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Thaddeus Duke · (04-05-2019)

[duke]5:47 AM | The Compound | Illuminatus Nation | Old Saybrook, Connecticut[/duke]

”Just eat the fuckin’ omelet before I hold you down and shove it down your throat! Berta, my chef, yells as she slides the plate in front of me. Today is my first day of school at John Adams and she knows I fucking hate onions. What’s she do? Fills my fucking breakfast with onions.

Also she scares me.

A lot.

She’s a large woman and very obnoxious. [duke]”Berta, you KNOW I hate onions, why would you do this to me on my first day of fucking school?”[/duke]

THWAP!

She threw the spatula at me. It bounces off my head and crashes to the floor.

”I don’t know who you think you’re talking to young man, but don’t ever take that tone with me! Never use that language with me!”

[duke]”You literally just told me eat the fuckin’ omelet!”[/duke]

CRASSHHHHH! TING! TING! T-TING!

Yep.

The frying pan.

I ducked it though.

”The FUCK did I just say to you?”

[duke]”I’m not eating this omelet.”[/duke]

”Then do without.”

[duke]”I pay your salary.”[/duke]

”I make your food. Eat it. Don’t. Makes no difference to me. The boys will eat it if you don’t and I’m not making something else.”

My lions. They are “the boys.”

”You’re filled with testosterone, Thaddeus. Too much time growing up with only men around you and all those big tough guys. Now you need the strength of a woman.”

[duke]”But I HATE onions, Berta!”[/duke] I continue to protest with my arms folded in front of me. It occurs to me momentarily how this must look on television. I likely look like a spoiled brat 13 year old boy just being difficult.

But I’m okay with that.

[duke]”I could fire you, ya know?”[/duke] I remind her. It’s not that nice of me, I’m aware of that but the woman has me frustrated.

”You could, but your last chef quit because you hated everything. It took you a month to even realize he quit.”

She right.

”How many chefs HAVE you been through in just the last year alone?”

Too many to count.

[duke]”I told you, start on page one of Drew Archyle’s cookbook and make it all. Something new everyday.”[/duke]

”But minus all the shit you don’t like.”

[duke]”Is that so difficult? Omelets shouldn’t be crunchy, Berta!”[/duke]

”You don’t like mushrooms.”

[duke]”Fungus.”[/duke]

”You don’t like onions.”

[duke]”Too crunchy!”[/duke]

”You don’t like fruit.”

[duke]”Not true. I like oranges and I like pineapple.”[/duke]

”You don’t like cooked green peppers.”

[duke]”The flavor is more robust when they’re raw! Otherwise they may as well be watercress.”[/duke]

”Which you also hate.”

[duke]”Do normal people actually like watercress?”[/duke]

”Okay, that one I agree with.”

FINALLY! We’re getting somewhere.

I take a bite.

”You don’t like seafood either, Thad.”

[duke]”That’s not true. I don’t eat ANYTHING that lived in water. Lakes, rivers, streams… not JUST the sea.”[/duke]

It’s not THAT bad I guess. I still hate onions.

[duke]”Ketchup please.”[/duke] I request it because, one, I like ketchup and two, it’ll overpower the onion flavor.

”You hate tomatoes too, despite your love of ketchup.”

[duke]”Ketchup isn’t a raw tomato,”[/duke] I say as she slides the ketchup bottle down the table as if she were a seasoned bartender slinging drinks. [duke]”The fuck is this!? Hunts! Hunts ketchup!? For fucks sake, Berta, this is a Heinz house!”[/duke]

She stares at me as she leans against the counter top, her arms folded in front of her. Berta’s stare could burn a hole through a titanium plate.

I’m scared as hell and I dunno why.

She leaves the counter and grabs my plate.

[duke]”What are you doing?”[/duke]

Berta leans over and sits my plate on the floor in front of Simba. He eats my breakfast.

[duke]”I was eating that!”[/duke]

”What did I tell you about how you talk to me?”

Damn.

She right again.

”You swear like a trucker.”

[duke]”You say fu…. The F word, like every other word.”[/duke]

”I’m 45, you’re 5.”

[duke]”20.”[/duke]

”How many times did you celebrate a birthday.”

[duke]”5.”[/duke]

”You’re five.”

Dammit.

”Go to school. Rigatoni and meatballs for dinner.”

[duke]”No tomato chunks.”[/duke]

”I know.”

She grabs my soon to be overflowing backpack and grabs my arm.

[duke]”Onions, but ONLY if they’re chopped fine but don’t overdo it.”[/duke]

”Yes.”

Berta places her arm around my waist as she walks beside me.

[duke]”Lots of garlic, and NO mushrooms.”[/duke]

”Yes mein fuhrer.”

Sigh.

Eye roll.

She knows I hate that. I like her walking me out though and I’m not sure why exactly. Perhaps she’s turning into the mother figure that I haven’t had in years?

”Have a good first day of kindergarten,” she jokes as I toss my bag into the car.

[duke]”Funny Berta.”[/duke] She turns to go back inside. [duke]”Berta?”[/duke]

She stops and turns. I can’t help myself as I walk up to her and wrap my arms around her rotund body. [duke]”Thanks for putting up with me.”[/duke]

”Oh please. You’re a doll. A pain in the ass, but a doll.

“Go on, git.”

My first day of school is largely uneventful by late morning, heading toward lunch time at noon. Besides homeroom, there’s only four class changes throughout the day, twice before lunch, twice more after. The morning was filled with introductions and a whole bunch of kids paying me no mind which is a relief. I got some looks, of course, but most just kept about their day either unknowing or uncaring that I am Thaddeus Duke and not Jack Fitzgerald.

I can’t say it’s been a particularly enjoyable day thus far, but it hasn’t been bad either. It makes me wonder if high school is just the teenage equivalent to purgatory. Maybe that’s why so many teenagers feed on drama. It’s literally the only real entertainment they have in their otherwise mundane uneventful lives.

Lunch time!

Thank the fucking god that doesn’t exist.

I have hardly ate a thing all day since Berta fed my breakfast to Simba. For once, I’d gladly take all those onions rather than the almost nothing the acids in my stomach are currently devouring.

I stand in a rather short line in the cafeteria. After grabbing my tray, I try to peer over heads and around shoulders at the food options that the lunch ladies are serving up.

”You’re the new kid, right?” asks a voice coming from behind me. It didn’t register at first as I’m too focused on my growling stomach and intensifying hunger. ”Yo!”

[duke]”What?”[/duke] I ask him as I turn around to see the origin of the voice.

”You’re the new kid, right?” repeats a rather large kid behind me. He’s a couple inches taller than I am, and beefy. Easily in the range of 250.

[duke]”Sorry, man. Yeah. Jack Fitzgerald.”[/duke] I answer him as he extends his hand. He seems a nice enough fellow.

”Curtis Joseph, bro its nice to meet you.”

We shake. His grip is firm and tight. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he shakes another mans hand. Too firm and tight and its a power thing. He’d HAVE to be the alpha male. Too weak and loose, means they’re likely untrustworthy and just going through the motions with a fake smile on their face. Somewhere in the middle, like Curt’s, is ideal. That’s the people you can call lifelong friends.

[duke]”Yeah man, you too.”[/duke]

”People call me Big Curt. You mind if I call you Fitz? Or do you prefer Jack?”

That’s proving more difficult to get used to than I imagined. Being called Jack or whatever else other than Thaddeus. Or Thad. Or Thadly, if you’re the mentally challenged.

[duke]”Jack, Fitz, whatever you prefer man. I’m not picky.”[/duke] I lied. Please just call me Jack. One name is hard enough to get used to, let alone two.

[duke]“Give me a stuffed pepper,”[/duke] I say to the mean looking lady with the hairnet.

”Bro that’s tofurkey, not beef.”

Fuck.

It’s too late.

[duke]”Shit,”[/duke] I mutter to myself.

”Language!” she scolds.

[duke]”Sorry ma’am.”[/duke]

”C’mon, come sit with me.”

I like him. Nice kid. I sit across from him in a booth along the cafeteria wall and attempt to eat the tofurkey stuffed pepper and it’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.

”Tastes like shit?”

[duke]”Worse,”[/duke] I reply with a laugh as I pull out my phone to text Berta.

[DUKE]MAKE DOUBLE! I ACCIDENTALLY PICKED A TOFURKEY STUFFED PEPPER!!!!![/DUKE]

LMFAO dumbass

”Have this,” Curt says as he lays his roast beef sandwich on my tray.

[duke]”No man, keep it,”[/duke] I reply with a guilty conscience. I’m a man of many means and I feel like I’m taking food out of his mouth.

”Nah, it’s Lent. I can’t eat beef anyway.”

Fucking Catholic. I just had to know there was gonna be something to dislike about the young man.

[duke]”Oh. Well thank you man, I appreciate it,”[/duke] I say before taking a huge bite. [duke]”Why’d you pick it then?”[/duke] I ask, mid swallow.

”For you. That pepper is trash bro. I’d sooner do without than eat it.”

How is this kid so nice? And everybody that walks by ends up patting him on his shoulder or greeting him in some other way. He must be that guy that everyone adores.

”So where you from? You boarding here or commuting?”

[duke]”Old…. Hartford,”[/duke] I stop myself from saying Old Saybrook, but it might be too late. I think Curt already figured me out. [duke]”But I’m commuting.”[/duke]

”Did you play any sports at your old school?”

[duke]”Baseball,”[/duke] I lied. I just love baseball and it kinda fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.

”Shit bro, we got a killer baseball team,” he states.

Of course they would. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?

”We get college and pro scouts here regularly. You should definitely try out. You any good?”

[duke]”Average, I guess.”[/duke] I’m not, probably. I took batting practice that one time at Yankee Stadium with Aaron Judge and I’ve made the guys play some pick up ball games out on the field I had built, but that’s the extent of my baseball ability.

Not much.

[duke]”I might, but I kinda want to focus on my studies, ya know?”[/duke]

”Yeah, I get it. But… Athletics are important here. It breeds a trust and a love for one another. And for a lot of us, each other is all we have. Everyone has money or they wouldn’t be here, but most of us have parents and families that barely visit, never call, never come to take us home for the weekend.

“We just get sent here because we interfere with their lives of freedom.”

Shit. That’s deep. That’s horrifying. I get it.

”We are family,” he concludes.

Raaaaaise the Jolly Rogerrrrrrr!

I really like those Pittsburgh underdogs!

[duke]”Yeah, I’ll tryout.”[/duke] Fuck. I did it again. Mouth opens, words fall out and I couldn’t stop them.

”Great! I’ll tell Coach!”

Tremendous.

The bell rings and we both grab our things and start to head toward the doors to go to our afternoon classes. As we near the door, he wraps his big beefy arm around my neck and speaks low and softly so only I can hear.

”Anyone fucks with you, Thaddeus, you tell ‘em come see Big Curt okay?”

I fucking knew it.

[duke]”Please don’t call me that.”[/duke]

”Relax. Your secret is safe with me, but these kids wouldn’t care anyway. Might make you ultra popular and simultaneously hated, but its cool. You wanna be Fitz here, be Fitz.”

He un-arms me and walks off. With lunch over now, and afternoon classes on the horizon, I turn my fixation to getting this first day over with. I hope that Curt really does keep quiet. I could have denied it, but he just seemed to know. I felt it as soon as he approached me. I don’t know if its from the news or if maybe he’s a fan of the XWF. Oh well. I guess we’ll see how this whole school thing shakes out. So far so good, but it’s only day one.

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