Nasty Steve

July 8, 2008
By Justin Galle, Dallas, TX

As I look away from Mrs. Coursey's enthralling notes on the "Buffer Colony," I notice something new to the class: a girl. She's a pretty girl. She actually seems cute. Well... as cute as a girl with sideburns can be. It's not often, though, that I find a girl with only one major imperfection. I wonder what she sounds like-

"I'm Adriana."

Her introduction was a deafening screech in my ear, reminiscent of how I sometimes imagine Axl Rose being mauled by a bear would sound.

We're getting off to a rocky start.

Adriana sits her lovely caboose on the seat in front of me. That's a good sign. Maybe that means she likes me. I'll set aside whatever impression she's made on me thus far. She may very well be an intelligent young woman. After all, she's got her hand raised in the air. Perhaps she's got an insightful observation of the lesson to share with the class. "Miss, Georgia's a city, right?"

What a shame.

I choose to stop noticing her until she pulls out a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. I watch as she cautiously peers from side to side, and inconspicuously coughs loudly as she pops open the bag.
She looks quite pleased with herself. I repress a shudder as she chomps the foul-smelling junk food with enough passion to drown out Mrs. Coursey's lecture. The teacher pauses to look for the source of the disruption. Her eyes land on Adriana, who's now trying desperately to get something out of her gums, reminiscent of Mr. Ed. After what seems like at least a minute, she notices that she has become the focal point of the class. She looks up at Mrs. Coursey, and shrieks, "Why you looking at me like I did something?! I ain't got no chips!"
I didn't realize people like this still existed.
Mrs. Coursey calmly says, "You're new to the class, so maybe you're not aware of the rules-"
"I ain't got no chips!"
"Adriana, your fingers are red, and I can smell the chips from here. Either throw those disgusting things away, or get out of my class."
She throws the Cheetos away, only to open a bag of Hot Fries. I think I'm going to call her Nasty Steve from now on. She's too nasty to receive a female nickname. She gives me this feeling.... It's something similar to when you excitedly take a bowl of vanilla ice cream, and attempt to cover it with chocolate syrup, but when you squeeze the bottle, a bunch of cock roaches pour out onto your ice cream. It's a bit of a nasty surprise. How I ever found this girl attractive, I'm not sure.
"Miss, you're a bad teacher. You don' know whatchu talkin' about."
"'Cause, Miss... back in Messico, we don't say it like that. It's EH-sey, not ess-ay! You dumb, Miss, I swear."
What did she say? I don't believe I've ever had to exert so much self-control in order to not cause a ruckus. This girl makes me want to never eat another enchilada ever again. I'm literally trembling from determination to not silence this idiotic, narcissistic, malodorous, scruffy-
"Miss, I'ma go to the baffroom-"
Did I say that out loud? I must have. Everyone's staring at me. "Um.... What I meant to say was, 'No... Georgia is not a city. It's a state.'"
The girl looks at me, dumbfounded. After taking a few seconds to consider this, she says, "I like your hair. It's cute."
She thinks my hair is cute? Wow.... On second thought, she is pretty. Gorgeous even. "You know what, Nasty Steve? I think you're great."

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