She Came Out Through The Bathroom Ceiling

This is a weird memory of mine, but it recently shot into my head and I thought it was so weird that it was maybe a little bit repressed, because it was not that tragic, but it was such a weird thing to happen, and it makes me remember what a bizarre child I was.

When I was about seven years old, my mom rented The Rocky Horror Picture Show for me to watch. After I saw it, I became obsessed (I am only okay to admit this because I was ONLY seven; I wasn't some high school or older theater geek. I HATE Rocky Horror fanatics).

I got the soundtrack, memorized it, memorized the whole movie, and then my mom took me to see the movie in the theater on Halloween, where I remember them having a "FUCK YOU" contest between the two sides of the audience, yelling "fuck you" at each other and trying to get the sides to yell the loudest. I, of course, could not participate because I was with my mom, but she was mortified that she brought me there and blames this experience in my youth for how mixed-up and insane I am today.

Soon thereafter I got my best friend Beth into Rocky Horror. And we used to get to school early and sneak into the bathroom, when all the lights were turned off, and I had this little Fisher-Price tape player and we'd listen to the songs over and over, alone in the really dark bathroom and sing along to them, softly, so we wouldn't get caught.

Thinking back on this, it was such a bizarre thing to do. And it didn't happen just one time. It became a ritual. We knew where and how to get in like 45 minutes early and we'd never miss a morning doing this. Then somehow it became a weirdly sexual experience. I mean we'd never touch or anything, but it was undeniable to both of us that it was.

Well, it does have to be argued that we were rather intimate friends. Beth would have her cousins come over while we'd pretend we were prostitutes and her cousins would give us back massages and stuff until I thought it was getting a little weird, but she'd go further with her cousins.

Beth also had a pool in her back yard and enjoyed taking shits into her hand and throwing it over the edge of the pool rather than getting up wet and going to the bathroom. I just threw that in because I really liked that she did that. She was trashy. Later she got fat and turned into real white trash.

So my relationship with Beth was weirdly sexual to begin with, and this Rocky Horror ritual thing became very important to us. I remember we finally got caught one day by my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Murphy, a gangly old Irish lady. I really can't fucking imagine what she thought of two girls hiding out before school in a dark bathroom singing the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, nor did I even know if she knew what we were listening to, but she very sternly told us to get out of the school and never come back in early like that.

After that I started to like to spend a lot of time in the bathroom at school. I figured out how to climb around the stalls and spy on people peeing when they didn't notice, and mostly I attributed it to the fact that I liked to climb, and the bathroom was fun. The school had one of those cheap panel ceilings like most institutions do, where you can push the panels up and they're made of this crappy cardboard stuff. One day I noticed that one panel was slightly broken, and I climbed up by the ceiling and started pushing it up and down and moving it. I entertained the idea of going up into the ceiling, but I pussied out...that time.

Later I pushed the panel all the way over and decided I'd do it. I'd go up into the ceiling and climb around and see where I ended up. I was a very skinny kid, so I figured it would support me, if my dream was not interrupted by some stupid tattle-tale bitch who I guess was taking a pee at the time and I did not notice her leaving. But I did notice when some fat ape of a woman teacher came in yelling at me to get out of the ceiling. I thought maybe I could run, in the ceiling, and not get caught. I could escape. But I was used to listening to adults so I came down. Right when I was so close to what I wanted to do.

They took me to the principal's office for this, and I had never gotten into any trouble (at this point) so it was really weird for me. The principal asked me weird questions about whether I wanted to escape something and about whether I was being abused at home, and what would make me want to go up there.

At the time, I figured it was just because I liked to climb and was curious.

Oh, yeah: The school authorities also got the obviously pedophile janitor to come in and yell at me about the damage I caused to the ceiling. He really screamed for a long time. I'm sure he totally got off on it. He never got to yell at any of the kids. I think he was living out his fantasy. Fucking perverted janitors. Who would get that job unless he was a pervert?

Anyway, I thought at the time I just liked climbing and that's why I went in the ceiling, but when this all popped into my head the other day I think the principal may have been right. Maybe I was trying to get away from something.

Whenever people asked when I was a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I could never think of anything to say. I saw One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest when I was about eight, and I saw Jack Nicholson get a lobotomy. After that, I decided I always wanted a lobotomy. My home life was so bad. I never wanted to get married. That seemed terrible! I would always say I wanted a lobotomy when I grew up. That would freak people out. Except my father, he loved it, because of his sense of humor.

I think back to sneaking into school every morning with my incestuous best friend and secretly listening to the Rocky Horror soundtrack and then trying to run away into the ceiling and I realize I've always been like this. I always wanted to escape in some way but I didn't know how. I still do, and I still don't know how.

My small bedroom with walls covered in clown paintings and a floor littered with Dunkin Donuts cups and cigarette butts and the TV constantly blaring serves as an escape for me now. I spend progressively more and more time in there. I'm positive I'm becoming agoraphobic. It's an escape from all these fat know-it-alls, and all the creeps that troll around me and hit on me, people that follow me and suck the life out of me, as well as my mother's constant nagging and my father's endless talk about death.

My room is also my respite from disgusting bar life, noise music, roaches, decay, daily dealings with mental degenerates, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseam. It seems to never end. I don't know why this all hit me recently but I think it's important for some reason.

I wish now that I could try to climb into one of those cheap panel ceilings, just because now I'm adult and I know if I were caught people would think I was crazy, but I wouldn't care.

The other day I was in Dunkin Donuts for my daily visit, and this little girl started talking to me. I talked back to her. She was cute. Then she turned to her mom and said, "Mom everyone is so nice, I love everyone!"

I almost started crying.

Then I said goodbye to her and started walking to the door, and she asked her mom if she could come give me a hug and before her mom gave her an answer she came up and hugged me. It was really weird.

Now I'm not going to go all Michael Jackson and talk about how children are so beautiful and innocent, but it was a sweet moment. I wish there were more like that.

At the very least, I wish I had more moments like I used to have with Beth listening to the radio in the dark, or swimming in her pool and watching her shit in her hands and throw it over the side. Those are the moments that make life worth living and make me not want to hide all the time.