Painless (46 page)

“But,” the professor quipped, “from what I’ve heard, the best way to remove butt barnacles is to chip them off with a pickaxe. Just be careful of your nuts, young man,” he said seriously, “I wouldn’t want you chipping them off in the process.” He straightened up and smiled at us. “You didn’t hear it from me,” he winked.

I glanced from Romeo to Kamiko and the three of us burst out laughing.
 

Professor Childress was awesome.

Mr. Underwood snickered without restraint, his face turning beet red.

The professor chuckled and winked at Mr. Underwood, “Keep up the good work, Dick.” Then the professor walked away to circulate amongst the other students.

Old Dick Underwood, I mean regular Dick Underwood, nodded and smiled at the Professor.

“The model’s name is Dick!” Romeo hissed. “Dick Underwood! I told you! I was right! His middle name is probably Wooden Dildo!”

Kamiko gawked, “Dick Wooden Dildo Underwood?”

Romeo, the Loco Locomotive, had finally gone off the tracks.

The young guy next to me let out a long, loud laugh.

Professor Childress stood on the other side of the room. He shook his head at us and chuckled before helping another student with their drawing.

I loved this class!

===

After class that afternoon, Romeo and I sat at one of the tables outside Toasted Roast, brainstorming ideas for comic strips for The Wombat. We still hadn’t come up with much since going to The Wombat staff meeting weeks ago.

“How about Gay vs. Gay?” Romeo asked, tapping his pen against his lips. “It’ll be a parody of the classic Spy vs. Spy comics from Mad Magazine.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen that one,” I said as I sipped my coffee. “What’s it about?”

“It’s these two spies, one wears black, the other wears white, and they’re always trying to kill each other with clever booby traps. And I think they’re birds because they have these long pointy triangle noses.”

I doodled in my sketch pad as I asked, “How would it work if it was Gay vs. Gay?”

“They’d always be trying to sleep with each other?” he suggested.

“I’m confused. Wouldn’t they
want
to sleep with each other, if they were gay? What would be the challenge?”

“Maybe they hate each other?”

“Then why would they be trying to sleep with each other?”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. How about Peabutts, a gay parody of Charles Schultz’ classic Peanuts? Or we could call it Peanis.”

“That sounds horribly wrong,” I chuckled. “We’d probably get sued.”

“How about Dickey Mouse?”

“Same problem,” I said, taking another sip of coffee.

“Daffy Dick?”

I rolled my eyes.

“What? All cartoon birds are gay. Why do you think Daffy was so angry? He wasn’t getting laid. And you know Tweety Bird was gay.”

I shook my head.

“Gayfield the Cat?”

“No.”

"Come on! Cats are totally gay man’s best friend.”

I arched an eyebrow doubtfully. “Do all gays loves cats?”

“I don’t know about the rest of us, but I sure do. They’re the only kind of pussy I really like,” he snickered. He paused in thought, drumming his pen against his notebook. “How about Queer Family Circus?”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” I sighed.

Romeo’s monocle fell from his eye in disappointment. “I’m trying to be contemporary, Sam. There’s tons of TV shows with gay couples in them. Why not gay comic strips?”

“Okay. But Queer Family Circus sounds way too pedo. With clowns,” I shuddered.

“Clowns are funny.”

“Clowns are scary,” I insisted.

“All that garish makeup is pretty creepy,” Romeo grimaced, squinching his monocle back into his eye. “Maybe you’re right. How about Penis the Menace?”

“That sounds like porn.”

“Family Gay?”

“Like Family Guy?” I asked skeptically.

“Why not? Gays have families too.”

I sighed. “Do we have any other ideas?”

Romeo’s eyes lit up and his monocle popped out again. “I know! Jugs Bunny! It wouldn’t be gay. Jugs Bunny is a college coed with huge boobs. She’s always getting into trouble because they’re so large.”

“You know, that comment proves that gay men are men, not women trapped in men’s bodies.”

Romeo looked confused. “What do you mean? Huge boobs are hilarious.”

I shook my head dismissively. “Exactly.”

“All right, Debbie Downer. Why don’t you come up with something? You’re shooting down everything I’ve got.”

I smirked, “What, aren’t you going to suggest a comic strip about a college coed who gives lots of head, and her name is Debbie Downer?”

Romeo’s eyes lit up again. “That’s genius, Sam! I love it!” He scribbled down some notes in his notebook. “Can you start drawing sketches of her? What would she look like? Does she have a huge mouth? A really long neck? Muscular lips? Maybe she has a sideways mouth that looks like a vajay-jay?”

I rolled my eyes and my head in unison. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No!” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “Does she have to shave? Have a curly beard? A clit for a nose and only one nostril that she can pee out of? The comedic potential is infinite!” Romeo pounded his fist on the table, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He looked ready to take over the world with his comedy mastermind.

I grimaced. “That all sounds like a bit much. Couldn’t you just make her a regular girl with an animal friend, like Calvin and Hobbes, or maybe Snoopy and Woodstock?”

“That’s perfect! But the bird’s name will be Woodcock! And Woodcock would, of course, be gay! Because he’s a cartoon bird! You’re a genius, Sam!”

I groaned. We had a ways to go with our comic strip idea.

===

I pulled the mail out of the mail box at the Manos house the next day. I had been bringing in the mail and doing lots of little things around the Manos house to show my appreciation to Spiridon and Christos. It was my house too. So I did my part to take care of it.

I sorted through the stack of mail and one letter jumped out at me.

San Diego University Cashier’s Office.

Oh shit.

I tore the letter open.

I’d forgotten to make my monthly tuition payment! I’d been so crazy busy lately, the deadline had slipped right out of my mind. My first thought was that I was going to get booted from school. With Tiffany’s accusation about me stealing her credit card hanging over my head already, I was skating on thin ice. The last thing I needed was a late payment weighing me down. Now I was on the verge of cracking through the ice and sinking into the freezing water.

I needed to take care of this immediately. Maybe I could put some of my tuition payment on my credit card? It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was desperate.

Out of habit, I reached into the mailbox, making sure I hadn’t missed anything. I suddenly had the idea that the mailbox would clamp shut on my fingers like a greedy maw, and chew them off. With my other problems mounting, it seemed a likely scenario.

“Did the mail come?” Christos asked as he walked outside.

“Oh!” I jumped.

“Something wrong?”

“Uh, no?” Guilty question mark. “I mean, no! Everything’s fine!” And the exclamation points too. “I mean fine. Everything is fine.” I didn’t want to tell him about my money problems. I’d vowed to take care of them myself, and I was going to follow through. It was all part of proving to my parents and myself that I wasn’t foolish for choosing art.

“All right,” Christos said. “I’m going to run to the art supply store. I need some new sable brushes. Do you need anything while I’m there?”

Not that I could afford anything. I was beyond broke. And Christos had already spent a ton of money setting up my drawing table with supplies in our studio. I couldn’t ask for more. “No, thanks,” I sighed.

“Do you want to come with, anyway?”

“No, I have to go to campus.”

“You were just there. I thought your classes were done for the day.”

“I have to take care of something with my, uh, financial aid! Some new loan papers!” I lied. I hoped Christos didn’t know the first thing about how financial aid and loans worked, or he’d start asking questions and find out real quick.

“That’s cool. Do you want a ride? We could go to Blick Art down in Little Italy after.”

“No! That’s okay!”

He frowned. “You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. In that case, I’m taking the Duke. The weather’s so nice, I feel like a ride.”

I was about to ask if he’d been drinking, because I didn’t want him riding his motorcycle if he’d had even a sip. But ever since that visit with his dad, I don’t think Christos had been drinking much at all. “Okay,” I said.

He pushed his Ducati out of the garage and put his helmet on. “Wanna have dinner when I get home?”

“That would be awesome.”

“And don’t forget, we need to start your painting soon.”

Oh, that. Me, nude. For everyone to see. Naked on a mountain top at night was one thing. A well lit portrait hanging in a crowded gallery was another. “Sure!” Notice the exclamation point.

“Maybe we can start tonight,” he suggested.

“Maybe?” Notice the question mark.

He nodded and smiled his dimpled grin. “Later,” he said as he revved the bike and rode off.

I envied that Christos was back to his usual carefree self. It had happened almost overnight, like all his troubles had vanished. He’d returned to being the Christos I’d fallen in love with. It was amazing what the love of a supportive parent could do for one’s confidence and self esteem.

(Subtle jab at my own parents)

Sigh.

I wished my troubles would vanish like Christos’, so I could be carefree too. Unfortunately, mine weren’t even close to free. They cost thousands of dollars that I didn’t have.

At least I had my credit card. I could now begin the time honored American tradition of sinking into a pit of debt I might never be able to climb out of.

===

“What do you mean I can’t pay my tuition by credit card?” I asked in horror.

The cashier, a middle aged guy with a pepper gray beard and glasses, stood behind the counter at the SDU Central Cashier’s Office. He said, “We can only accept payment by cash, check, money order, or student loan checks.”

“But I’m out of student loan money and I don’t have any cash,” I groused. “The bank won’t give me a loan because I don’t have a cosigner.” I was ready to cry and plead for mercy. I think it showed on my face and desperate tone of voice.

The cashier smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. Have you spoken with someone at Financial Aid? They can help you explore all of your aid options in depth.”

“I have,” I sighed. “I can’t get any more loan money until next year.”

“That’s a problem,” he nodded sympathetically.

“What happens if I don’t pay?”

“There is a grace period. You have another week to pay before you incur a late fee of fifty dollars.”

Shit, I didn’t have fifty dollars to spare, let alone thousands. “What happens if I don’t pay by then?”

“You’ll incur a hold on your account.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll have to pay a $35 fee to clear the hold and make your payment.”

“You mean I’ll have to pay $35 so I can pay the $50 late fee AND my tuition?”

“Yes,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

I shook my head. Great. More money I didn’t have. “What happens if I don’t clear the hold?”

“Eventually, you’ll be subject to cancellation of your classes.”

“What do you mean? Like, permanently? I don’t want to get kicked out of SDU,” I said with feeble dread.

“No,” he smiled. “It’s not that dire. But you won’t be able to receive any credit for this term. You’ll have to retake all the classes you’re enrolled in now.”

“But they don’t offer History 3 and Sociology 3 again until next Spring! That’ll totally screw up my schedule next year!”

He spread his hands apart. “I’m sorry.”

“What can I do?” I said, panicked.

“I know this sounds harsh, but if you can find a way to cover your monthly installment payment, you won’t have anything to worry about. Try talking to your parents.”

Them
. Yeah, right. They weren’t going to do shit.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder at the people waiting in line behind me.

“No, thanks.”

My shoulders slumped as I trudged out of the Cashier’s Office.

I was going to find the nearest lamppost outside and wait until dark so I could start turning tricks. I was pretty sure one trick would cover my late fee and my hold fee.

I walked down the stairs outside the Cashier’s Office right as Tiffany Cum-dumb Butt-spouse walked by with a pair of her sorority hobots flanking her.

Great.

As always, she was dressed in new clothes, her platinum blonde hair was perfectly arranged, and I expected paparazzi to jump out of the bushes and start snapping photos of her any second. She exuded celebrity, even though I think the only thing she was famous for was being a bitch.

I ducked my head, hoping she wouldn’t notice me.
 

“Well, if it isn’t little miss Scumantha Banana Shit,” she sneered.

I wondered for the second time how she’d found out my full name was Samantha Anna Smith. She probably had spies everywhere. I had no doubt she could afford to hire the very best.

We were walking in the same direction, so I walked quickly, hoping to put some distance between us. I heard her tittering with her two minions behind me.

“Having a bad day, Scumantha?” she sneered at my back.

I rolled my eyes to myself and kept walking, doing my best to ignore her.

“Find any good jobs lately?” she jabbed.

What a bitch. She had totally gotten me fired out of spite, and we both knew it.

I turned and glared at her, “Shut up, Tiffany.”

She and her hobot friends cackled at me.

The thing that pissed me off more than anything was that Tiffany never had to worry about money, she never had to work for anything, and she was still the biggest bitch on the planet.

“Oh,” she cooed in baby talk, “did I hurt widdle Scumantha’s feewings?”