The story I have to tell is called, well, I guess you could title it Revenge. Everyone in Hollybrook has probably got a paddlin from Ms. Mustard. She was a teacher and the principal at the school. In fact, one month she probably paddled me close to twenty times in one month. I probably hold the record, but I'd have to say that probably all the paddlins that I got I deserved. Those and probably even more. But the story I wanted to tell is about three boys: myself, Gary Finley and Myers. Ms. Mustard took pride in her flowers around the homeroom. And in these flowers she had a lot of the big cactus’. When we would go to the lunchroom, before we left goin back to the homeroom, we would carry a little salt in our hands. So, we’d go back and take a pen and we would stick little holes around in the cactus’ and in the flowers and so forth. Then, we would put just a little salt in them. She’d water them properly and everything; then she’d come back a few days later and she’d be lookin at her flowers and say she just can’t figure out why her flowers are looking so bad. Well we knew! But every week we would put a little more salt to them, so, needless to say after a few weeks her flowers probably looked like a hundred year old mans face would look, ya know all shriveled up like. That's kindly one story we kept to ourselves and we didn't share that to too many. So that's the story, Revenge.

We weren't bad kids but we were mischievous kids. I can remember one time out in the corner of the field at the school, Phillip Ramsey he was a cousin of mine, somewhere or another he got a hold of a tattoo needle. Well, no one knew what a tattoo needle was. Over the lunch period he must of tattooed three quarters of the people. Just about all the girls and boys in the school. And if you look at my arm you can still see, just barely, where he tried to put LMB, my initials, across my arm. We just did mischievous things like that. So that's about all I wanted to get out. Maybe Ms. Mustard will hear about this sometime and then she'll say well those darn boys.