I was working in the lab, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
He did the mash, he did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash

Monster Mash ~ Bobby Pickett

🤡🤡🤡

So Fuzzo's fun time has come between me and my need to be with May? Yeah, that pisses me off to no end. And I am an agent of chaos! So what does an agent of chaos do when he's unbelievably pissed off? Obviously, he gets revenge on those that thought to do him and his harm. Cause dammit, my name was right there on the list for May! Then they tried to screw me? Fine then, I'm gonna screw them right back.

Okay, so you want me to teach the Butcher some stupid shit? Flock it, why not? Let's see how you like your trained pet monster when I teach him that bad blood tastes good ...especially your blood?

So far I've just been twisting Butchy's head around for my own amusement. But now I am going to get serious about this tutoring crap. Put some serious psychotically subversive thoughts, into possibly the last Flocking Falcon in the entire Valley of Death, that should be turned into an acolyte of Anarchy.  

"You're not weird at all Butch. They've just been messing with your head so long, that all their bullshit almost sounds normal to you now." I slowly start twisting his head around to see the current in a new and painfully interesting way. "Like all that bullshit is just background noise, like when the TV is on in the other room while you eat dinner. You ain't watching what's going on, but it's always there in the air. But all that noise in your ears is going somewhere in there? Doing something really wrong to your real you."

"Wrong to my what?" Butchy's icy eyes coldly narrow in consternation.

"Your real you. Not the you that they want you to be, but the real one you already know you are." I nod to his football jersey, big number 69, of course. "And you know who you are, you're that guy ...the real Butch."

"Oh yeah? And what's that then?" The monster is suddenly eyeing me suspiciously again.

"You're that dude in the back parking lot at Da Frost. The guy that does what you do, that no one else can do, but you?" Like stringing more Flocking F-words together incorrectly than any other monster on planet San Fall. "You already see your true truth, and you know exactly what to do with it. You grab it by it's lying neck and smack the crap out of it, so it doesn't start lying it's ass off to you again."

Butchy blinks several times as the words get absorbed. Then he slowly starts to bob his head big brick head in agreement at the compliment. One that he is not totally sure is actually a compliment yet. Even though it sounds complimentary, it clearly tastes wrong to him somehow.

"See Butch, it's not you that's the problem here, they're the problem. Because you already know your true truth. Your only malfunction is you just haven't figure out yet how to give them enough of their bullshit back to them, the way they want it? So that they will just leave you the flock alone and stop caring what you do on your time. That's the real 'straighten out and fly right' bullshit they've been shoving down your throat around here." I wave around the Other Library for distraction. 

"So the way I see it, you got two choices going forward. Suck it up and take Orsir's shit. Learn to like it, or at least act like you don't know any better? Or get seriously twisty and learn to beat him at his own game, and start breaking the very same rules that he breaks all the time." I shrug. "Your call."

I already know this twist will appeal to the dark inner ultimate warrior spirit in Butchy. Now I just have to appeal to his lighter more reasonable fun-loving side, the slightly psychotically funnier version of Butch ...The Butcher. Because in all honesty, I am starting to see that Butchy by himself is one very depressing dude.

"How do you do that second twisty thing?" He frowns down at me.

Gotcha! So I put today's lesson in Chaos math, into a simple sports analogy for The Butcher Boy.

"Okay Butchy, has your coach ever overuse the expression, 'we just play our game our way, not their game their way', in his pump you up for the big game speeches?"

"Sure, all the time." Nail on the head folks, and we have a winner!

"Awesome." I agree with myself. "So when you are out there on the field playing your game your way. But then the other team starts to play hard, you play even harder, right?"

"Always" He nods along like this is gospel. Probably because in his weird world of Gods Game, it probably is the closest thing to catechism.

"But if they play dirty, do you play dirtier? Or do whine to the referee after the game? That it's not fair you lost because the Other team played dirty and cheated to win?"

"The games over by then?" Butchy frowns. "So no. I mean yeah? I get in their flocking faces and play dirtier than they ever could. Smash their dicks down into the dirt, until they cry for their coaches."

"So you figure out how you beat them at their own game, right? They'll call it winning by the way." I slip this thought right past him. "But me? I say you started this shit, but I'll finish it. Right?"

"Oh yeah." He grins proudly. 

Yeah, you got to love The Butchers of the world, they make such great police. It doesn't matter how you win, because it's only the score that counts in the end, not how ya get there.

"So take that life philosophy, that you obviously use so well on the field, and bring it home to roost here." I bait the trap for the monster. "To put it simply, you cheat the cheating test."

"No way guy. I get caught cheating and then I'm done for. No game, no team ...then I'm just a dummy and a cheater? No flocking way, flock that noise." Butchy shakes off the easy way out. 

"C'mon guy you know that little Dickhead just hovers around behind us in the back. Always watching me like a hawk flock during tests, just hoping I'll do something to screw up." Now it's time for Butchy to share a secret. "Besides my eyes aren't that clear for little things. So I can't scope papers around me without looking hard. Trust, I would be so obvious about it ...shit flock ...I would bust me for cheating."

"All true." I smile way ahead of him on his journey of self-discovery. "But that also means if he is watching you like a hawk, then he's not watching everyone else? Now is he?"

"Okay, so what? How does that help me out?" Butch scowls.

"Think about it for a second?" I start to unveil his new outlook on academic counterinsurgency. "What is he always watching you for exactly? Crib notes? Cheatsheets? The old lean over side looks to copy? All the standard stuff for something that he can bust, right?"

"Right." Turning his frown upside down.

"Then don't do any of that." I shrug him off and then teach him a little Chaos magic. "Don't bother sneaking around hoping they don't see you trying to beat them at their own game."

"Instead, just you do it right in front of Or'sir's face. And trust me, he'll never see it coming. Cause that little arrogant idiot is so easy to fool, it's not even funny. All you have to do is show him the proper amount of disrespect? Then you can twist him around all day long. Probably cause he doesn't respect himself at all, so he demands that everyone else does."

But I can see that Butchy is not quite buying into all this anarchy, yet. So it's time to use a little trick I learned from Gromit about stupid people. Don't argue with their opinions, argue your confusion, and sooner or later they will just get bored of explaining themselves and just leave you alone.

"Butchy, they're just playing dirty and trying to cheat you." I smile. "Because you know what matters most at the end of the day? Only what the magic scantron machine says matters. Not that little thing that stands at the front of the room running his mouth, right?"

"Right." Butchy drawls slowly, trying to shake off the stupid. "Wait, I don't get it?"

"Okay. What's the first they say at the beginning of the test? Print your name and the date clearly on..."

"...on the top of the test." He snorts. "So what?"

"Why is that?" I smirk back pressing the attack. "In fact, why have a scantron test at all? Why not make us write essays, and then just fail us as he pleases? That way he can fail all of the students he hates and pass any of the students he likes, like Lee's? Hell, if he wanted to he could fail everyone that way, all to his greedy little heart's content. So why bother to give us standard scantron tests in the first place?"

"I don't know." Butchy frowns. "Cause all the other teachers do the same thing?"

"Exactly." I smile. "Because, if he gives essays that would take up his time to grade. The time he'd much rather spend doing...whatever?"

"Trying to be a football coach." Butch snorts. "Pretending he actually knows something about God's Game."

"Right, so what's a cheater like him do? Clearly not grade two hundred and fifty essay papers every week in his spare time? No, instead he cheats us out of his grading time with standardized tests that the test-checking machine can grade in ten minutes tops."

"So he hovers around in the back of the class watching us to find any cheats." I impart some old-world Insanistani wisdom. "Because the one thing that cheaters hate the most is other cheaters cheating. Like liars hate other liars, and cowards hate cowards."

"Ah huh?" Butchy blinks several times trying to think his way thru this illogical mental maze I've laid out for him or follow.

"Alright Butchy, so let me ask you something personal? Dude to dude."

"What?" He leans back and crosses his arms defensively, in case this might involve feeling a feel.

"Do you actually care about learning all this literature stuff at all? Or is this just an exercise in shoveling shit back at them, until they go away and let you do your thing?"

"That second thing." He shrugs, just as I suspected he would.

"Last question, in ten words or less. What's your big high school plan? Like why is The Butch actually here, and not just gone already living his dreams somewhere?"

"Cause I want to play and party. Flock the best, and maybe the rest." So with that said, we've clearly established that Butch has counting-to-ten problems, as well as some serious unresolved self-esteem issues.

"So what if, I just help you win? No sweat, no studying, just let you get back to your happy hate place living your glory days?" I eye him evenly.

"And why would want to you do that?" Butchy eyes me suspiciously.

"Cause I hate that midget, and I can't stand the way he keeps making his crappy little remarks in class. And nothing would make me happier at the moment than watching him bitch at you all class long, instead of messing with me." I assure him of my own self-interest in this. "By the by, that's the price of a pass."

"Wait what now?" Butchy rears back and starts looking rather unhappy.

"What do you think is going to happen when you start getting B's and C's on his tests? But yet you still don't know a damn thing about what he is droning away about in class? That is really gonna piss him off, no? And it will confuse him, and when that happens he..."

"...bitches like a bitch." Butchy jumps in like a good acolyte of anarchy. "Yeah, but I can't get caught cheating or..."

"You won't get caught." I cut him off quick. "If anyone gets caught it will be me. And I don't give a flock, cause I don't need eligibility, you do. I need what I need, you need what you need. A fair trade for fun."

"Before I say okay to any crazy crap." Butchy closes his eyes and thinks big thoughts. "Tell me exactly how this is gonna work?"

"Okay, on the next test you leave your name and date blank on the scantron. Then when the test is over, while Or'sir is screaming at the rest of the flock to put their pencils down, we just trade scantrons." I grin rictus over at the monster, letting him see the future.

"Hand the scantrons off behind his back. Or just drop them on the floor and picking up the other guys right quick, just like as if it was an accident?" I let go the curse of easy-peasy on his unsuspecting skull. "Then you just write your name and date on my test and turn it in, and I turn yours in. Then the fix is in, and we see wait and see what happens, done da ta."

"What if he catchers this quick switch?" Butchy asks bluntly.

"If he catches it at all, how is gonna prove anything? No names on the scantron? So all he can accuse us of is not signing the test at the beginning of class?" I shrug him off. "Besides he won't catch on, because he'll be running around screaming 'I said the test is over, put those pencils down!'. At all the other kids in class, that he hasn't been watching like a hawk the whole time ...while he has been watching you."

"Yeah, he does bleat that a lot at the end of a test?" Butch remembers from many yesterdays ago to our last test, not on Beowulf.

"Right, remember when I said if he's watching you, then he's not watching everyone else? So at the end of the test, he has to make up for the time he spent hovering over us in the back. Thus the benefit of having him watching you like a hawk during the test. Because once the test is over, he thinks his work on you is done. So off he goes to yell at the rest of flocks, trying to squeeze in that last wild guess or two in at the end. So he won't be paying any attention whatsoever to what scantron you are putting your name on."

"Sheeeeeet ...that could actually flocking work." Butcher's eyes open wide as he visualizes this playing out. "It's a like a classic bootleg, right? Making everyone think you going one direction, while you're scoring in the other?"

"Absolutely," I smile evenly. "Oh, and please try your best on the test, yes? Cause I'd rather have a high D than an F to make up next week, when I turn my own test in. And as the weeks go on, when you need to trade to maintain that C? We just call a bootleg, at least until Grant comes back and we can see what her program is."

"And again, why would you do that for me?" Butchy stares looking for the trick. "We ain't exactly teammates or anything."

"Well Butchy, I'm so glad you asked that question." I smile and lie. "First, I sorta trust you. You were a fair dude at Da Frost when could have been a total tyrant. You had all the guys and all the power, and your baby brother Buster as the kicker. No one would have said boo to you twice if you gave me the beats. But you didn't do that, did you? You let me walk away with a better rep than I started with, just for showing up. So a win for me."

"You didn't run." Butchy shrugs off the compliment. "And I fight my own fights. Not for little flocking pervy shits like Slater's and Ferret."

"Like I said Butch, you're a fair guy. And even better, you made sure that Ferret's face had Buster's beats all over it the next time I laid eyes on it. So you keep all your a words too."

"And honestly, why the flock not? I ain't wasting my time to get good grades so that I can go to a cool college. Then run like a hamster on a treadmill for another four a years. Naw not that noise, as soon as hell is over here it's back to the beach for me. I've already got one foot out the door, so I don't care about grades or anything in this place." I shrug back and hope he falls for my next trick, but this time Butchy catches me in my lie.

"Sure you do." He smirks and nods over to Maybe. "Ever since I met you at Da Frost, and even before with Slater and Ferret that once summer? You've been watching out for Maybe like a hawk."

My eyes flick towards May who is smiling and nodding along at something Guy's Mike is saying. Of course, I've been multitasking the entire time I've been running my mouth. Because I've never taken my eyes off May for more than a minute. Even when I look like I'm looking away, I always have May's shadow in my side sight.

"This is true." I shrug him into submission. "So this test thing, we do this right? With all the conditions I named in place? Namely, you take the bitching in class, and you try to at least get a D on the test tomorrow to balance out points at the end."

"Okay, flock it why not." Butchy finally takes the deal with the devil.

"Coo'cool." I accept his soul in trade.

"Cool." Butchy nods nonce.

I guess Butchy is only willing to go so far with me. But that's coo'cool, because I only need him to get me thru the next couple of weeks. Until the new normal kicks in and then me and my life become boring old news. Done da ta, and right back to anonymity.

"Oh, and you gotta do a couple of other things for us, Butch." You see what I did right there guy? We just became a team! Boom!

"What now?" He side-eyes me waiting for the Devil's next trick.

"First thing, right after this you got to go start complaining that I'm not helping you right." I nod over to Fuzzo the flocking clown. "That I talk weird and that I'm too hard to understand? Ask for Knick Knocks ...so you can go back to looking down her shirt when she shows you the hard words in the book."

"Knick Knock? Who the fuuuuu..." Butchy starts his weird giggle again, "Oh shit, I just got that. Your talking about Nicole with the big guns? Flocking classic! Not that I mind checking out Knicker's Knocks ...but I've learned more from you than the entire last a month with the midget."

"Think about Butchy, we study together here? We help each other out, then maybe we're friends? Where does it all end?" I twist away quickly before he invites me to watch another football game, that I won't be ever attending, thanks to May's Blind Date Night. "It ends with us sitting in the principal's office, after we finally do get caught. With Or'sir saying we're thick as thieves, instead of just mildly chillaxe."

"So in order for this to work? We got to be like those magnets that push away from each other, cause we are opposite at our cores." I explain some chaos science to the person least likey to understand it. "So you do your thing, I do my thing... and we do anything to draw any attention to 'Our Thing'." 

"From now on we don't ever associate at school unless they make us. Not in class, not at lunch, not anywhere at school. Outside of school we just can be cool. Like, what's up and later hater, and that's that. And Or'sir and all the rest will just sit and spin ...with nothing but fog to grasp at."

Butchy scowls, siphoning this new knowledge like a sieve but too slow to see the bigger picture. I can tell he loves our new game, but as all good things must do this too must come to an end.

"Yeah, nothing good comes from us talking about shit at school." He agrees slowly.

"So if we need to arrange this bootleg play for you on test day? Just wear something besides your football jersey to class on test day, so I will know the fix is in."

"Flocking classic." Butchy smiles wide in his newfound villainy. "You know Surfer D, I'm starting to think you're a lot, lot, lot smarter'er than you look."

"Funny thing Butchy ...I was just thinking the same thing about you, dude?" I smile back at my new pet monster project. "Now today after study buddies is over, you need to go start complaining at Fuzzy, so we can start the game off right."

"Not a problem." Butchy licks his lips and absently cracks a couple of knuckles. 

For the rest of Study Buddies, we try to struggle through a conversation, until we both finally give up. Butchy he goes back to his class art project instead of studying. Which as far as I can tell, consists of drawing boobs in his notebook. Seems like football, boobs and beer-fueled stupidity are the limits of Butchy care quotient. I make a mental note to myself that it's probably best just to stick with the bare basics with Butchy going forward.

So Dummy Study Buddy's comes to an end with Butchy bitching at Fuzzy, and the Fuzzy glaring daggers at me for ruining his easy entertainment. His evil master plan to isolate Breastbones for his own viewing pleasure has backfired badly. Because now he has the Butcher Boy up his ass, and all kinds of flocking unhappy.

"Cause Butchy no like funny talking Surfer D kid. The Butcher wants Knick Knack Snacks back as his big Dummy Study Buddy! Why? Flock you! Fuzzy Wuzzy guy ...because he does and that's all you need to know!"

The really sad part is, Butchy actually referrers to himself in the first, second and third person when he says, "I needs a good dummy study buddy, not the Surfer D. Butchy can't hardly hear a word he say...you feel me? Or does he need to go talk to Coach about this shit? So send Knickknacks back. Flocking now!" 

I see that we are all good to go, as Butchy makes sure to keep his eyes on the prize. Because of all the unwritten rules of San Fall, the most important one is ...never ever mess with a winning season.