Parents Strongly Cautioned

The only reason I took the plunge into French Immersion was for the trip to Quebec City in Grade Eight. Every year like clockwork Monsieur Arsenault would pack his students into a bus and pilot them eastward Joseph Conrad style - right into the heart of darkness. The stories from years past were the stuff of legends with plenty of deflowering by nubile Quebec girls and illicit drinking binges. Yes, for that kind of opportunity I would suffer to learn French.

I never got to go because we couldn't afford it. Instead I spent the week at my elementary Alma-matre helping Mamselle "Flat Chest" Farrell mercilessly beating her nose pickers at Zut! and other classic French class blackboard games. Reports filtered back from up the river that everyone was doing fine and enjoying the local culture - blatant propaganda as ever there was. The truth was much more sinister.


Sure, I can remember a few of them (mostly prissy girls who spent too much time holding on to Teacher's dick) coming back to civilization with airy tales of Old Quebec's cobblestoned streets and loading muskets on The Plains of Abraham. They made sure to rub that one in harder than a masochistic Thai masseuse when they saw me listening but my interest was only peripheral. See, the boys brought back something far more valuable, far more exotic than pretty spoken tales of a far-off land. The boys brought back music we'd never heard before, songs that could only be purchased in multi-cultural cities with links to vast trading partners around the world. And who knows, the music might have been decent but we were only interested in the tape case which held a notice that read: "EXPLICIT LYRICS: parents strongly cautioned."

Say what? Explicit lyrics? Whassat? Crack 'em open and let's have a listen. Oh, NWA's "Fuck the Police"...yeah that's explicit. Ice-T and Too Live Crew...pussies and drugs and me so horny...yup my parents should be cautioned about this. Hell, my mom would stroke out if she heard "Fuck Martinez" played at full volume. Where had these been all my life? Gimme more bad words and driving beats. Gimme the chance to live a little before a lifetime of religious service. Hell yeah...gimme explicit lyrics and caution my parents to stay out of my way, 'cause this boy's found his muse and it ain't got nuthin' to do glory, lauds and honour so much as surrender, slander and shame. more...More...MORE!!!

Now that I'm older and a tad wiser (no comments from the peanut gallery, please) I can safely say that I scraped through those years rather well. I never got anything pregnant, I never had any trouble with the cops (with one exception) and I did eventually beat my teen age alcoholism. I've also learned what not to do if I ever have children of my own...never let them out of my sight or else chaperon trips away from home. A little freedom goes a long way and can sometimes take a child all the way to the heart of darkness. Heck, I never even left the province and I still got into trouble...just ask Mamselle Farrell.

Tell her that her "petit chou" sent you...she'll remember.