So my nephew Comus just started eighth grade at a new school this year – I ain’t going to say which school, but it’s one of them Uptown ones – him coming from the rich side of the Gunch family.
He’s taking stuff like Latin, and French, and algebra, and chemistry, and governmental studies. Very impressive.
So I ask him what he’s learnt so far, thinking maybe he’d say, I don’t know, a Latin quotation or an algebra theory maybe? But his eyes get big and round, and he comes out with:
“Can you believe – ketchup is free!”
I am taking this in, and he goes on with, “And mynez. And mustard. It ain’t spread on your sandwich ahead of time. It comes in little plastic packets, and you can take as many as you want.”
So this is advanced learning. Maybe when he gets to college, he’ll figure out he’s allowed to use the free soap in the bathroom.
But it turns out, he’s way ahead of me.
It takes a while to get the full story. Now, Comus is my sister-in-law Gloriosa’s son. They live Uptown, and Comus has two sisters, Momus, two years younger, and Flambeau, a toddler terror.
But a cute one. “Comus is famous,” she tells me in a loud whisper, when I stop by to have coffee with her mama.
I ask what he is famous for, but she got a Sharpie and zooms away to scribble on the wall or something. Gloriosa takes off after her.
While they’re gone, Momus sidles up to me and whispers,“He’s charging boys to look in his locker.”
Uh-oh. Is he old enough for THAT already? Somebody better check under his bed for Playboy magazines. Maybe he’s cut out sexy pictures to tape up in there.
So before I leave, I go upstairs “to use the bathroom” and peek under Comus’s bed. Nothing under there but socks and a Nerf gun. So I decide not to say nothing to Gloriosa.
She says plenty to me a couple days later.
“Did you know about this,” she screeches. “The kids say you know.”
I don’t know, but I am about to. “Comus got FOUR days detention at school for stealing food!”
Uh.
“He was taking HANDFULS of condiment packets and then storing them in his locker. He didn’t even have room for his books in there.
“His condiment stack got higher and higher until the other boys were making bets on how high it could get before it fell over. They were PAYING him to open his locker and let them see.
“Of course, my son – the little grifter – made the boys stand back, and he opened it very cautiously. And he took their money.
“Eventually the vice-principal got word of it. And he stomped over there and jerked open the locker and – what did he expect? – the whole stack fell on him. There he was, holding open that door, with condiment packets dangling from his glasses, and three on top of his belly. Of course some smart-aleck kid took a picture and now he is all over the internet.
“And he is very angry.”
“When I called and asked if four days detention wasn’t pretty severe for (as Comus explained to me) taking a couple of ketchup packets that he thought were free, he roared back so loud he practically fried my earring,” she told me.
“Comus didn’t get to do his homework in detention, either. He had to sort the packets and return them with a note of apology to the cafeteria crew. And he had to make a little sign for the condiment bin that says, ‘Please take no more than two (2) packets of each condiment OR ELSE!’ with a frowny emoji 😡.”
What did Comus learn from all this? Not much. He was sorry he had to give the (unfree) packets back because they would’ve been great to hand out at Halloween.
And he learned, from writing the apology note to the cafeteria staff, that mynez is actually spelled “mayonnaise.” Of course, he could have learned that from a Blue Plate jar.
I think his parents are paying too much for his education.
