelle's headgear so that Noelel began to resemble the living manifestation of a Game of toddling Jenga. Patrick can’t figure out why, since all the other tuition sky-rocketing grandiose nose jobs that have been performed on the central gymnasium the school cafeteria remains small and minute and still lodged in the south-western corridor of the school before he remembers that the Varisty Elite more or less dine in a fine dining vector of the SkyBoxxes known as the chateau every day. The Cherokee Runners also dine in a separate fine dining Skyboxx—which is an all you can eat gourmet buffet that comes included in the tour of CLS. Patrick remembers how Levi Watts got a work study job at the SkyBoxx chateau ferrying copious mounds of barbecue ribs to Marcellus Buck at a poker table flanked with several of his scantly clad bitches. Whenever Marcellus Buck tells a girl that she is his Bitch, he pronounces the word Bitch as though it was spelled with an “a” inserted somewhere in the middle. Patrick tried inquiring about this once before he realized that he was still on Marcellus Buck’s grade-a shit list for the time he told him that duck tape was the best remedy for curing genital warts. Lunch at the SkyBoxx chateau is primarily the only time when the reverberating  jounce of basketballs and the milkweed hiss of nets are failed to be heard from inside the contours of the FINANCE FOR ETERNITY gymnasium. It is in this interval that the male Looser are allowed to attend Z lunch. “Z” Lunch as it is known is monitored solely for the Losers by either Frau Brakenhardt or Sarge Kockout. Sarge normally makes it a public point into bowing his head and saying grace, looking in the direction of Buster Highman, the Bavarian flatulent artist, inquiring if Buster has any hymns lodged up the old beehive he could let loose as a pre-time meal spiritual, then mandating that the lads have ten minutes to shit, shower shave (which, before Z lunch convenes, the lads have been led to intuit, for some reason means eat). The “Lemales” (Dr. Kennedy Marshals code name for the non Varsity Elite Loser Females) are allowed to mill around in the Café Hemlock for lunch, as not to inadvertently integrate with the Loser male and a la reproduce, as in sexually. Hale somehow always starts out eating in the cafeteria during Z lunch and end up walking out of a storage closet at the Café Hemlock, a smile on his face. When asked by a very vegeterian abiding Meredith-Elise willow just what Hale is doing in the back portion of the Café Hemlock all Hale can say is that he just swung by to park some meat, sprinkled with a lil’ whew-whoo’s and thoroughly sauteed he-he’s.  Somehow Hale always manages to complete his full-course lunch time assignation with Cabbages McGranahan plus ferry and additional four coffee refills to the Coaches Widow before recess and the Yellow Monkey bars. A smile bends it’s way across Patrick visage like a crooked piano keyboard as he thinks to himself that he doesn’t know just what the fuck he would do if he didn’t have Von Behren, Hale and the monkey bars; somehow the fifteen minutes for recess is stretched out into eternity. Patrick admittedly realizes that he doesn’t know a whole lot about time space and causality, but somehow during the fifteen minutes, arched on top of the pinnacle of the Monkey Bars, that somehow throughout that discourse time itself utterly expands and envelopes and dips into a pocket dimension of eternity.