I don't believe this crap. I drop off the face of the planet for a whole freaking month, and not a single “Captain Smack is dead” rumor surfaces? What the hell? It's almost like you people have something better to do with your time than sit around thinking about me. How deflating.
Hey, speaking of ultra-smooth segues, that reminds me of the time when people actually thought I was dead. There were probably about 50 people who, for several months, thought that I had died. In fact, now that I think about it, there are probably at least a few people out there who still think I'm dead - which, for some reason, I find strangely satisfying. I sure would like to run into one of those people.
Why did everyone think I was dead? Well, it all started the year after I graduated from highschool...
I went to this really funky highschool. And by “funky”, I mean that it kicked ass. Not a private school, but an alternative public school for kids who didn't fit into the standard system. It was very small, about 180 students altogether, and the focus was on “individualized learning”. Basically a haven for weirdos. I decided it was the place for me, and put my name on the waiting list to get in.
The way you got accepted to this school was by being interviewed by the entire student body at once. Seriously, you had to get up in front of the whole school (they would all gather in the gymnasium) and explain to them why you wanted to join, and then answer any questions they had. Then the students would take a vote to decide if you belonged there. Generally, the weirder you were, the better your chance of getting in. Naturally, I was a shoo-in.
The school saved my life. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me. After 9 years of the typical overcrowded, impersonal, bureaucratic public education, this place was almost too good to be true. We were treated like humans. We called our teachers by their first names. I actually got to know my teachers personally, and they got to know me. We would just hang out sometimes. No shit. We would get into long conversations, and crack each other up. Other times we would get into heated arguments and yell at each other.
It all seemed very natural, like an actual relationship. I even learned a few things. For example, did you know that there are seven continents on the planet? It's true.
So anyway, I made it through highschool. But then, after graduation, I did something that most graduates prefer not to do: I kept going to highschool. One of my favorite teachers, Trish, told me that I could “audit” her Media Productions class. This basically meant that I wouldn't get any actual credit, but I could go to her class, use the facilities, and learn about filmography and stuff, which is one of my things. I took her up on it.
It was great. There I was, going to highschool, yet not bound by the same rules as everyone else. I felt a certain elation from knowing that, any time I wanted, I could just up and take off. I could leave in the middle of class, if it pleased me. It was a liberated feeling. I felt sort of like Neo in The Matrix; I wasn't trapped in the matrix, like all those other poor schmucks. I could enter or escape whenever I wanted.
I would usually roll in at about 11AM each day, casually stroll around campus for a few minutes, and then sit in on Trisha's class. Then, once class was over, I would screw around in the parking lot during lunch with all the regular students. I was having a pretty good time. I was the King of the Parking Lot.
Then I met this girl, and found a better way to spend my time.
Melissa was 18, and a virgin (until I came along, heh heh). Boy, talk about a sexual awakening. The first time she got some, it was like she found Jesus or something. Once Sex was on the menu, she just sunk her teeth in and wouldn't let go. Everything was sex sex sex, I felt like I had created a monster. I'd already gone through the whole “I-just-lost-my-virginity-so-now-I'm-going-to-screw-as-much-as-humanly-possible” stage, so I thought I knew what I was getting into, but she took it to a whole other level. I have to admit, I had a hard time keeping up with her. But I was determined to give it my best shot.
With Melissa going through such an important “coming of age” phase, I took it upon myself to help her work through it, and did what any caring, sensitive guy would do: I devoted my time to fucking her brains out. It was a lot of work, though, and I had to re-prioritize my schedule a little. My Media Productions class quickly slipped off the radar. I just stopped showing up.
Soon after, a couple of friends of mine, who were a grade behind me, and therefor still in highschool, made up a little song, which they would sing whenever my name came up. The words to the song were simply “Captain Smack is dead”, but they would sing it to the tune of “Bela Lugosi's Dead”.
At first, it was just a little joke. No one actually thought I was dead or anything. Then the highschool yearbooks began production.
One of the cool things about this highschool was that each student got to have their own yearbook page. That's right – instead of just a little picture with your name beside it, each and every student was allowed to create their very own page, dedicated wholly unto themselves, and they could put anything they wanted on it.
My friend, Joey, took this opportunity to take the “Captain Smack is dead” joke to another level. At his own expense, he designed and submitted a yearbook page that did not mention himself at all. Instead, it had a tasteful picture of my face with roses all around it, and it said “In Loving Memory: Captain Smack. We Will Miss You Always."
Once the yearbook came out, rumors of the exact circumstances of my demise circulated rapidly. Some of these rumors had me dying in a car crash. Others were more elaborate, and involved me getting stranded in South America with some exotic disease. But, of course, “drug overdose” was the most popular story, and soon became the official cause of death.
My friends did nothing to quell these rumors, and found the whole thing very amusing.
Meanwhile, I had no idea that any of this was going on. It was a strange time for me. I was really enjoying being disconnected from my social group, and had no particular plans to rejoin the tribe. Melissa's frantic “post-virgin” phase had leveled off somewhat, and we were just kind of groovin' along, doing our thing.
So one day I'm at the IGA grocery store in a nearby town. I'm walking through the parking lot, and I spot these two girls I knew from highschool, Ren & Rachelle.
They saw me and froze. Their jaws dropped and their eyes widened. I was relaxed and casual, and was returning their look of stunned bewilderment with a look of nonchalant bemusement. That's one of my favorite facial expressions – nonchalant bemusement. I still use it, sometimes. It's an expression that says “Hey, I don't know what the big deal is, but whatever floats your boat, babe.”
They suddenly broke out of it and ran to me, smothering me with hugs and kisses. They kept saying “You're alive! You're Alive!”, and I was thinking to myself “Jesus Christ, it's about time I started getting some recognition”. Of course, that was back when I still assumed I was going to be a rock star, so I just figured their reaction was some kind of precursor to my inevitable fame. What was I supposed to think? That they thought I was dead?
They told me all about the yearbook and the rumors and everything, and then I filled them in on what I had been up to. After that, word got around that I had miraculously resurrected (no wonder I have a Jesus complex), and that was pretty much that.
The only other person I ever ran into who still thought I was dead was some redneck guy, who, fortunately, did not shower me with hugs and kisses. He just saw me and was like “Oh. Hey, dude. I thought you was, like, dead or something. Huh.”
So that's my “Captain Smack is Dead” story. It was a lot of fun to be around to hear about my own death. Of course, one day I'll actually die for realsies. It could happen in the next 5 minutes. You never know, I might walk outside and get bitten by a snake or something.
And if that did happen, none of you would ever know about it. You'd probably just assume that I'd quit blogging. It's not like my friends or family would be able to access this blog to inform you about it or anything.
Which is probably the case with most of you, right? If you died, the rest of us out here in Blogland would probably just assume that you had stopped blogging. Ever known any bloggers who were going strong, and then just suddenly stopped?
I always try to end things on a positive note.