What the Hell Did She Just Say?

As a young lad growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, my parents decided my best chance at success was to go to private schools in an effort to obtain a semi-decent education. Since there weren't a whole hell of a lot of military schools in town, Catholic schools were the way to go. So from the day I entered Preschool until I graduated High School, I was surrounded by nuns, priests and a whole lot of overbearing laymen, all trying their best to ensure I was on the path to fire and brimstone, while receiving the best education money can buy.

As with most folks who've seen their best years come and go, the bulk of high school was a blur. Things happened and friends disappeared so fast, I figured a major vortex opened in the space-time continuum that just sucked people through, never to be seen again. And I was largely alright with that because most folks I went to high school with were rather cliquish and pretentious, two traits I haven't got a whole lot of use for.

But my sophomore year was by far one of the best, if for no other reason than Sister Lucine, a nun in her early 70's.

Sister Lucine was not present within the school during my freshman year. Apparently, she was taking a sabbatical while receiving treatment for alcohol dependence. No joke. Let's think about that for a moment: A 70 year old nun was getting help because she liked to nip at the bottle more often than might be socially acceptable.

I had her for two classes, Chemistry and Geometry. Geometry wasn't too bad. It was just after lunch and that particular class had every degenerate asshole in my class. It actually made me look like a prince in comparison.

But that Chem class...

Chemistry was during the first period, at 6:30am. Name me one 15 year old that's even remotely cognizant of the world around him at 6:30am. You can't, can you? Neither can I.

That class saw me sleeping through the majority of it on my lab stool and ignoring the rest. Sister Lucine immediately didn't like me, and that was ok. She didn't exactly sit at the top of Mt. Olympus for me either, so it was a fine working relationship.

One day, while I was dozing and Sister Lucine was yammering away about something or other, I was tapped on the back by two girls that sat behind me. Yvonne and Michelle were both good friends of mine. I say "good", but I really wonder how "good". I asked what it was they wanted.

"Can you ask Sister Lucine when we're getting our tests back?" Yvonne asked. We had taken a test the week before and these two bookish gals were concerned about their grades. But it did beg a question from me too.

"Why don't you ask? Your mouths work perfectly fine," I yawned sleepily.

Yvonne replied, "Because she already hates you. Why make her hate us too? Please? Take one for the team."

Fine. I raise my hand while Sister Lucine has her back to the class and is writing on the chalkboard. "Sister! Sister Lucine! When are we getting our tests back?"

Remember when I mentioned how I was dozing and Sister Lucine was yammering about something? Evidently, that "something" was in regards to our test. I had been set up by Yvonne and Michelle, the two temptresses with large boobs. Damn them.

I knew this because, just as soon as I asked the question, Sister Lucine dropped the chalk to the floor, spun around Exorcist-style and glared at me with fire in her eyes and yelled, "Jones! You fucking pussy! I fucking told you I'll give you your fucking tests back fucking tomorrow!"

You could've heard a pin drop in the class. Did she just call me a "fucking pussy"? After about 5 seconds of complete silence, I lost it. I literally fell off of my lab stool, onto the hard marble floor and cackled maniacally, causing other students in the class to lose their minds as well. Sister Lucine stormed out of the class and slammed the door behind her. We laughed hard for about 5 straight minutes.

When things finally settled down, she returned, quietly sat at her desk and reached for her coffee cup. She opened a desk drawer and pulled something out. She poured whatever it was that was in her desk into her coffee cup and took a long pull, with a relaxed look about her.

Sister Lucine didn't return to the school during my junior or senior years. Rumor had it she either retired or returned to alcohol rehab. Either way, I still hold the title as being the only student in my high school's history to have ever been called a "fucking pussy" by a nun.