Larry Bartlett

Lafayette High School

Class of 1975

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Larry Bartlett - Class of 1975 - Lafayette High School

First Name	Larry
Last Name	Bartlett
Graduation Year	Class of 1975
Gender	Male
City	N/A
State/Province	VA
Country	United States
Occupation	Janitorial Cleaning Service
Married	Divorced
Favorite School Memory	Favorite memories were the Pep Rallies, Basketball and football games and the sound of the band on the field. I just loved spirit of excitement in the atomosphere and from the people. It has to be the music class of 1975. Brother Harry was in a crappy mood, and I should have known better than poke the snake. My brother, Harry was right: I'm a bloody smart-arse. Anyway, we started toodling away on our horrible little recorders and quite a din was generated. There had to be more to life than this, I thought. Being a trumpet player, and playing in a proper orchestra, my arrogance must have got to Harrys. He suggested I was humbugging. The mongrel was astute. Not only was I humbugging, but I was gold-fishing as well. He was on to me alright. That's when I must have lost my mind and any desire to go on living. 'So where do these stupid things get you in life anyway?' I asked him cheekily. The motion of the planet seized up and total silence fell. He was red-faced, and smarting from the insult. He lunged for a cymbal on a drum set next to him on the podium. I was aghast, open-mouthed, dumbstruck by what I'd unleashed. I watched in slow motion as the cymbal left his hand like an Olympic discus. It came at me like a UFO, silent and deadly. Had I been less of a smart-arse, I would be decapitated by now. Instead, the submarine panic bells were sounding and my bodily survival mechanisms automatically activated. The murderous projectile soared just above my crew-cut noggin as I dropped to the floor like a shot beast. I heard a shreik from behind, and knew that one of the lads had copped the cymbal fair in the bonce. Joe had taken the razor-sharp plate in the side of his head, nipping the top of his ear off and lodging, fixed, in the bone of the skull. His squealing made the sounds at a pig abattoir sound comforting. Down he went to join me on the floor, squirting blood all over the place, a-kicking and a-*******. Now I know learning to play music is important, and that school was never meant to be just a childish lark. But I wondered at this delicate moment if something was being overlooked by us in that mournful music class Thursday morning in August 1975. Bro was taken away by the authorities and made to take a well-earned rest. I never ever got lectured to by anyone about my seedy part in the grubby, horrid little affair. The biggest lesson I learned was that if the matter is serious enough, people will be more likely to just pretend it never happened. Within the space of a month, Bartletts was back in class sitting on the window sill picking blackheads from that red bulbous hooter of his. Anyone for music? I thought, not game to make it audible to others. You do learn some things at school. The really important things. And as a result, I've never taken my ...(read more)
About Me	Books The bible is my number one book....Army, Janitorial Cleaning Service , and Tree Cutting