Chapter #9
Boning up for grades
I did really well in freshman biology. Well enough to be allowed to take osteology, a 300 level course. It's about bones, no, not boners, bones; there's even a book called 'The Bone Lady' which is great fun.
The professor was a hunk. He hailed from Georgia, and I could just hear it in his lilt. He was broad shouldered, with curly blond hair, wonderful hairy arms and muscular hands. His blue eyes snuck out through his wire-rim glasses, and his smile radiated when he talked enthusiastically about bones, which he did all the time.
"Professor, can I schedule some extra study time with you?"
"It's not professor, Silky. I'm just a TA, so call me Craig."
"Well, ok, Craig. I'm worried about my grades, and I'd like to go over things."
"You have a 98 average, Silky. Why would you worry?"
Craig didn't know about how George had my sister Jessica and I study. Bent over the dining table, we study. With naked backsides. And he whips us with a cane if he thinks we're distracted, even if we were just thinking and looking at the wall. I really was just thinking about what to put in my paper, and I didn't deserve the spanking, or the three lashes for talking back. I really didn't.
Anyway, focus. But I had plenty of reasons to worry about my grades.
"You just never know, is all. So can I set up a study time?"
"I've never had a popular cheerleader be so interested in her grades."
"I am a cheerleader, but I don't party, and I'm not in a sorority, so I think you mean cute rather than popular. Do you think I'm cute?"
"Cute? Silky, you're gorgeous!"
"Gorgeous! Really? You think I'm gorgeous? Why? Do I have protrusions and recesses that meet cultural expectations for symmetry?"
"Yes, yes you do. I don't think I've ever heard it expressed like that, but you certainly do."
"So can this gorgeous cheerleader set up a study time?"
"I can't do it today. I've got to go home and walk my dog."
Those of us who watched 'Dawson's Creek' growing up know that 'walking the dog' is code for masturbation. And those who have read my adventures know of my concern about public awareness for the evils of self-abuse. So it was completely natural when I asked him.
"Walking your dog? Are you sure that's not dangerous?"
"She may be little, but I don't think walking her merits 'dangerous'."
"SHE is LITTLE?" I almost choked.
"Are we talking about the same thing, here?" he asked.
"Apparently not," I mumbled, confused. "But listen, I like, love dogs! Can't I come to your place and help you er...walk... her? I can go over the class notes."
"You are a persistent young lady, Miss Silky. Sure, here's my address."
When I arrived at Craig's student hovel, I brought a huge back-pack. I unloaded all the tools I need for school. Six legal pads, ten different colored high lighters and pens, the text, a companion text, the Cliff Notes, and both my notes and those I had copied from Hal, who sat next to me.