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The momentary events of my life compiled into a small and formadible package


Nestling

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I stood there, as we were about to be filmed by the news station. We were in the middle of the break and the cheerleaders had taken their break from their intense actions of standing and occasionally making sexual gestures to the camera. I had been standing, dazed out as I had no means of conversation at the time. I decided to stare around the gym, active yet still. The group of basketball players were playing a quick game. I noticed that there were a grand total of two non-African-American players on that team. One of them was in my APUSH class. He talked a lot. Anyways, they were not of interest. I had already watched them and did not have a very fond opinion of them, even though the world thought otherwise. I searched for a means of interest, until suddenly, my eyes became scarred.

There they were. A cheerleader and her coach. They were sitting on the ground, and one of the girls decided that the act of standing had been too stressful on herself. The coach was sitting down, so she proceeded to believe of the coach as her own mother, and snuggled close to her. She found that mimicing the same position as the older coach was simply not comfortable, so she turned sideways and bent her legs.

This is where I came in. My eyes were searching for entertainment as I slowly ventured toward this area (Not a very far venture, as it was directly in front of where I was standing.). There they were. The coach stroking the cheerleader's hair, oddly creepy and lesbian, but not what had brought up my greatest concern. After all, I was in band. A good portion of the women there were pretty hardcore lesbians.

No, what really captured me was what I saw as my eyes explored the scene. After looking at their faces, and not being able to recognize them, I brought my eyes lower. That's when I saw it.

That's right. The panty shot. All over my face. Oblivious to this hole exposure, the cheerleader laid down, exposing this vital part of her body straight in my face, I tried to pull away, but the image stuck in my head like a slap to the face. I attempted to get this out of my head, and even tried replacing the cheerleader with my favorite female characters from television shows that I watched. But to no avail.

"ACTION" the reporter said. We started the segment, and everything was fine. Until I looked down, at myself.

That's right. Johnson had wanted to come out to play. On live television.

The worst part was that out of all of the filming that I did, I only got a 3 second clip of me standing.

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I want to hear more about the coach and cheerleader's relationship.

I imagine it isn't all too dissimilar to the one shown in the first Scary Movie

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