no fun at all.

[george]

once when i was in high school (this is an abosolutely true story) there was a kid named pee wee (maybe he had a real name, but that is what we called him) and he was a tiny little guy that was poor as dirt (even poorer than me, which was a fucking amazing feat of poverty in those days) and he took a lot of shit from other guys.

i used to try and be nice to him. i was never his friend, but i figured he had enough shit to deal with without me giving him more to deal with. i was ambivalent to him.

one day a guy named Winfred Ellard was making a flame thrower with a can of Right Guard deoderant. He took a moment to spray Pee Wee with the Right Guard on the ass, ostensibly because Pee Wee's ass smelled. He then tried to Flame Thrower Pee Wee with the Right Gaurd. The ass of Pee Wee's underwear burst into flames, and quickly the rest of his underwear as well, and Pee Wee ran screaming though the locker room. The Football Coach had to grab the guy, rip his underwear off, and drag Pee Wee to the shower.

Out of everyone in the locker room the Coach got mad at me for laughing at what happend to Pee Wee (he got bad second degree burns on his ass and penis) because he expected better of me (the coach knew me cause i was on the track, wrestling, and football teams--and had helped out with a lot of sports stuff at the school even before i went there cause my brother was a star athlete at our high school.)

to sum it up, i never felt bad for laughing at pee wee. i found it funny, and still do. i feel sorry for his tragedy, and sometimes wonder what kind of person he became having to live with the knowledge that somone lit his ass on fire, but even that amuses me.

i have no line that i will not cross to amuse myself. where should the limit be? and why?