My Hippie Commie Days

So, this is Mrs. Fitting's Kindergarten Class. I'm the little jackass second from the bottom right. My hair's doing the 70's thing, as is my groovy tie. My hands flat against my sides. (Please feel free to click on the pic to enlarge it.) Tell me I'm not a supa-fine, rockstar/pornstar in the making. GO AHEAD AND TELL ME!!

How cute is "Sammy Shazzamie" behind me?

And how about the slut to the left of me? With her little white stockings? She's trying to look all demure... Oh please... Your dress is pulled all the way up to your waist. Whore.

My girlfriend though, was "Omelet", Miss Canary if you're nasty, all the way on the other side of the bottom row. She's in the green checkered prairie get-up all ready to rock my world. They had to keep us separated 'cause you know how it is at five years old... We couldn't keep our hands off one another.

I was all, "Your ass is SMOKIN' in that full-length, Holly Hobby dress, baby!!"

And she was all, "Sshhh... Don't say anything. Not here... not now. Just touch my heaving flat chest. And then, we'll go over there and learn how to tie our shoes before nap time."

I do remember this one time actually, Omelet and I went back to my crib after school one day and we found paint brushes in coffee cans in the basement (they were being soaked in paint thinner; i.e., gasoline). So, naturally, we "painted" the entire basement floor with it.

Well... when my father arrived home from work to find that we had literally coated the basement floor with GASOLINE... even around the base of the water heater, which had a pilot-light, and we were engulfed in fumes, I think that he saw something other than our big, blinking, 5 year old, doe-eyes staring up the stairs at him.

Yeah. So, he absolutely freaked out, bishes.

I can still remember Omelet and my Mom standing at the top of the basement stairs looking down at me with my long blond 70's hair all flipped out at the sides, standing on the bottom step and my father was yelling and then he smacked me clean on the top of the head with a rolled up newspaper.

And I promptly pissed my pants.

And then, the next thing I remember is Omelet and myself hiding on the other side of my bed while he was storming around the house like a mad man screaming his head off. I can still remember Omelet chewing her gum and me telling her to stop chewing so loudly.

And then, we started 69ing.

Or maybe we played Lincoln Logs...

Or maybe we played with my Lincoln Log... 'Cause you know... I already whizzed in my pants, so all that was left to do was shit in them too. But in actuality, that "Lincoln Log" wouldn't come flying out of my hole and into my unders for another year, until the first day of First Grade.

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