by Rusty Mitchum
You know, growing up I didn’t have any really good talents, not that I have any now either. I wasn’t really athletic, I couldn’t sing, play an instrument, or junk like that. I did however, have one talent. Although it wasn’t what you would call a “good” talent, it did get a few laughs, and laughs are what it’s all about. In fact, I don’t know if you would really call it a talent. I mean, every boy I knew could do it, but not every one of those boys took the time to develop it into an art form. I’m talkin’ about burpin’.
Now, I’m not talkin’ about just regular burpin’, like after you drink a Coke or somethin’. I mean, burpin’ on purpose. Now, to do this, you have to swallow air, and then burp it back up, which is not hard. What’s difficult is usin’ the burp to form letters, if you are trying to burp out the alphabet, or to form words. Now, if you don’t think this is funny, then you might be a girl. I know this, because I’ve never met a girl that thought burpin’ was funny, but I’ve also never met a boy who didn’t think it was funny. By the way, teachers do not really think its funny either, at least the lady teachers. I know this first hand.
Once, back when I was in grade school, I was sittin’ in class, lookin’ out the window wishin’ I was anywhere but where I was, when the teacher called my name.
“Rusty,” she said. “What would you say about that?”
You know, growing up I didn’t have any really good talents, not that I have any now either. I wasn’t really athletic, I couldn’t sing, play an instrument, or junk like that. I did however, have one talent. Although it wasn’t what you would call a “good” talent, it did get a few laughs, and laughs are what it’s all about. In fact, I don’t know if you would really call it a talent. I mean, every boy I knew could do it, but not every one of those boys took the time to develop it into an art form. I’m talkin’ about burpin’.
Now, I’m not talkin’ about just regular burpin’, like after you drink a Coke or somethin’. I mean, burpin’ on purpose. Now, to do this, you have to swallow air, and then burp it back up, which is not hard. What’s difficult is usin’ the burp to form letters, if you are trying to burp out the alphabet, or to form words. Now, if you don’t think this is funny, then you might be a girl. I know this, because I’ve never met a girl that thought burpin’ was funny, but I’ve also never met a boy who didn’t think it was funny. By the way, teachers do not really think its funny either, at least the lady teachers. I know this first hand.
Once, back when I was in grade school, I was sittin’ in class, lookin’ out the window wishin’ I was anywhere but where I was, when the teacher called my name.
“Rusty,” she said. “What would you say about that?”
“Ma’am?” I asked. You were required to say Ma’am and stuff like that back then. I think it was the law.
“I asked what you would say about the question Sally asked,” she said.
“What’d Sally say?” I asked.
“Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Ma’am?”
Her eyes narrowed and gave me one of “those looks” that women learn the day after they are born.
“Pay attention,” she said, and then she started asking someone else something.
I was bored, so I swallowed a little air and then leaned up over my desk top to where my head was right behind the head of the boy who was in the desk in front of me. I burped out one word. “Sally”.
Mark, the boy, dropped his head and snickered. I swallowed some more air, and then the teacher looked over at me. I leaned back in an upright position. When she turned back, the air I had swallowed decided to go down instead of up, and it caused my stomach to growl. This caused Mark to snort, trying to suppress a laugh. Well, I swallowed some more air, and my stomach growled again. Mark was shakin’. I was tryin’ not to laugh myself. There’s nothin’ that draws the ire of a teacher than to see someone smilin’. They think you’re up to somethin’, which is usually right. I swallowed some more air. This time, the growl was drawn out in a long agonizin’ rumble. Mark laid his head on the desk and looked like he was havin’ a fit.
It was at this time, that the teacher decided it was time for the class to recite Bible verses. Yes, back then, we recited Bible verses in school. This was back before God had been kicked out of public schools. Every day she’d have us stand up and recite a Bible verse. The girls were better at this than the boys. They would recite long ones which would get an approving nod from the teacher. The boys, on the other hand, would hem haw and finally somethin’ that sounded somewhat Biblical would come out. Most of the time, the boys would just stand up and say “Jesus wept”, which is the shortest verse in the Bible. Usually only two or three boys could get away with recitin’ this verse before the teacher got mad and put a stop to it.
“Okay,” said the teacher, “let’s hear some Bible verses. Who wants to be first?”
Every girl in class threw up their hand. Every boy slumped down in his desk.
“How about you Rusty,” she said. She had a little smile on her face, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It had a little evil tint to it.
I stood up. I decided since I was the first boy to recite, I could get away with the shortest verse of the Bible, so I opened my mouth to say it, but somethin’ strange happened. You know all that air I swallowed? Well, it decided that this was the time it would make its reentry into the world. Oh, I got Jesus out alright, but the word wept came out in a loud long drawn out burp.
My hand shot up to my mouth. This was bad. Even I knew that. Mark had fallen onto the floor. Every boy in class was laughin’. Every girl had a look of horror on their face. The teacher had the same look as the girls, but it was multiplied a million times.
The next thing I knew I was bein’ dragged down the hall by my ear. I was thrown into a chair outside the principal’s office, and the teacher disappeared through his door, enterin’ without even knockin’. Through the door, I could hear her tellin’ the principal what had happened. Then I heard words like heathen, and blasphemous, but I didn’t know what they meant. Then I heard her say somethin’ about me endin’ up in the bad place, only she didn’t say the bad place, she said the word. Up until then, I’d never heard anybody say that word except preachers. They were the only ones that were legally able to say that word and not end up in that place.
Finally, she emerged from the office, looked at me like I was the lowest slime on earth, huffed, and then walked away. As I watched her walk away, I was aware of someone lookin’ at me. I turned my head and there was the principal, Mr. Hanson. I swallowed hard.
“It was an accident,” I said. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Honest.”
He smiled at me and asked me into his office. I didn’t know if I would be goin’ to the bad place in the future, but I was pretty sure it couldn’t be any worse than where I was fixin’ to be.
Fortunately, Mr. Hanson and I were pretty good friends, because I was a regular visitor. Sometimes I’d go by to see him even when I wasn’t in trouble. We talked for a while, and pretty soon he turned me loose. He did ask me that when I walked back into class, if I’d put a sad look on my face, so the teacher would think he had done his job. I said “Yes Sir,” and I left.
I tried to work up some tears before I walked back into class, but I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing which was rubbin’ my eyes when I went in. I walked up to the teacher, and without lookin’ at her I told her I was sorry. I turned and walked back to my desk and put my head down on it. I could feel Mark lookin’ at me. I swallowed some air and lifted my head, and burped, “Sally”.
It’s all about the laughs, Man.
“I asked what you would say about the question Sally asked,” she said.
“What’d Sally say?” I asked.
“Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Ma’am?”
Her eyes narrowed and gave me one of “those looks” that women learn the day after they are born.
“Pay attention,” she said, and then she started asking someone else something.
I was bored, so I swallowed a little air and then leaned up over my desk top to where my head was right behind the head of the boy who was in the desk in front of me. I burped out one word. “Sally”.
Mark, the boy, dropped his head and snickered. I swallowed some more air, and then the teacher looked over at me. I leaned back in an upright position. When she turned back, the air I had swallowed decided to go down instead of up, and it caused my stomach to growl. This caused Mark to snort, trying to suppress a laugh. Well, I swallowed some more air, and my stomach growled again. Mark was shakin’. I was tryin’ not to laugh myself. There’s nothin’ that draws the ire of a teacher than to see someone smilin’. They think you’re up to somethin’, which is usually right. I swallowed some more air. This time, the growl was drawn out in a long agonizin’ rumble. Mark laid his head on the desk and looked like he was havin’ a fit.
It was at this time, that the teacher decided it was time for the class to recite Bible verses. Yes, back then, we recited Bible verses in school. This was back before God had been kicked out of public schools. Every day she’d have us stand up and recite a Bible verse. The girls were better at this than the boys. They would recite long ones which would get an approving nod from the teacher. The boys, on the other hand, would hem haw and finally somethin’ that sounded somewhat Biblical would come out. Most of the time, the boys would just stand up and say “Jesus wept”, which is the shortest verse in the Bible. Usually only two or three boys could get away with recitin’ this verse before the teacher got mad and put a stop to it.
“Okay,” said the teacher, “let’s hear some Bible verses. Who wants to be first?”
Every girl in class threw up their hand. Every boy slumped down in his desk.
“How about you Rusty,” she said. She had a little smile on her face, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It had a little evil tint to it.
I stood up. I decided since I was the first boy to recite, I could get away with the shortest verse of the Bible, so I opened my mouth to say it, but somethin’ strange happened. You know all that air I swallowed? Well, it decided that this was the time it would make its reentry into the world. Oh, I got Jesus out alright, but the word wept came out in a loud long drawn out burp.
My hand shot up to my mouth. This was bad. Even I knew that. Mark had fallen onto the floor. Every boy in class was laughin’. Every girl had a look of horror on their face. The teacher had the same look as the girls, but it was multiplied a million times.
The next thing I knew I was bein’ dragged down the hall by my ear. I was thrown into a chair outside the principal’s office, and the teacher disappeared through his door, enterin’ without even knockin’. Through the door, I could hear her tellin’ the principal what had happened. Then I heard words like heathen, and blasphemous, but I didn’t know what they meant. Then I heard her say somethin’ about me endin’ up in the bad place, only she didn’t say the bad place, she said the word. Up until then, I’d never heard anybody say that word except preachers. They were the only ones that were legally able to say that word and not end up in that place.
Finally, she emerged from the office, looked at me like I was the lowest slime on earth, huffed, and then walked away. As I watched her walk away, I was aware of someone lookin’ at me. I turned my head and there was the principal, Mr. Hanson. I swallowed hard.
“It was an accident,” I said. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Honest.”
He smiled at me and asked me into his office. I didn’t know if I would be goin’ to the bad place in the future, but I was pretty sure it couldn’t be any worse than where I was fixin’ to be.
Fortunately, Mr. Hanson and I were pretty good friends, because I was a regular visitor. Sometimes I’d go by to see him even when I wasn’t in trouble. We talked for a while, and pretty soon he turned me loose. He did ask me that when I walked back into class, if I’d put a sad look on my face, so the teacher would think he had done his job. I said “Yes Sir,” and I left.
I tried to work up some tears before I walked back into class, but I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing which was rubbin’ my eyes when I went in. I walked up to the teacher, and without lookin’ at her I told her I was sorry. I turned and walked back to my desk and put my head down on it. I could feel Mark lookin’ at me. I swallowed some air and lifted my head, and burped, “Sally”.
It’s all about the laughs, Man.