The James Bond of Madison High.

"Legend, how many women have you actually done it with?" Hands down the coolest cat in all of Greenwood County was a bloke named Roy Compton. He was so cool that no one ever called him Roy - it was simply Legend. "More women than you can count on all your fingers, toes and whiskers - Astle," he answers with a hint of arrogance in his tone. He then says this with a laugh, "How many girls have you done it with Astle?" Before I could muster up a lie, he answers for me. "The answer would be zip!"

"Astle, listen to this," judging by the tone in his voice I could tell another story was on the menu. "The other night I was with this gal from Emporia for the first time and things started to get heavy, and then she looks at me and says - 'The only reason I am with you is because Naomi told me that you know how to eat pussy.' You know what I told her right after she said that? I said, 'You're about to find out for yourself bitch." Legend was a larger than life character in Greenwood County. His libido and bravado would have made James Bond envious.

"Legend, tell me about that time you banged the chick from El Dorado on the fifty yard line of the Madison High football field again. That's my favorite story!" The story wasn't complete until you bragged to your buddies about it multiple times. And Legend was no exception. "This broad, I don't even hardly know her, comes to town with a girl from Eureka that I wanted to bang," he tells me with an excited storyteller's look on his face. "As we're cruising around town drinking the chick from Eureka passes out. So me and this bitch from El Dorado start playing grab ass after that. She then grabs a hold of my schwank and says, 'Have you ever done it on the fifty yard line?' I tell her no, and she tells me to head to the football field. Twenty minutes later I am knee deep on the Bulldog logo of the Madison High football field. It was awesome!"

As we are sitting there laughing I request another story from him. "Did I tell you about the gal from Burlington who gave me a blow job while I was taking her home?" I shook my head no. "Joe Bob had this chick from Burlington in town last week. He was trying to nail her and she didn't want nothing to do with him. Anyways, she asks me to give her a ride back to Burlington and I politely oblige. Of course, I took the country roads. About half way there, she says this to me - 'I think you're cute. All the girls in Burlington like you. I want to suck you off. Is that OK with you?" Only Legend would be so fortunate. He was one of those guys who could fall into a pile of heaping pig shit and still come out smelling like a rose. "After she said that, I didn't say anything. I just nodded. And the next thing you know she has my pig sticker in her mouth. I thought I was going to crash a few times," he then grabs his cheeks and begins to pull them apart in an attempt to simulate the sounds of oral sex. It was hilarious!

This past weekend I was telling my friend Roxy about Legend and how all the dudes at Madison High worshipped him. And she tells me this - "Why is it that most guys think a women is a slut or a whore when she sleeps with multiple people? And yet you, to this very day, still think your friend Legend is God. That doesn't make sense to me." Roxy has a short fuse a lot of the times so I've learned to be real careful in a lot of my responses. "Roxy, when a dude sleeps with a lot of good looking women, at least back then, he was a stud. Women sleeping around were whores. That's just the way society sees it. Don't blame me. I'm not the one who made the rules." All she did was nod in agreement.

The Jackass club of Madison High.

"Astle, do me a favor and cup your hands together. I have something I want to give you." I should have known better, but that's the problem with being dumb. You don't know when you should have known better. "What do you have to give me Arthole?" I say as I couple my hands together and put them out in front of him. "I promise you're going to love it," he tells me as he grabs both of my hands by the wrist. "Get ready, here it comes," he makes a number of swishing sounds with his mouth and then proceeds to spit a stream of chewing tobacco saliva six inches long into the middle of my cupped hands. "Thanks for helping me out buddy. I really appreciate it," he tells me as he is walking away laughing.

A few weeks after the incident I am standing in Shop class sanding a piece of wood with a dip in my mouth that would choke an alligator. I look across the shop floor and just so happen to see Arthole hunched over screwing a couple of pieces of wood together. His position at the time was causing a big time plumber's crack to show. After seeing this, I immediately thought about him clowning me a few weeks ago. "I got you now you son of a bitch!" Those were my exact thoughts as I crept up behind him. I then swish the Skoal I had in my mouth around a few times in order to build up as much saliva as possible. And without a moments hesitation I spit a tidal wave of tobacco infested saliva directly at the top of his exposed ass crack.

"What the fuck," he says as he comes off of his haunches to a direct stand. What happens next will forever be burned into my memory until my dying day. He reaches down the backside of his pants to see exactly what had happened. He then feels around for a minute; pulls his hand out, sticks it directly in front of his face and yells - "You motherfucker! I am going to fucking kill you!" I take off running across the shop floor with him in hot pursuit. Just about the time we were getting ready to come to blows the instructor walks in. "Is there a problem here gentlemen?" He says in a stern voice. "No problem," both of say in unison. He then asks the instructor if he may get a pass to use the restroom. The instructor obliges. Five minutes or so pass and he returns to class. "Astle, you motherfucker! I had to throw away my underwear because it was caked in Skoal spit. I am going to get you back for this!" I politely remind him that it was he who started it and I was merely evening things.

After a few more minutes of staring each other down, he says this to me. "OK, let's just call it even." I was good with that. He then says, "Let's shake on it." I put my hand out and he grabs it firmly. I then say, "We are even now. No more pranks on each other." He looks at me with a devilish smile and says, "Sounds good to me." The bell rings and class is over. As I am walking through the halls of Madison High to my next class, I feel a swift kick to my ass from another friend of mine. I didn't think much of it. And then another friend kicks me in the ass. I didn't think much of that either. After the fourth time, I started to wonder what was going on. So I reach behind my back and sure enough - Arthole had taped a sign to me that read - "Kick Me! I am stupid!"

The Hooligans Club of Madison High.

A lot of the times it was up to me, myself and I to keep entertained at Madison High. With that said, my old high school chum Arthole and I would play a game called Raid the Shitter. The rules of the game were simple. If one of us caught the other on the crapper, the other would kick in the door on the stall and yell "Raid!" Arthole was a much better at the game than me. But on the particular day I am about to reference. It was my turn to pin him down:

As I was hitting the John right before fifth period I notice a pair of shoes in one of the stalls that looked familiar. I peek quickly through the space on the stall door to make sure it was who I thought it was. A wide smile cracks on my face when I see Arthole sitting on the stool without a suspicion in the world. A few weeks previous he literally scared the crap out of me when he kicked the stall door open on me and yelled, "Raid!" It was now time for me to even the score.

"This is a fucking raid! Get your hands in the air asshole!" Those were my exact words as I reared back and kicked the stall door open. It startled him to the point he fell completely off the toilet and onto the bathroom floor; thus hitting his head. He then looks up at me from the floor and says, "Astle, you motherfucker. I hit my head and shit myself. You fucking prick!" - Looking back, I wish I would have had a camera phone. It would have made for an awesome Youtube video. Now, as I'm standing at the sink washing my hands with a big sense of accomplishment. I feel a sudden force to my temple. Thus causing me to go dark.

When I come to a few moments later I see Arthole standing over me yelling. He had sucker punched me. An instant rage took hold and I charged him like a raving lunatic. "You asshole! I am going to kill you!" I yelled as my fist were flying towards his melon. "You deserved it," he tells me as he is attempting to ward off my blows. "I was getting you back for the time you got me asshole!" I scream as I finally pin him down. As I am getting ready to pummel him a sudden force grabs both my arms and pulls them straight in the air. It was our football coach Mr. Dolan - "You two had better calm it down right now or I will send both of you to the principal's office." he states firmly. It wasn't worth getting kicked out of school for, so I got up and walked away. As I was leaving the scene I told Arthole to meet me at the park after school and we would settle things. He never showed.

Not long after the incident both of us were laughing about it. "We both deserved it," was our mutual thought. We also came to another mutual conclusion. Raid the Shitter was a game best setting on the shelf.

The Fellatio King of Madison High.

"Astle, I met this girl from Iola last week at the lake. I can't get her off my mind. All I can think about is how much I want to perform fellatio on her." Rude, crude, obnoxious, belligerent - the list was long for my old high school chum Arthole. I can promise you one thing with absolute certainty, a genius he was not! "Arthole, what did you just say?" I asked quizzically. "What are you death Astle? I said, 'I met a girl last week and I want to perform fellatio on her.' Every time I think about her I get hornier than a five pecker jackrabbit." After he repeats the statement, I realize his mistake immediately. "OK Arthole," I say with a bit of amusement in my tone, "I think I understand what you are saying. You met this girl and you want to go down on her. Is that correct?" He nods violently in agreement. I then ask if he was positive that he wanted to perform fellatio on her. He nods violently in agreement again. I then inform him of this, "Arthole, are you telling me that you want to suck this girls penis?" He looks at me and says, "Astle, why are you acting like a moron? Don't be a fucking idiot." I then instruct him to follow me to the library.

We walk into the library; grab the big dictionary; flip to the page where it defines fellatio and then I read the definition out loud for him. "The act of stimulating a man's penis with the mouth for pleasure." I then show him the definition in print as to leave no doubt in his feeble little mind. "Are you sure you want to suck this girls penis?" I say with a hearty laugh. "My brother is the one who gave me the word. I didn't know," he tells me with a confused look on his face. The only guy dumber than Arthole at Madison High was his brother Del...everyone called him Deldo. "Look, genius," I say with a wry smile, "Why don't you get your brother in here and I will read the definition of fellatio to him. I am pretty sure the word you two Einstein's are looking for is cunnilingus. You want to perform cunnilingus on her, not fellatio." I then take the liberty of looking up the definition and sure enough it read as follows. "A sexual activity in which female genitalia is stimulated by a partner's lips and tongue."

He takes a minute or so to absorb things and then says - "How do you say that again? Cunningit, cunnigleekit." I shake my head at his futile attempts and then tell him to repeat after me. "Cunnilingus, cunnilingus, cunnilingus." After a few minutes or so of practice he finally masters the phonetics. As we are walking out of the library and back to class I say one last thing to him about our discussion, "Just to make sure, next time you see this girl. Why don't you ask her if you can perform fellatio on her. If she says yes, forget about her! She is too stupid to mess with."

The Mensa club of Madison High.

"Astle, do you ever think you will be a member of Mensa?" My old high school chum Arthole was and still is a real funny guy. "Right now I am getting a mental image of your picture in the Madison News," he said, "The headline will say, 'Robert Astle, local moron, awarded Mensa membership.' Can you see it? I know I can!" Whenever I had trouble doing something simple, like changing a tire, Arthole would always give me a load of his sarcastic yapper. "Astle, I am going to call Mensa and tell them they have a candidate. That's if you can ever figure out how to change the tire."

It took a little longer than usual, but I managed to do it. Both of us hopped back into the car and then he said - "Astle, there should be a law outlawing people as dumb as you. A lot of times I wonder how you get up in the morning and tie your shoes. That's how bleeping stupid you are." He ran his mouth a few minutes longer and then I said, "Shut up for a minute! Something is not right. I don't think I got the tire on tight enough. I am going to pull over and check it out." I pull to the side of the road, get out of the car, walk to the back, open the trunk and pretend to grab the jack out of the back. "Goddamn boy," I hear him say from the passenger seat, "I knew I should have changed the tire myself instead of leaving it to an imbecile like you. After I take a piss I will do it." He then gets out of the car; takes about twenty steps to the side of the road, pulls out his Johnson and starts pissing. That was the break I was looking for:

"Arthole!" I yelled as I closed the trunk and jumped back into the driver's seat, "Go bleep yourself! Who's the Mensa member now?" I threw the car in reverse to put a little more distance between us. Before I could get it in second I hear a loud thump. I look out the windshield and he is straddled across the hood with his pants half down. "Astle, I am not falling for this trick again. Stop the car and let me in!" I thought about taking off anyways - but then I thought again. What if he fell off and killed himself? So I stopped the car to let him in. When he gets in I notice his pants are wet. "What the hell," I say to him. After the statement he looks at me and says, "I was in the middle of pissing when you were taking off. I didn't get to fully finish so this is what happened."

I begrudgingly accepted the fact a long time ago that I was never going to be a member of Mensa. That is how life go's most of the time. Before I end this post I must share another absolute certainty with everyone. My old high school chum Arthole...No Mensa membership for him either!