Sean Flynn Memorial Scholarship

In third grade, I had a crush. As with most elementary school crushes, I liked him simply because he was a boy who didn’t think I had cooties. Until he moved schools in 6th grade, I had already planned our future together. My friends and I planned our wedding, designed the floor plan of our future mansion, and of course, gambled on how many babies the storks would deliver to us. Every day at recess, I would walk around with my chest puffed and shoulders back, surrounded by my posse of girls to prove my popularity. Occasionally, I would ditch my friends and talk to him alone. Luckily for me, I had a lot of experience playing backyard games with my stepdad, so I was able to keep up with all of the boys when we played kickball on the blacktop. Any doubt I had about him crushing back on me was eliminated when he would let me cut in front of him in the line to kick. On this particular day, we sat in our pre-assigned seats at lunch. On the table’s bench, it was me, my friend, Mary, and then Shawn, my crush, on the opposite end as me. This was a “pizza” day, so I packed my lunch. Shawn did too, something very out of character for him. When our table was called up to the lunch line, him and I remained seated. I prompted some small talk but it did not last long. Only a brief time later, he said, “listen to this.” He proceeded to let out the loudest, stinkiest, most forceful fart that I have ever experienced. It was so forceful that the bench shook under me, more than three feet away. I was shocked. And, frankly, sort of impressed. Despite being entirely grossed out, I giggled for what felt like forever. People started staring at us, wondering why we were struggling to breathe while writhing around. It was not pain that we were in, however, it was true giddiness. No humor is as pure as fart humor. Everyone farts and everyone laughs at farts. Babies laugh when raspberries are blown on their bellies, and old people laugh when they eventually lose control of their gas. Through my giggles, I told my friends what he had done just moments before, and they told theirs. Eventually, the whole table was losing their minds over the matter. Despite this occurring over a decade ago at this point, I still laugh at the thought of the bench rumbling beneath me. I wonder, too, if Shawn remembers this incident or if I am the only one keeping this memory alive.

I like to think I’m quite the story teller, as life has handed me some epic tales so adventurous that I have no choice but to learn how to represent them correctly. This tale is one such epic, and it is centered around my best friend Gabe. Now, Gabe is by no means stupid. He has better grades then me and was raised in a household of intellectuals. That being said, when it comes to decision making he seems to be lacking. To phrase it best, he’s not dumb, he just acts dumb. This is one such example of him acting dumb. To set the scene, it was the summer of 2019, and we were both 15. We were at Boyscout summer camp, which was a week long trip we took with the Boyscout troop we were in together. At this camp, they had many events, but the one I will be focusing in a swim race. The camp had a lake and the race was over who could do two laps around the circumference of the lake. Now back to Gabe, he was a swimmer, and had been one for most of his life so naturally he decided he would participate in this race. Now anyone else would’ve approached the race normally and just tried there hardest, but Gabe wasn’t anyone else. Gabe was Gabe. Now before the race, Gabe had a merit badge at the arts and crafts lodge in the camp, and he had noticed that they seemingly had a surplus of Vaseline. At that moment the gears in his brain began to turn and grind. He knew that vaseline was slippery, and since that race was speed based, well I think you can see where this is going. Cut to the race and Gabe walked out of the bathroom clad in a Speedo, drenched from head to toe is the slimy substance known as Vaseline. He was literally dripping like he just climbed out of the womb. And so with a purposeful step and a goal in mind he approached the lake, shining like a star in the afternoon sunlight. And when the ref said go, he swam with all his might. And…his plan did not work. For alas, Gabe got second. I don’t know in what universe he thought covering himself in Vaseline would boost his naturally adept swimming abilities, but he was convinced it would do something, and it most certainly did not. Now you may think it couldn’t get better but alas my dear reader, it does. For not only did my best friend get second in a race after covering himself in Vaseline, but the person who beat him had the exact same name as me. Now since I have a decently uncommon name this made it even funnier and I can assure you to this day I have never let him forget the time he oiled himself up only to lose a race to me.