“Is your mom still an… um… is your mom still so fat her ass got two zip codes?”
So this is it – the start of the big reveal (well, besides the big reveal that Aaron Aagard’s Molly is a girl, not the recreational drug) that will tell us what’s truly behind Aaron’s inconsistent play. Mike Granger couldn’t start it off any more awkwardly. Sure, let me start talking about my plan to pump Aaron for mom info out loud in this shiny tiled echo chamber where Aaron’s already sitting. I can already see this devolving into a poorly played game of The Dozens.
“Mike, you’re so stupid you can’t even remember what I told you Aaron’s mom did for a living a couple of days ago.”
“Ken, your mama’s the judge, not you, so shut the hell up. So Aaron, is your mom still an actuarily?”
“Sort of. She lost her actuary job, though.”
“Oh. So your mom’s so poor she can’t even pay attention?”
“Nah. She still plays the numbers. That’s why I help her… by shaving.”
“Oh. So your mom’s so hairy, you shave her with a weed whacker.”
“No. I shave points so Milford can’t cover the spread.”
“Oh. So your mom’s like chunky peanut butter: greasy, full of nuts and easy to spread…”
The boys continue discussing Aaron while they play a video game of.. a car driving somewhere on the screen. Wow, for a 2017 video game it sure looks on the tame side. I once had a car video game where I had a steering wheel, and the object was to drive as many laps in 5 minutes as possible. The track filled the TV screen, and in those primitive days I was so good at the game I would reset the lap counter at the top.
Career day in 6th grade?? We didnt have that until junior year in high school. 6th grade I was still eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day and playing basketball in my driveway, dreaming of one day being able to stuff it through the hoop like the bigger kids in the neighborhood. The paper boy would ride up on his bike and deliver the Daily News, an afternoon paper that is now defunct. I feel sorry for these guys that they’ve had to know this dude for 6 years. He must’ve wanted to be a rock star in 6th grade. Anyway what does career day have to do with where he lived? Just one stupid train of thought after another here.
No, nobody HAS to live in dumpy apartments. Thats why the Robert Taylor Homes got torn down in Chicago. Dope.
And in P3 we have more AA discussion over wine and burgers. What a perfect meal. Yeesh.
Wake me up when this plot wants to move forward.
If you thought you’d wake up this morning to get the lowdown on Molly, your hopes have been dashed. Here are three panels of Aaron Aagard-centric basketball action. Bobby Mitchell gets involved from long range, but you’ll have to use your imagination to picture his three point form. (If it helps, Bobby was part of Milford’s impressively sized front court. Fill in all the other blanks for yourselves.)
That’s about all we’ve got folks. In studying this strip for inspiration, it occurred to me that I have never witnessed a single minute of actual, live high school basketball. I know you faithful readers and commenters have all kinds of deep prep sports knowledge from personal experience on the court and in fandom. Many of you may even live in regions where high school hoops puts asses in the seats. That never seemed to be the case in Florida, where I grew up and still live. I couldn’t even tell you if the teams fielded while I was in high school were any good or what kind of records they posted. Occasionally, someone would mention our state championship team from the early 70s featuring future NBA all-star Otis Birdsong. A decade or so later, Jack Deedrick was still coaching Blue Devils on the hardwood, but I only remember him shouting directions to us out in the Drivers’ Ed practice lot. “Wheel it, WHEEL IT!” He does have a new (newer, anyway than the stinky, humid barn I remember from boring assemblies and pep rallies) gym named after him.