Three days before the last day of school, Mr. Langone (a thin wiry man who reminds me of a "Sonny and Cher" dancer reject) assigned every student from the junior class to write a eulogy to depict our lives and how we would be missed if we somehow died. "Although, in Mr. Harding's case, it should be an easy feat for him since everyone knows that no one would miss him if he died," he had sneered in my face, his beady eyes searching for any trace of a beatdown.

I had just taken off my sunglasses and rolled my eyes. "I'd same the same thing for you, given the fact that your wife was found by me as one of the swim team members was slipping the high-ho-diddly in her overused fish platter," I drawled. "All the same, I plan to give you the best damn essay that you would ever read, Sir Mouse-Waffle."

That comment about his wife earned me two-hour detention with him. Bastard.

Anyway, I spent the next two days figuring out what to write about, wanting to make sure that my words were well-heard. It wasn't until the day before (that part comes later) that I had sat at the computer and composed a lengthy and powerful eulogy that would depict my final days on this earth.

And it was now third period and English was well underway with everyone going up to the podium and giving their eulogies. Some of them were filled with the usual "surrounded by family and friends" bit that sounded too tired and boring. Some of them even depicted lives well-lived and had many adventures that this kid "would wish that was way cooler to live if he didn't die early," according to the top linebacker of the McHell Blue Devils. Others had too much of the illicit affairs that made me want to spew- note the way that McKenzie Allister was mourning over her life full of seven husbands (as if!) and ten kids (ugh!) and thirty grandkids (I hope for their sake that they don't end up like her, folks. She's one heroin stunt away from the grave).

And finally, it was my turn. "Ah, so it seems that you decided to dress down for this event," Sir Mouse-Waffle mocked, sniffing at my all-black and simplified attire. "Fitting."

"This ought to be interesting," sassed Caylee Vinson, the queen bitch of the gossip girls. "he might as well make it short and sweet since no one dares to care."

I gave her and the whole class a warm-as-peach-cobbler grin, stunning everyone. "Well, you'll want to hear this," I said. "I especially had all of McHell High in mind when I wrote this last night."

"Go on, then," commented the gregarious-yet-snide Principal Freeman (a dead ringer for Jabba the Hut's stunt double).

"As you wish." I took a deep breath and began.

"Dearly beloved, we have come today on this day full of blackness and harsh realities to say goodbye to a young man the whole town of Seattle has underestimated and undervalued. And as the reverend, I am not too surprised by the fact that this man died at his own hand-"

"Bravo," cheered the class.

"SILENCE!" I bellowed, making everyone shut up instantly. "This young man died at his own hand thanks to a community of liars and thieves- almost all of them coming from either his whole family or friends. He had the talents and brains, but his teachers would fail him on purpose because he wasn't a brainless or popular jock. He believed in authenticity, yet his family wanted him to tell them what they wanted to hear- snake oil and false praises for things that they never really accomplished.

"Dearly beloved, this young man was the only one who can give it to you straight up without a trace of remorse in his eyes. He read y'all for the filthiest filth that you are living in right now. He brought most of you to tears when he revealed your darkest secrets. But he also knew when to hold out for the big brass ring in the merry-go-round called life and yet you all took everything that he dreamed of from him because you wanted instant gratification. I'll never know why most of the psychiatrists that tested him thought he was nuts when he preferred to read his favorite books or the Bible when everyone else was gobbling up their treats or wasting their lives.

"But that's neither here nor there because here we are, dearly beloved- getting ready for me to lay this young man to rest so he can be reunited with his mother and grandparents Lillie Jean and Bobby Mack Harding- the latter being two of only three people who saw Wendell's true worth, the final one being his guidance counselor. The rest of y'all motherfucking brats- that's right, I said it- deserve to rot in hell for all the sins that you and your families committed on him from first grade to today.

I stared at the nonchalant faces of the teachers, deciding to go for the instant kill. "Young Master Hardin had no regrets about him taking his own life, seeing that life was never kind to him. But he knew that he couldn't go out with a bang without unleashing a few surprises on his own," I went on, pausing briefly to reach into my phone and send a mass text to the entire school and the Seattle School System. "He knew that on the day that he read his final essay, he was going to be a marked man for death. So he decided to go out with a bang and drop all the secrets that he has seen in the shadows- all the evil that you committed in the dark, children. he then enjoyed his final day at school before heading to his house, sneaking into his father's liquor cabinet, enjoying a glass of whiskey, and then taking out a gun and shooting his brains out. The last thing he saw was the light of justice in his eyes before he would face his fate.

I then noticed the room that was full of anticipation as the buzzing of the cell phones began to fill the air. "Young children, Wendell didn't have a good life here in the living, but at least he knew that this was his final exodus. He had enough. He was ready to go without regret and so he made sure to give you all one last gift- a giant reality check," I finished. "He unleashed your tawdry affairs, your drug habits, the scandalous murders, the cyberbullying out to the world and make sure that you all would feel what it means to be denied the golden opportunities you thought would secure your future. But most of y'all won't care, anyway. No, dearly beloved. You'd think that this was a disgrace to the "Harding Family Name," mud-slinging, and all that. So, go ahead and dance and deface his grave. Continue to party hard day and night. But be warned, dearly beloved. In this life, you are gods with money and power. But in the afterlife, dearly beloved? In the afterlife, you're on your own and the party will be over."

I closed my eyes, head bowed as if lost in prayer. I opened them to find a stunned look of surprise from Principal Freeman as if he knew what I had sent in the mass text.

That's right, Fatso McGee. I did it.

I had sent in a mass text to all of the students and their families, faculty members and staff, and the entire school board of all the secrets that I witnessed- drug deals, teacher-student sexual affairs, doping on the sports teams, cheating on the SATs and ACTs- the whole nine yards. And most of these kids and teachers came from conservative families who didn't play with these acts of wickedness. And I had waited until today to unleash hell.

"So, dearly beloved," I concluded, "remember my words. Never underestimate someone who could bring you to your knees. Because the ones you push to the edge of their deaths are the ones who can posthumously leave a legacy like none other. Farewell, Brother Wendell Harding. Face your judgment in the afterlife. Maybe you'll get a second chance at redemption where everyone will treat you with kindness. But if not, then we'll meet again on the final judgment day. One life on Earth is enough for you. Rest on, my child. See you in the morning."

I turned in my essay to the now-shook Sir. Mouse-Waffle. "Have a blessed one," I said cheerfully as I collected my belongings. "Excuse me while I do my Gisele Bundchen walk."

And I did just that, slamming the door behind me as I made a beeline for the counselor's office. And just like that... the shit was hitting the fan.

I grinned to myself. "Tens, tens, tens across the board," I purred.

That, dear children, is how you set the stage for a gag-worthy saga! And brace yourselves because the next chapter is when Wendell finally unleashes the fury within him!

Dedication: Pixee_Styx.

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