Brie Fly (pt.9)

I remember my mother screaming at me, when I was 13 or 14. I was cringing in a rocking chair. She was standing over me, a menacing tower. "You leave all of this psychedelic/schmychedelic/ESP/witchcraft stuff alone! It's the devil's work! You hear me?! The devil!"
I felt both ashamed and sorry for her ignorance. But, my actions would not be dictated. It's just that from then on I kept my notes, letters, books and notebooks hidden. My mother was satisfied. It kept the peace, but I hated the deception.

I went to a school that was so backward that when I brought a piece of incense to class one day, it excited everyone so much it became a fad. And Jameson and I, being the only ones who knew what it was and where to buy it, made a killing selling sticks. Everyone wanted it.
But, we were always starting something.
We used to protest the price of school supplies, when they went up. And the soaring price of lunches (up a nickel!). And the demolition of the old gymnasium. The workers were simply piling the remains of it - broken cement blocks and old boards spiked with nails - on the outskirts of the playground. We went to the principal's office with a broken piece of block and asked if he knew that this potentially dangerous refuse was being piled on our playground. He told us that he ran the school and that that was none of our business - and then he impatiently motioned for us to get out of his office. We stormed out, ready to lie in front of the bulldozers. But, our teachers talked us into a different course of action.

"Hey! Meditation man!" the screams would ring out. It was the loud-mouthed, low-class girl in the purple mini dress and white vinyl boots. We would be coming in from recess. "I saw you out there actin' like some kind of witch or something. Ha! Ha! Sayin' some kinda mumbo-jumbo. You putting a spell on me or somethin'?!"
Under my breath: "I tried to change you from a red-neck whore, but I see it didn't work..."
"What?! What did you say, meditation man?!"