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%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOKWhat They Did to the Kid 69%u201cKiss mine,%u201d I said.%u201cBare it.%u201d%u201cSo you could sign your name there too? Fool%u2019s names, Hanko, and fool%u2019s faces are always found in toilet spaces.%u201d%u201cEat shit,%u201d he said.%u201cThen what would I do with your clothes?%u201d If there was one thing a boy learned in the seminary, it was the snarling way to use his mouth.Far across the refectory, Gunn rang the bell signaling us to stack the dishes at our tables%u2019 ends. The clatter of two hundred of us high-school boys passing china and silverware began. I touched the underside of my fork handle to a blot of mustard and passed it directly to Hank.He winced like an old maid when the mustard soiled his fingers that were more mechanic%u2019s than priest%u2019s. He cursed and tried to wipe his hand on my black sweater. I pulled my chair away. He glared. Daggers, crude like angry boys draw in notebook margins during class, shot from his eyes. The stacking noises died and we sat in silence, turned at various angles to hear Gunn%u2019s announcements, rising finally to stand for the prayer, %u201cGrace after Meals.%u201d %u201cGrace after Meals. Grace before Meals. That%u2019s how Prince Rainier likes it.%u201d The funniest thing about Hank the Tank%u2019s level of humor was how funny he thought he was. %u201cMonaco is a state of Grace.%u201d %u201cA pun is the lowest form of humor.%u201dIn the cattle crush of boys funneling to the narrow refectory exit, Mike Hager, seated at another table, had already heard about the fight.%u201cWhat%u2019s going on?%u201d he whispered.%u201cMutiny,%u201d I said.%u201cWhy didn%u2019t you sign it, Ryan?%u201d%u201cYou%u2019re kidding,%u201d I said, not turning my head.%u201cYou could have been one of the boys.%u201dHank the Tank stepped hard on the heel of my shoe, pulling off my loafer. It was an old trick, done every day to break someone%u2019s syncopation in the fast march-step of seminarians double-file down long hallways. I wheeled. The two of us stood, stock still, facing each other smack in the middle of the silent crowd of boys pushing out the door past us. My tongue licked across my two new teeth. In the free-for-all fury of the Mud Bowl, nobody but me knew exactly who had kicked me in the mouth. He knew. I knew. But I never told anyone. I wouldn%u2019t give him the satisfaction. He was afraid to claim the bragging rights.His kicking out my teeth gave me the power to get him shipped anytime I wanted. So did his locked door.