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When I was in fifth grade I had a friend named Jimmy Guiliamo. He was a chubby Italian kid who moved to L.A. from Chicago. He was kind of an idiot but seemed to be the only kid on the block who would take bigger risks than me, so we became fast friends and were always getting into trouble.
We were in separate classes, but would schedule synced times to get bathroom hall passes, and we’d meet up out by the gym and do stupid things like shoot slingshots at birds and low-level vandalization like dipping wads of toilet paper into the sink and tossing them up and sticking them to the bathroom ceiling.
One afternoon we’re doing the latter, trying to cover one whole ceiling tile with toilet paper when Jimmy says, “I dare you to shit on the floor.” Now, the last thing (or the first thing) you want to do is dare me to do something, because I’d surely do it (point in case: my childhood hero is Evel Knievel). So I go into the stall, face the toilet, drop my Toughskins and proceed to squat. The unfamiliar posture took me a few seconds to get moving, but I eventually produced a long, dangling stinky tail.
But I guess Jimmy was wondering what was taking so long, and he started to look under the door to see what I was up to. That’s when the Dookie hit the deck right in front of his face, with a resounding slap like a mackerel being tossed onto a dock.
I wipe up and exit the stall with the proud smile of an accomplished dare-taker. Jimmy at this point is laughing hysterically. And by hysterically I mean maniacally. Like a crazy person or a comic book villain, it was like giant green HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! was scribbled across the room in front of his face.
But gradually, his laughter turned. His smile began to flatten. His eyebrows slid down his forehead and hooded his eyes in a worried, terrified stare. The “HA!”s were slowing down. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t so funny any more.
Like the Nazi in the bowler and round glasses at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jimmy began to realize that all hell was about to break loose. No more HA!s. Now just a few coughs. And then. Barf. Lots and lots of barf.
I was lucky enough that he turned towards the sinks before his lunch exited his face at 35 miles per hour. Must’ve been pizza because he painted the sinks pink. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and says ‘I gotta see the nurse” and heads for the exit.
I’m thinking he’s gonna rat me out for dropping a deck deuce, so I try to stop him. But he gets out the door first and pukes again. He’s now shuffling as fast as he can towards the office, a fast walk across the schoolyard, and he looks like he’s gonna pass out. These three girls are standing under a tree, and he levels himself on it, one says “are you ok?” And he BARFS AGAIN right there at their feet.” They all shriek in disgust and run away.
Jimmy continues to amble towards the offices and I’m skipping along next to him yelling into his ear as quietly as possible “Please don’t tell them I shit on the floor. Please don’t tell them I shit on the floor! Tell them you’re sick!”
I went back to my classroom and just expected the principal to call me out of class at any minute, but they never did. Jimmy was a stand-up guy. And so was I.
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