Men of the Skull Chapter 54: Backboard

Turns out that Chapter 53 was posted some time ago- it's linked below.

This day was a turning point in my time at Skull.  I didn't plan it to be, but it was.  I felt that, since I had some artistic skill, I could contribute a bit to the House.  I was angry when I saw the vandalism, and decided that if no one else were doing anything about it, I would.

Well, a couple of the people who didn't like me saw me doing this.  They found out I just did it on my own.  Suddenly, they treated me differently- they treated me like a brother instead of an interloper.  That changed a few other's minds.

Eventually, I used my art to revitalize the house scrapbook, for which I won the first "Officer of the Year" award in 1988.  The guy I beat for it was house chef, who is now a multi-millionaire restaurateur.  More important than the award though, was acceptance.  To this day, not all of the brothers of my time accept me because I was a transfer (and some because I transitioned- as expected.)

However, it isn't ALL of them.  That, I believe is because of this day.

***********************************************************************

Chapter 54: Backboard

Saturday, March 21, 1987 Pained  Faithful of Bakker’s PTL are stung by his sudden fall.

            A week ago, someone sprayed PKA all over the basketball net backboard in the Skull parking lot.  A few of the brothers were pissed off by this, me included.  However we had no idea who did it- after all, anyone could’ve painted those letters just to get us after PIKA.  

            The backboard was old.  Bacchi said “it was fuckin’ old when I was a fuckin’ pledge!”  As he graduated in 1950, it was at least forty years old.  It looked like it.  The pole was square and wooden, maybe six inches thick.  The backboard was maybe three feet by four feet and grey from age and rain.  The hoop was only a few years old, but it was bent and beginning to rust.

            I couldn’t believe no one was repainting or replacing the backboard.  No matter what- having those letters on our property was a slap in the face.  So I figured if they weren’t going to do anything about it, I would.  I asked Virginia if she wanted to help.

March 23, 1987 Collegian.  Baby's is still there as of this writing

            “Why should I?  It’s YOUR house, not mine.”

            “I’ll make it worth your while” I said while backing her against a wall in my apartment hallway.

            “Yeah?  How?” she asked quietly, her eyes never leaving mine.

            I pinned her to the wall and kissed her forcefully.

            “Promises, promises” she said, rubbing my crotch and smiling.

            “So are you helping?”

            “Convince me more” she said.

            The pledges repainted the entire downstairs a couple weeks before.  Should be enough paint left over to do the board at least.  There was primer, beige (why?), and black.

            So that morning, I used my Mac to print “Skull” in a calligraphic script.  Very ornate- fancy- as befits a stately mansion.  I wanted to reproduce this on the backboard.  After breakfast at the Waffle Shop (it was packed, being Parent’s weekend), Virginia and I bought a couple of small miniature painting brushes at Nittany Line Hobbies and walked hand in hand to the house.

            We quickly found the paint in the second floor Gamma closet and a ladder down in the Quag.  The step ladder was old, wooden and as rickety as the backboard.  Damn thing might’ve been as old as the house!

Mar 23, 1987 Collegian.  I remember seeing this back then and feeling pain

            I stirred the paint with fallen branches from the tree that overhung the backboard and the parking lot.  Virginia held the rickety ladder which was in real danger of collapsing into a pile of splinters.  During this entire time, no one asked me what the hell I was doing with the ladder, the paint, anything.  I was invisible to them.  I didn’t care, since no one was parked under the net so I didn’t need any cars moved.  I didn’t need to talk to anyone. 

            Prime.  Let dry.  (Virginia and I walked over to Pizza Pi for slices.)  First coat of beige on the backboard.  Let dry (went back to my apartment and fucked like crazy, as mark was away for the weekend.)  Second coat of beige.

            Virginia and I sat on the ground under the tree and waited for the coat to dry. 

            “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

            “Doing what?  Painting?  Going to school?  Dating you?”

            She kicked me.  “Asshole!  Painting! You could be studying!  Doing homework!”

            “Sleeping!” I said, stretching.

            “Sleeping?  We could be having sex!”

            “We could do that here.”

            “Not with your brothers watching, no thank you.”

            “You’re no fun.”

            “Fuck you!”

            “You just said no!”

            “Are you gonna answer my question?”

            “Which one?”

            She hit me on the shoulder.

            “Ow!  I felt like it.”  I said.  “I made a promise to Phi Kappa Sigma.  Doesn’t matter how these guys treat me- I intend to keep that promise.  And if that means repainting this old thing to get rid of someone else’s letters, so be it.”

            “Even if these assholes don’t care?”

            “Right.”

            She shifted over and kissed my ear.  “Are you gonna keep your promises to me?” she whispered.

            “Have I made any?”

            She bit my ear.

            “OW!  I keep my promises.  Always.”

            “Did you promise anything to Judy?”

            “I promised always to be there for her.”  I said.

            “Why?”

            “Why do we have to talk about this?”

            “What else are we gonna talk about?”

            “What do you wanna do tonight?”  I asked, leaning back to look up at the heavy cloudy sky.

            “My house is partying.”

            “So the usual?  That’s cool.”

            We relaxed a bit before I started painting the black gothic letters.  I sketched them out in pencil, maybe a foot high on the tallest one, and then outlined them with the small brush.  When that was done, I started filling them in with the bigger brush.  Virginia sat on the bottom rung, steadying the ladder while reading a book.

            The paint wasn’t exactly dry, so the beige mixed a bit with the black, making a muddy grey.  Fuck.  I’d have to repaint a bit.  Before doing that, I stopped and sat atop the ladder for a second for a break.  I looked over at the house.  Veal was leaning out his second floor window. 

            “Yo Lancer, you do that?” he yelled.

            “Yeah.  It’s not done yet, though.”

            He smiled.  “It looks fuckin’ awesome, man!”

            “Thanks!”

            “No, really!  Great fuckin job!” 

            He gave me a thumbs up and leaned back into the house, pulling the window shut behind him.  I looked down at Virginia, who was looking up.

            “Isn’t he one of the biggest assholes?” she asked.

            “Yeah.”  I said.  “It must’ve hurt a lot for him to say that.”

            Virginia laughed.

            After I finished the lettering, I painted our letters over the green ones painted on the post.  Quick touch ups on the board and the job was finished.  Virginia helped me carry everything back into the house, and we went back to my place to clean up and fuck again.

Monday, March 23, 1987 Soviet says U.S. evades arms accord

            I sat in the dining room of the house having a soggy burger for lunch.  There were maybe seven brothers there, all reading the Collegian and talking about whatever.  Veal walked through the kitchen doors and grabbed a plate and a burger.  He sat among a few brothers.

            “Hey guys, did you see the job Lancer did painting the basketball net?  Fuckin’ awesome!” he said loudly. 

            “Lance did that?”  “Really?”  “Wow!”  A few other mumbled comments.

            The brothers smiled and were nice to me.  Felt great.

Taken in 1988, after it was knocked over in a fight, this is the backboard.

            That night we had chapter.  Veal was the Pi (academic chairman), and as always gave his officer report.  After his other stuff he said “I’d like to recognize Brother Kandler for the great job he did painting the backboard of the basketball net.”

            Some whispers and “good jobs” then the customary round of applause.  For Me.  Wow! 

            We had elections that night as well.  Maple was elected Alpha.  Like I cared.  I was floating.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter