Bag It

It was June 12^th, and getting out of bed in the morning was not something Ben Telfair was ever any good at. Hopping out of bed was never a problem, and putting on his socks and shoes never gave him any trouble. Pulling on his trousers was a fat piece of chocolate cake. But looking in the mirror brought him difficulty, in the harsh morning light he thought he looked puffy and bizarre. His round face was the color of cool cream, with a small crop of blonde hair sprouting from his head. He had sunburned freckles fallen over his face, which started on the bridge of his nose, and spread out to his cheeks and forehead like a rosy red jelly. Rings were left around his beady brown eyes where his sunglasses had been. He thought he looked a bit like the moon, the counterpart of the morning sun that he dreaded so much.

“Hey, milk toast, eat any extra butter today? You gotta be feeding those big ole hips with something!” Brian Segel would call. Kerry Sandler, Dunker Bunking, and Brian all loved to taunt him. Whether it be about his considerable belly, about his little boy titties, or his pale moon face.

“Bag that shit before you fuck it!” was one of Kerry’s favorite lines. The one that hurt most, especially coming from a girl.

So on this morning, the 12^th of June that’s just what he did, he poked some eye holes in a paper plate and held it up to the sun to make sure he could see through. And tied it to his face with twine. He became a moon of white paper likeness and went on to face the morning sun.