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In the cafeteria, Bobby Dyer (AKA Dumbshir] or Jeff Greeley (AKA

J-Greel) would call me over to their table with a "Hey Baby-Dick!" or
"Come sit with us, Baby-Dick!" In ways, it was comforting to be associ-
ated with anything, even if it was the most embarrassing factor of my
anatomy.

Twelve-thirty in the afternoon, West Ridge High School
Cafeteria, lunch time. Sitting with the guys (that day it was Dumbshit,
T-Dave,J-Greel, the Blacks-Seamus, Dwight and Chuck-Neckbeard,
Howard, and Cockrhursron.) trying to enjoy my lunch (that day it was
very dry turkey, very dry mashed potatoes, and uncomfortably-moist
spinach.) Typical conversation ensues:

"Hey J-Greel, you hear the new Cannibal Corpse album?"
asked T-Dave. (One of the advantages of this group of guys was that,
like me, they were all metal-heads.)

"Nah dude, I haven't liked any of their stuff since Tomb of the
Mutilated" responded J-Greel.

"Oh man, no, it's better than Tomb of the Mutilated. It's their
best album since Eaten Back to Life."

"What do you think, Baby-Dick?" interjected Dumbshit.

"Cannibal Corpse has never been good;' I started in. "They're
bottom-of-the-barrel shit, to be sure. The new Bolt Thrower album is
pretty sweet, though. It's kind of djenty."

"What the fuck is 'djenty'?" asked Woodchuck.

"Djent is kind of like groove metal's retarded cousin. Like
Meshuggah."

"Meshuggah isn't groove metal. It's thrash metal."

"Meshuggah is djent. That's what I'm trying to say!"

"Nah dude, Meshuggah is straight-up groove metal. Proto-
djent, though."

"What the fuck is 'djent'!"

Liz Morrow (who was just skin and bones) and Marie Smith
(who always smells like cigarettes) walked past our table, grabbed a table
on the other side of the room, and sat down with their lunches. They ate

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