Bill Hicks

From the time I started school until I got in the 10th Grade at Lyman High School we moved at least once a year. Some­time we moved twice. In the 9th Grade I was “the new kid” three times!

Being the new kid had its bad points. In fact, all it had was bad points. One of its bad points was that you were a fair tar­get for the other, not new, kids.

When I started the 5th Grade at Kaley Ele­men­tary School in Orlando, Florida I imme­di­ately became a fair tar­get for my class­mates. It was declared one day that I had “cooties”! Not the head lice kind that can eas­ily be cured. These were the kind lit­tle boys get from being kissed by lit­tle girls. They were also the kind that appeared when some­one sim­ply made the dec­la­ra­tion and oth­ers accepted it.

So I had cooties. Because cooties was such a dread­ful “dis­ease” and seemed to be able to be passed by hav­ing any con­tact with the infected, or drink­ing after them, or sit­ting near them, or even using the same uri­nal they used, my social life took a def­i­nite dip!

When we took class break to get a drink none of the other chil­dren would use the water foun­tain after I did. None of the boys would use a uri­nal or toi­let after I had used it. No one would sit at the table where I sat at lunch time. Need­less to say I was quite miserable.

Then one day I had a thought!

When we took class break that day rather than get­ting at the end of one of the two lines orga­nized at the drink­ing foun­tains I walked to the head of the line, reached out and touched both foun­tains while say­ing rather emphat­i­cally, “Cooties!”

All the chil­dren quickly left the lines and pro­ceeded to the bath rooms. After help­ing myself to a drink of water I did also.

In the boys’ bath­room were three uri­nals each with sev­eral blad­der loaded boys stand­ing in line wait­ing their turn. I walked up to the mid­dle uri­nal, reached out and touched it while stat­ing, “Cooties!” The boys at that uri­nal went to the other two lines allow­ing me free access to the one I had touched. Feel­ing the power I had while I relieved myself I also reached out and touched the other two uri­nals. “Cooties!” I exclaimed.

The boys lined behind both uri­nals left to go use one of the four stalls. I fin­ished my own busi­ness and, as I made my way out of the bath­room, I touched each stall door stat­ing my pur­pose, “Cooties! Cooties! Cooties! Cooties!”

When we went to lunch I located a table I wanted, went to it, sat my tray down and looked at each kid with a smile. Plac­ing both hands on the table I whis­pered, “Cooties.” They all got up and let me have the table. I then walked to each of the other tables being used by my class and touched them as I declared, “Cooties!”

It was at that moment that a mir­a­cle occurred. It seems some spon­ta­neous cure had over taken me and it was decided by my suf­fer­ing class­mates that I no longer had cooties. Or if I did it did not mat­ter because they had all become infected.

I was accepted at that moment and never again both­ered while I attended Kaley Ele­men­tary School. My class­mates and I had learned a valu­able les­son, one that has stayed with me through out life. When one gets served lemons change them into “Cootie Power!!”