The dim, cinder block hallway of the community college’s Davidson Building was a sickly medicinal green with yellow-faded linoleum floors, and fluorescent lights that gave off a faint but insistent hum. McG’s leather pants and well-greased goatee reflected the insufficient light as his four-inch heeled cowboy boots clacked in announcement of his approach. He walked into the registrar’s office and rapped his thumb ring against the desk to get the secretary’s attention.
“I want sign up for English class,” he said.
The secretary looked at him over her glasses as she threaded an admissions form into her typewriter.
“You want to sign up for an English class?” she asked.
“I was being ironic,” McG said.
“OK, are you a student here?” the woman asked.
McG took off his belt. “How about we have a penis measuring competition, and whoever has the biggest penis is a student here.”
The secretary didn’t say anything.
McG laughed and shook his head. “I have a small penis,” McG said. “That was totally lost on you. My irony.” He pulled a $20 bill out of his chain wallet and threw it on the desk. “That ought to cover it, tits,” and he pulled the brim of his Hoobastank hat down over his heavily eye-linered eyes, and headed down the hall to class.
The professor looked up from his papers as McG entered the room, probably curious about the “Mambo No.5″ ringtone coming from McG’s cellphone.
“I can’t talk to you right now, Brett Ratner, I will call you later.” McG hung up. “That’s right,” he said, looking around the room, “I have a cellphone. It’s OK to be jealous.”
“No one is jealous,” a goth girl sitting in the back of the classroom said. “We all have cellphones.”
McG shook his head at her. “I was being ironic. Idiot.”
McG put a bag of cocaine on the teacher’s desk. “Hollywood apple,” he said. The teacher told him to take a seat. McG turned his hat backwards and turned his chair backwards and sat in it Dwayne Wayne style, of course. The teacher got up from his desk and paced in front of the classroom.
“OK, students,” he said, “welcome to English Class. Today we are going to talk about pronouns. Can anyone tell me what a pronoun is?” McG raised his hand. The teacher pointed at him. “Why don’t you tell everyone your name.”
“Yup. Does anyone have any gum?”
“How old are you, McG?”
“I am 40 years old.”
“And your name is McG?”
“Do you have a last name?”
“Uh, no. What do I look like? Some kind of asshole?”
“Can you tell me what a pronoun is, McG?”
The teacher stood, waiting. McG farted.
“OK, McG, would you tell me what a pronoun is?”
“I was being ironic.”
The teacher looked at McG. McG lit a cigarette.
“I’m sorry, McG, you can’t smoke in this classroom.”
“Uh, I’m smoking ironically. Duh.”
“You can’t smoke ironically.”
“Do you know what the definition of irony is?”
McG took off his pants. “How about we have a penis measuring contest, and whoever has the biggest penis knows what the definition of irony is.”
The teacher didn’t say anything.
“I have a small penis,” McG said. “Before this competition goes any further, I just want to let everyone know that I have a small penis.” McG pulled up his pants. “That just totally went over you guys. That was lost. Is this a retard school? Is that the problem? You’re all retards?”
McG slapped the professor in the crotch. “Later, teach!” McG turned around and faced the class. “Later retards!” He walked out of the classroom singing “Pomp and Circumstance.” McG took out his cellphone and called Brett Ratner.
“Hi Brett Ratner, it’s McG. Yeah, I just get out on English class. Let’s have a penis measuring competition, and whoever has the biggest penis has to buy drinks tonight. Get it? Yeah, because of how…yeah…it’s very small…I know…no, yeah, it’s totally ironic. See you tonight. Bye bye!”