He was a snotty senior and the son of a preacher who wore way too much cologne to make up for the fact that nobody- and I mean nobody- was even remotely curious as to what laid beneath his hand-me-down trousers. Seriously, his older brother Alan had once been the proud owner of the same khakis. I could tell because I had accidentally spilled red paint on them once in the middle of art class and I guess nobody had even bothered putting any effort into washing them. I felt kind of sorry for him after that happened because he went the whole day, as well as an entire month afterwards, being referred to as “Menstrual Man.” The saddest part of this entirely pointless observation was that he graduated last year, and Evan still had the pants in his closet. I don’t know why nobody referred to Evan as “Menstrual Man” because he was by far a bigger pussy than his brother.
Regardless of his parents’ frugality, or even his total disregard for fashion and personal belonging, Evan had failed Gym class one too many times, and was going to be held back from graduating if he didn’t pass. Why a person’s ability to play volleyball had any sway over their ability to succeed in the world outside of volleyball is beyond me, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. People with power are the ones who dictate life for the rest of us. This was simply the reason why I could not allow some homophobic slacker to get away with throwing a metal folding-chair at me from over the other side of the lockers with a note scotch-taped to the back that said: “I’m way too good for u faget.”
Okay, first of all-um- no you’re not, as your wardrobe is a clear illustration of. Secondly, I mean, the spelling alone deserves him a week of suspension. And really people? Even after almost fifteen years you dumbasses can’t come up with anything better to call me? I mean, in some sense I understood why no one wanted to change next to me in the locker room. I was just too goddamn sexy and they were all ashamed of their rather lackluster physiques. But seriously, I had absolutely no desire to see Evan Meriwether’s junk in or out of school.