Between 5th & Mad

When I was in the fifth grade, I had perfect attendance. The only year I ever accomplished that feat. I was also the most improved student. Why? My teacher, Mrs. C, had perky breasts and I was coming of age. Mrs. C had perky breasts, I was coming of age, and she always wore these dresses that highlighted her ample bosom. She always wore dresses that highlighted her ample bosom and most of the time she went braless.

It was 1980. She was married. Her husband was the guy in the Crazy Glue commercial that wore the construction hat that was glued to the beam with him in it, feet dangling. Remember that commercial?

I hated him.

It was also around this time, not ironically, that I started caring about the way I looked. When I heard Mrs. C compliment Leslie Sealey on his shirt I got really pissed because it used to be my shirt that my mother gave his mother because I outgrew it. I wanted to tell Mrs. C that but Tim might have overheard and I was wearing his old shoes at the time. Damn these hand-me-downs!

I remember the way the other teachers would whisper around her, this hot young teacher, 'harlot this', 'provocative that'. I didn't care about any of that. I'd make her laugh and she'd squeeze my cheeks. She was young, had the goods and didn't mind making the other teachers jealous about it. A little lower Mrs. C!

Why is it that you read of all these kids - goofy kids - getting it on with their female teachers nowadays? Usually their teachers are hot, too. You didn't hear about that when I was in school. Damn these new-age teachers!

Not only that, the girls going to school now weren't built like the girls when I was in school. I'm on the bus in the morning, looking at this woman trying to think of something quick and smart to say, the bus stops and she gets off and walks into a Junior High School! Then I notice her book bag with Nick Cannon on it. Damn this high hormonal food!

So last year on Mother's Day I get the courage up to contact Mrs. C. I look her up, call the number and sure enough she picks up and it's really her. I tell her everything. How she made me feel. How she was the best teacher ever. How I love her to this day. How it's not too late to make it happen.

"You're the kid that wore Tim's shoes right?"

I explain to her that now I have a job, could afford my own shoes, and could probably afford to buy her her own shoes too. And that's when the other shoe dropped. Leslie, the kid I gave my old shirts to, HE was with her now.

"Oh yeah!" I explode. "Well tell him I want my blue Le Tigre, my yellow Izod and my burgundy Chams DeBaron shirts back!" I scream before hanging up in her ear.

First I'll get the shirts back. Then I'll get the girl.

Damn I'm good!