Worm tales part 4: sidekick blues…
The Duck Front:
Sir Gander Duckalot, the captain and the supreme commander of the duck army was at the helm, although that doesn't really matter much because his seafaring abilities were as good as a drunken peacock is virulent, which is not much, which doesn't mean the peacock stops trying. The ship also resembled you're average drunken peacock, which means it's tried to molest every other vehicle on the river.
There is a rule, whenever heroes fail to do something; it's the sidekick who saves the day. And in cases when the hero is seasick, it is the sidekick's job to hold the bucket. The irony of the situation is that only in democracies will incompetent captains be assigned to steer a ship. And there is another rule, the hero always has a weak point, for Superman it was wearing his underwear on the outside, for Batman it was it was trying to fly and falling down, and for Spiderman it was to marry Jane, which is why we have sidekicks. Like Harry.
“Sir… maybe you should let me steer? I mean we are almost close to the rendezvous point and you're….ARRGGHHH look out for that dingy!!!” Duckenstein, one of the most faithful sidekicks you'll ever find east of Russia, was seriously thinking about mutiny as Duckalot just narrowly save his tail feathers.
“Be quiet Duckenstein, let me drive…urgghh….'tis my ship and I'll be the one to… I forget…to something,” said Duckalot, in a slur that resembled a snake trying to speak without hissing.
'Sir… you're going green again. I really think that maybe you should lie down and let me take over for awhile,” calmly said Duckenstein, while Duckalot was going all shades of green.
“Another word out of you Duckenstein and I'll consider it mutiny! Now… where's tat bucket…urghh…”
There was a period in which there was a lot of retching and wincing. We won't go there. We fear for our digestive tracts.
“Sir, you just filled up the bucket. Maybe you should go eat something I steer for a while…” tried Duckenstein again in an endearing voice.
“Never! I will now…. Uggg…” And with that he broke into a sea shanty.
TAKE ME… to the magic of the feathers on a stormy night
There comes a point in every sidekicks life that when he has to decide whether to remain a sidekick or to take arms against a sea of vomit. And he didn't like that song… and there was a handy bucket. You'd be amazed at the things buckets can do.
The Worm Front:
To Be Continued…
By Tareq Adnan and Azmir Hussain
He bounces into class on the first day of school, beaming at all the people he doesn't know. His T-shirt says 'Lettuce Pray'. He wears a cross at his neck and a Best Buddies wristband on his right arm. This is a boy with some convictions. I can tell, because he takes the seat right next to mine. He turns around, still beaming, looks me square in the eye and says, 'Hi, I'm Graham.' He mispronounces my name, as does every other person at the school. He calls me 'Shay-Taz.' He remarks on how he's not seen me around. 'Trust me, I know almost everyone here at school,' he says. It doesn't sound like he's exaggerating. He greets every person who walks through the door by name, remembers to ask them how their parents are doing and how they intend on paying off their speeding tickets.
Gregarious, affable, convivial. This boy is everything. A month later, I see him on the news. One of his best friends, Eric, has been crowned Homecoming King. Eric has cerebral palsy, and one of the local news stations is interviewing Eric on his big win. Graham's on the sidelines, ready to cheer Eric on. 'He's the kindest person I know,' Graham says, and once again I am struck. The words that come out of Graham's mouth are nothing surprising. What grabs me, though, is how earnest he looks while he is saying them.
He does everything he does with an enthusiasm that one doesn't get to see much. He takes strange encounters at Whataburger and fender-benders with the same air. 'So, guess what happened to me today,' he announces to no one in particular, but soon enough almost everyone is hooked.
It is not just the students. Teachers adore him, too. They can't help it. Graham spends most of his waking hours at school. 'I should get paid for what I do,' he jokes. He is in almost every school group starting from Student Council, right down to Earth Club. I ask him where he gets time to breathe. 'I wish I knew,' he tells me. 'I wonder how come I'm still standing.'
And when he's not zipping around on his gangly legs trying to make the world a better place, he takes the time out to shake things up. I have seen him bust a move or ten, while queuing up to hand over a quiz or standing in the cafeteria or to get our picture taken for the yearbook. He knows the entire cheesy dance moves of the ages. He's even won Mr. CHHS show with his evolution of dance. 'This is how you do the Pancake,' he tells me one day, and shows me just how to dance it out. Another morning, I see him outside the attendance office, demonstrating his talent show-winning 'Yes' dance to anyone who'd care to watch. He does it. He does it all, and comes off the better for it.
The other day while we are sitting in AP US History, Graham turns to me and asks if I would like to be one of his campaign managers. He's running for the President of the student council. I am flattered, more than he can ever tell, but I refuse. I don't know most people at school, I tell him. 'I'm sure you'd do a great job,' he assures me. Once again, his earnestness catches me off-guard.
He'll certainly have my vote.
By Shehtaz Huq
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