All through high school I was a troublemaker. I would never do anything violent; I would just do stupid things. All of the cool kids hated me because I was against all that school pride shit. I would wrap my whole body in duct tape, blow horns, throw flaming stuffed animals down the stairwell and basically run around like a mad man enjoying myself.

I decided to go out of that school with a bang. Just about every day, me and my crew would regurgitate food on a yuppies' lunch tray or anywhere we could cause a disturbance.

On the last day of school senior year I did something nice. I went home early and ate a lot of food that I knew would look nasty coming up: vegetarian beans, Cheetos (for color), yogurt and milk. I knew that all of these dairy products would look pretty because I am lactose intolerant. I then took some opec syrup (aka vomit-inducer) and went back to school. I took it with lots of water, because the package said to. I waited a half hour and nothing happened--I felt fine. I was starting to get discouraged so I drank a lot more water. I started to feel a little down. I moved to the end of the table so I could make more of a scene, and sat there for a little while feeling shitty. My main man Reed was asking me when it was coming and everybody was asking if I was OK, because I was looking pretty shitty ( even though I always look shitty). I started to answer him and said, "Gweat awayeeee," and exploded! The puke shot out about five feet in a constant, horizontal stream, landing right in front of the condiment table. This guy Mr. Morrell (the one who would always bust us for fake puking, regurgitating) started yelling at me, but he realized this was the real thing. I heaved six more times, all very liquidy with food lumps and this formed a HUGE puddle of vomit. I followed up with three dry heaves and was done. The whole time Reed was on top of the table flailing his arms and yelling in a high-pitched voice. The cafeteria was silent. I stood up and got a standing ovation from everybody. I flashed them the metal sign and was escorted out of the cafeteria to the nurses' office. I told him the lunch gave me food poisoning, but insisted I was fine, so they let me go.

I never saw it, but people said this kid Nick got down on hands and knees and licked it! I went back into the cafeteria to see a janitor who always stared me down, cleaning my vomit. It was like an extra prize to see him clean that. I was on top of the world!

David does a zine called Message From the Homeland, for $1.50 ppd write to him at : David Lucander/57 Griffin St., Springfield MA 01104 or email David