INFORMACHION STORED
MATH
Book
HEN SUPER SHUTTLE WAS PARKED JUST OUTSIDE of the house
and waiting, Stanly was slicking gel to his mop to control his curls.
Stanly woke up early and spent most of his morning arranging what
books would go with him on his travels.
"Your clothes. Don't forget your clothes and what? You can't go out
looking like that. You're teetering on insanity, Stanly."
Stanly is the main character for this story. He's thoughtless and thoughtful at
the same time. He makes everybody confused. Not all the time, though. Only
sometimes, and only when he's packing up to leave. Today Stanly is flying hun-
dreds of miles away. He has to give a lecture at a university. A lecture means
giving a lengthy discussion on any subject. I'm not properly certified to say for
sure, but I think lectures can be discussions about any number of subjects.
Stanly had to make sure he had each and every book that he felt was relevant to
the lecture he would be giving. After all, some of the money that the different
university paid him for the lectures was astronomical.
Once at the airport, Stanly somehow managed to get the skycap to tip the
Super Shuttle driver. How he did it, me the writer and you the reader will never
know. Through the airport Stanly walked, sliding a small handbag that had plas-
tic strips so it would move smoothly. People's, the observant ones, eyes followed
him up to the ticket counter. The skycap, behind him with his other boxes and
bags, moved along, not sure which direction or which turn the funny man would
make. After a long circling and rounding trip, Stanly and the skycap wound up
TRYED
TO LOWER
THE SOCK
ON MY LEFT
FOOT SO YOU
COULDN'T TELL
WAS
MICH MACHED
I GRASPED
THE Book
TIGHT
THE PALM
OF
MY
HAND
IN
MY INDEX
FINGERS
OUT STRETCHED
COMP FORTIBLY
THE
MATH
AN
EXTI NCHION
Book
BECAME
OF MY
ARM THE
WAS
STRAIT
SWOOO
Pow
POPED
His
NOISE
OPEN
ALINEMENT
PURFECKTLY
ON CONPUTER
at the Delta Super Jet Jumbo Transporter ticket counter.
"Hi," Stanly said happily, while squashing his hair down,
trying to look presentable.
"Hi," the nice lady working for Delta's Super Jumbo said.
"What can we do for you today, sir?"
Stanly reached for his ticket and identification in his breast
pocket. He handed both items to the lady.
"Flying to blah blah blah, today, Mr. Stone?" Stone was
Stanly's surname.
"That's right, ma'am. Today I am flying to blah blah blah."
Stanly's reply caused the lady at Jumbo to get a little testy.
"OK, Mr. Stone. Has anyone given you any unknown
objects to bring along with you for them?"
"No. No one's given me anything to carry for them."
"All right, then. I have to ask you a few more safety ques-
tions. Did you pack your own bags, and have they been in
your possession at all times?"
"Yes," Stanly said. At the same time Stanly was hoping
he hadn't forgotten any books.
"Here is your ticket, Mr. Stone." Stanly held out his hand
and accepted the ticket. "And your ID." Stanly reached for
that as well. "OK, you're all set, Mr. Stone. Your flight will be
boarding at Gate 27F"
Stanly smiled and took off to find Gate 27F. The carry
bag, which was being dragged along on its plastic strips,
once at the security check zone, had to be examined.
Stanly lifted the heavy bag and placed it on a rolling piece
of material. "Hmm," Stanly thought to himself. "Must be
rubber. The heavy bag went through X-ray. Stanly walked
through the metal detector fast. He wanted to see his lug-
gage on the X-ray TV screen.
"Careful," the men working cautioned. "Mr. Stone, this
here is a security check zone, not a museum of natural sci-
ence. Please step back."
Pretty smart, these men. Or, that's what Stanly was think-
ing. The main man who warned Stanly asked him to step
aside, so he did.
"Are you OK, sir?" the chief security inspector
asked Mr. Stone.
"Yes, I think I'm all right." Mr. Stone quickly pulled out a
small mirror and began to examine himself. "Yes, yes, I think
I'm fine. Do I look ill, sir?"
The security guard did not like the joke. "OK, if you
would please, sir, follow me." Stanly followed the man over
to where his bag was. "Can I open your bag and have a
look inside, Mr. Stone?"
I forgot to mention the security guard at first asked to
see Stanly's ID and boarding card. That's how he knew
Stanly's last name.
"Yes, sir," Stanly said. "If you find necessary to search
my carry-on, then please do."
At this point the security guard hardly cared about his
job and was thinking seriously about smashing Stanly to
bits. But something in the security guard was able to make
him say no, this would not be acceptable behavior. He
kept his cool, the security guard did, and worked profes-
sionally and looked through Mr. Stone's things. The books,
the covers, were all different but each book inside looked
the same, touching on similar subjects. Opening each
book and flipping the pages, the security guard worked
patiently, teaching Mr. Stone if he didn't respect security
procedures then he would pay by possibly missing his
flight. That's what the chief security guard was thinking
while he took his time flipping page after page.
Stanly grew impatient, thinking this just might never
end. "You know, I was just fascinated by the X-ray
machine. I only wanted to see how it worked."
The security guard thought and then spoke. "All
these books. I'm just fascinated. I wanna see how you
work, Mr. Stone."
VS.INFORMACHION STORED ON PAGE)
NDIE SAT QUIET LOOKING AT THE CLOCK ON THE WALL. HIS FATHER,
Mr. Anderson, Sr., had warned him not to get in any more trouble at school.
Andie tried hard not to, but here he was again sitting in the principal's office
waiting for Mr. Foul, the principal of the high school, to make contact with
his dad.
A
"Is there another number where I can reach your dad?" the principal asked.
Andie lifted his shoulders and then let them drop. This gesture means, "Fudge if I know."
"Sit up straight in that chair," Mr. Foul said. Andie quickly straightened up. "Are your mom
and dad divorced?" Mr. Foul asked while looking at Andie's information card.
"No," Andie said. "My mom died last year. She was killed by a drunk driver."
Mr. Foul did not say "sorry" or "sorry for asking"; he only regretted asking the
question. Andie didn't sniffle one bit. His small heart, just barely able to
pump blood, was made of stone.
The principal studied the card more deeply. "It says here your dad works
over at the airport?"
Andie snorted a loud obnoxious snort. "Yes," he said. "My dad's SFO
security police."
Mr. Foul reached into his desk and brought out a phone book. After the
number was found, he dialed: beep urp eep eep burp burp. "Hello? Yes, this is
Mr. Foul from Super Discount High School. I'm calling to speak with a Mr.
Anderson. Is he available?"
"Hold the line and I'll be transferring your call." Mr. Foul held the line.
A switchboard light clear across the airport lit up. The receptionist, a nice lady
who had only been hired a week ago, picked up. "Airport police, how may I direct your call?"
"Hello, this is Mr. Foul. I'm calling to speak to Mr. Anderson."
"What, may I ask, is this regarding?"
"His son Andie."
"Please hold the line. I think he's out on the field."
Mr. Anderson was busy returning to his squad car. There had been a minor disturbance
between
a passenger and a checkpoint security guard. Rosalyn notified Mr. Anderson he had
an urgent call. The black and white pulled away from the yellow curb.
Once back at the office, Mr. Anderson picked up the receiver and pushed down on the
blinking red light! "Hello, Mr. Anderson here."
"Yes, Mr. Anderson. This is Mr. Foul, the principal at Super Discount."
Mr. Anderson, pretty upset anyhow just because that's his normal attitude, said, "Yeah?"
Mr. Foul said, "Well, I have your son here in my office-"
Mr. Anderson interrupted with a stern and secure voice. "Has he been skipping gym
class again?"
"Ah, no sir," Mr. Foul said. "It's a bit more complicated than that. It seems as though your
son has assaulted the physical education instructor in his gym class."
Mr. Anderson, in disbelief, said, "You've got to be joking me." Mr. Anderson took off from
work and picked Andie up from the police department's juvenile division. Along the drive
home, he heard his son's side of the story.
"There's not much to say, Dad. I used to ditch that class 'cause that stupid PE coach got on
my nerves. After you went to talk to the dean I figured I had better start going, but I could-
n't help it. He asked me in front of the whole class, to make a spectacle, if I was color-
blind or poor. I said, 'No, neither of those.' He said, "Then how come your socks don't
match?' I mean, to be quite honest, he assaulted me first verbally. The whole class was
laughing. Then he asked me how come I had all my books with me. I said 'cause I could-
n't remember my locker combo. Then he said something else abusive, so I attacked him.
I bashed him in the nose with my math book."
Andie's dad, while making a turn, took a quick look over at his son and smiled. He was
pleased to see that his son had his same temper.
BASICK MATH
تاکہ
Stories by Mark Gonzales