Kushman's Butterflies

This picture, taken by Gail McCintyre during Advanced Performance Exercising (Notice We're all sitting), captures me in a state of being pestered, butterflies whipping around my stomach, by the man whom the head in the right corner of the picture belongs to; Mr. Kandolin, the gym/mathematics/girls basketball coach. During the course of the four years I had Kandolin as a teacher, in two of his three areas (pick for yourselves), he enjoyed the art of coming up to me and poking with his fingers shaped into pincers, talons of sharp pain in my ribs, if only for the excitement of seeing my arms flail into the air acquiring him the position of full nelson that he slipped into like a gleeful boy eating worms when he's been told repeatedly not too. My shirt is untucked, a demerit, a detention if i wasn't a football player, and the truth of the matter is that i don't believe that I own a pair of pants (Rushmore embroidery made, with An S.T.M. in blue below the left pocket) that did not have a three inch split down the groin. Now if you notice, and you should because those three gentlemen are extremely unattractive, they are wearing jeans; Jean wearing is a venial sin while in class, but every once and a while certain good behaviors (such as giving money to the school, nothing so extravagant as saving a child, or another life) would allow "spirit" days, upon which you were allowed to where blue jeans. It puts me in chuckles how a school focused upon teaching about the spirit would don the name spirit upon a day that students all view is an end of purgatory. Now the second gentlemen sitting, whom appears to be hiding behind Doug (who always seems to be in every picture I've ever seen) is chewing, spitting into a Gatorade water cup which he received from a dispenser located in the doorway down the way, hidden behind the basketball receptacle device. Now for all of you, who happen to read this article, if you just so happen to notice what I bring to class that carries from this picture, please tell me how nice my "..." is and that you once found it unattractive but since becoming a Sexsonian/Nabokovian you've really found the beauty in things.