The Borough Boys: Part 1: D-Day of the D-D-Dead

The Borough Boys: Part 1: D-Day of the D-D-Dead

Despite all the activity within the first month of the uprising, I can't remember what month it was. The year was two thousand and two, the year of our lord, and, then artist, P!ink had just had a hit with "Get the Party Started". The P.O.O., or Point of Outbreak, as the special military unit calls it, was Meadows Elementary School's sixth grade dance. One kid, who all the girls had nicknamed "Fuzz" because of his buzz haircut and the guys because of his very early onset puberty, was inventing a move on the dance floor he was hoping would attract his crush, Mallory. P!ink sung on and the CD only skipped once.

The following week was to be that class's graduation. I arrived on the scene a week after that. From the only intel. that the commanding officer had at the time, it appeared that someone had been distributing meth at the party via the fruit punch.

The school cafeteria had been on lockdown since.

"What's it look like in there?" I overhead a cop asking his superior.

"We haven't seen the inside since the third day." That's what I was there for. I was their inside man. The last person who had gone in was the 6th grade math teacher. She survived twenty minutes longer than the science teacher, but if elementary school math had taught me anything, it taught me: 1 dead science teacher + 1 dead math teacher X 3 piles of bodies = 1 hot mess.

At the time, the military figured that if the students were responding to authority in some way, why not go for broke? I was the President, rather, I was to portray the president. We couldn't actually get permission for my title to be the President of the United States, so I was to be the President of Bulgaria. Close enough.

A majority of the story is the same as every bankheist-hostage-negotiation-movie, so why bother with all the details? It's what's on the inside that matters.

"Do you remember that national tragedy a year ago, Dirk?" Sergeant Dirk Ruffin asked me as the team prepped for my insertion.

"How could anyone possibly forget? And don't they keep telling us 'Never Forget'?" Sergeant Dirk Ruffin had the same name as me, but there was no relation or similarity. I just called him "Tool." I had once caught him making out with his secretary in his office and he made a similar grunt to Tim "The Toolman" Taylor, hence the name.

"I'm not talking about 9/11! I'm talking about yoga. Watch yourself in there, I think these kids are classically trained in yoga."

"Okay, so why am I wearing KFC buckets as shoes? More importantly, why are they full of mashed potatoes?"

"Are you questioning my authority, son?" I hated it when he called me son. "Are you questioning the only person to enter that building and get out alive? I think I know what you need to be prepared. We're hoping that when they go for your feet, the food will distract them. All kids love mashed potatoes."

"Without gravy?" I retorted.

"Crap. Call up the Colonel and get some gravy down here, stat!"