It is fair to say my mouth has gotten me into trouble more than once and that sometimes I deserved it. It is also fair to say my attempt to use James Bond to keep me out of trouble didn’t work out as well as I would have liked it to.
The substitute teacher that showed up in class never should have been a teacher. Without her heels she was probably 3.5 feet tall, with them she was just about four, add in the beehive hairdo and maybe she was almost 4.5 feet.
It didn’t help that she had a funny accent or that she didn’t seem to catch on the antics of a room full of 14 year-old boys and girls.
My moment with her came during her second visit to the class. She asked me my name and I said I was James Bond and that the guy on my left was Pussy Galore.
The class roared with laughter and my friend told her that his name was Pussy Galore, but she never heard it.
That was because just hearing Pussy Galore made her turn purple with rage and squeal PUSSY!!!! I don’t think it was because she was jealous of Honor Blackman either.
“You get up and go outside!”
I stood up but I didn’t move. She walked over, looked up at me and waved a finger in my face.
“Out! I said out!”
I walked out of the room and sat down on a bench. Inside the room was in an uproar, she was wandering around the room muttering “Pussy, Pussy, Pussy” and my classmates were dying.
That funny accent combined with her odd appearance and our juvenile sense of humor blended together to create a teacher’s nightmare. She had no chance, but whether she recognized it or not I cannot say.
What Came Next
Since our sub had never instructed me to do more than go outside I didn’t bother going to the office. I basked in the sun and wondered how much time was left, surely the bell would ring soon and I could grab my stuff and go to the next class.
And then I saw the vice-principal and knew walking down the hall and got nervous. We had already enjoyed several visits in his office and I was certain he wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to ask me why I wasn’t in class.
I stood up, turned my hat backwards and walked back into the classroom.
“Who are you?”
The question took me by surprise. I couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize me.
“I asked you a question. Who are you?
“Ma’am, I am a new student. I just transferred here. I am Vinnie Barbarino.”
Yes, I was a smart ass and I gave her that response because I was sure she was going to send me to the office. Instead she told me to take a seat and explained that I would have to give my paperwork to the regular teacher when she returned to school the next day.
All Hell Breaks Loose
I sit down at my desk and there is almost complete silence. No one can believe what they are seeing.Â Just when things are settled the guy next to me says I can’t sit there because that desk belongs to James Bond.
“Yes, he is right. You can’t sit there because that is James’ chair, but we can share a seat.”
Now I am struggling not to lose it because the speaker is my friend with the feline name.
“Oh, thank you. what is your name,” I ask.
“I am Pussy Galore.”
And with that everyone loses it- it is madness inside the classroom and the poor sub throws all of us out. Yep, she tells every single student to get the hell out.
Sadly this happened within ear shot of our beloved vice principal who was forced not to return to his office to enjoy a powdered sugar donut and a cup of coffee so that he could figure out what happened to our normally quiet classroom.
I haven’t shared all of the details because some of them just wouldn’t be funny unless you had been there, but I can tell you that my buddy discovered that being nicknamed Pussy Galore wasn’t the kind of name that women found attractive.
For years he blamed me for his not being able to get a date, but I still think it is because he looked a lot like Arnold Horshack.