I think it’s about time for a messy story…….
Homecoming (m/f mess)
Ms. Kenny was my high school art teacher and she was the reason that every guy in school took at least two art classes. At about 25 years old she was a nice contrast to many of the old timers with whom we all had trouble making a connection. Ms. Kenny was my dream woman. 5’5″ and slim with shoulder-length wavy black hair, and an evil sense of humor, she made learning much less the chore. Through my several semesters of classes with her, we developed a friendship that went beyond school-work to the point where we would often have long talks about anything that came to mind. It was during homecomming week of my senior year that our relationship took an amazing turn.
Like many schools we held a variety of activities for homecomming week, including a pie auction. Several teachers and students were to be paraded accross stage while bids were taken to see who would have the honor of pushing a large plate a whipped cream and pudding into the face of the victim. As one of the better members of the baseball team I was one of the designated targets. Much to my dismay, all the teachers involved were men and Ms. Kenny was no where to be seen. To top it all off, we were all dressed in ponchos and shower caps due to the worries of some of the cheerleaders about getting their hair messy. This scenario was hardly anything to get worked up about.
Through luck of the draw I was the last person to be auctioned off and for a while it looked like I was going to go cheap. The others had all commanded pretty good money from their girl and boyfriends and all the teachers were popular targets. By the time I came around, anyone that was still interested was pretty well tapped out. It was then that I notced Ms. Kenny appear in the back and offer her winning bid of $25.00. She was smiling broadly as she approached with the pie and I warned her that I would get her back someday. “In that case,” she said, “you won’t be needing this!” and she yanked off my shower cap.
I could barely close my eyes before I felt the impact of the pie on my face. She proceeded to ham it up with the onlookers by smearing it all over my face and back over my head. Once she had emptied the contents of the plate, she walked around behind me and ran her hands all through my hair until my head was one large goopy mess. She topped it off with a little peck on the cheek. Needless to say, I had to remain seated for a while and I was grateful for the poncho as it hid my obvious excitement.
That night was the traditional tee-peeing of the school which also involves eggs and shaving cream and other petty vandalism. I was still being congratulated by my friends about how lucky I had been that afternoon. Most of the guys would have killed for Ms. Kenny to take such an interest in them. We were still laughing it up when someone tapped me on the shoulder and said “remember this?” I turned around and received a handful of shaving cream in my face from none other than Ms. Kenny.
By the time I cleared my eyes she was already running away. I caught up to her behind the school and wrestled her down to the ground. She was still laughing when I straddled her chest had pinned her arms down with my knees. Her smile faded a little when I pulled the dozen eggs out of my duffle bag. “No, No, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it” she giggled. But she knew she was in trouble when she I pulled out my own can of shaving cream.
“I told you I was going to get you back….” I laughed.
She cringed as I cracked the first two eggs accross her beautiful, black bangs. The yolk then spread back through her hair with each additional egg, One after another the eggs came down and her pleading became less and less vocal as she resigned herself to her fate. I was sure to use one hand to spread the yolks all over her face as well as slick her hair back with the slime and pieces of shell. “You asshole” she laughed as the onslaught continued. One thing about eggs is that they dry quickly, and she was turning into a sticky, crusty mess. That is when I grabbed the shaving cream.
She just shook her head as I sprayed down her kicking legs and thrashing arms. I finished up the can on her t-shirt before I tossed it aside. After the ammo was all used up we just looked at each other and I started to feel kind of guilty. I had gotten caught up in the moment and I was afraid I had gone too far. I rolled off her and just waited for her to say something.
Ms. Kenny sat up, tentatively ran her hands up to her crusty hair and pulled out some pieces of egg shell. “I’m sorry” I offered, “I guess I got a little carried away.” She looked over at me, took two large hanfuls of cream from her shirt, and clamped her hands on both sides of my head with an evil grin. She leaned in and gave my a hard kiss, smearing her hands around my head as she had done earlier that day. “I’ll see you Monday.” she whispered before she stood up and headed toward the parking lot. Once again, I had to remain seated for a while.