Extreme Elvin Read Free

parking lot, looking up at the big sign.
    At the big, and tall, sign.
    “I have my limit,” I said sternly.
    “Ya, I’d say your limit’s about two sixty these days, Elvin,” Frank cracked.
    “I don’t care if it’s three sixty, I am not buying clothes in there. No sir. Anyway, what do I need new clothes for? The clothes I have are fine. I look great in my clothes.”
    Mikie got very serious with me. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Elvin, I am your friend. I am your friend, but even I wouldn’t say—”
    “Shut up,” I said. “Did my mother put you up to this?”
    “Elvin, you are never going to get anywhere with the girls if you don’t spiff up your look a little,” Frank said.
    “And I think you should stop mentioning your mother every other sentence. Nobody wants to date Principal Skinner.”
    “I told you already, I’ll be spiffy enough when my diet kicks in. I can feel it working already. Whoa, there it is now. Feel that? It’s kicking.”
    “That’s good,” Mike said. He was doing the serious thing again, which somehow was even more degrading than Frankie’s ridicule thing. See, when Frankie abused and humiliated me, it was half accidental, because he was teaching me life in his style, and his style was mayhem. But when Mikie did it, he was being Dad. He was always right, and we all knew it. If Mikie was bringing me down, I always assumed down was where I belonged.
    “Maybe you wouldn’t have the ’rhoids if you’d keep the weight under control. ...”
    See? Like that.
    “So what. You guys can stop worrying about my health, and we can skip the Big and Tall Shop because since my diet started this morning I’ve already gotten everything under control. So let’s skip the clothes store and go on over and spend the money at Pizzeria Uno instead.”
    “Come on, El, the dance is Friday. You can’t lose that much by then, and I am determined to get you some companionship if it kills me,” Frankie said.
    And you thought he couldn’t be nice.
    “We can’t change you,” he added, “but we might be able to disguise you, with the right outfit.”
    Never mind.
    I looked up at the sign again. I closed my eyes tight. I opened them again. It was still there. It was still big and tall.
    “I can’t do it. This is the lowest, you know? Do you understand, what I am admitting, if I start buying my clothes in there? Huh? Do ya?”
    They looked at each other, then looked back at me.
    “Uh-huh,” they both said.
    So. See these are the things here at fourteen long hard years, the things I have to reassess. Are these guys my friends, my best-of-alls, because they are the people who will tell me the truth? Or would they be better for me if they could just make me feel good by saying whatever necessary? Y’know, every part of me, every cell, every jiggly cell, wants to tell them to shut up, beat it boys, leave me alone. Two problems with that, though. First, they probably wouldn’t listen to me if I did tell them to blow. Second, then again they might.
    That still doesn’t mean I was ready to take this thing head-on.
    “Well, no sale,” I said. “I can’t do it. I can’t admit that.”
    So there we were. Two well-proportioned high school freshmen and myself, standing outside the B&T, staring.
    “You’re tall,” Mikie said suddenly.
    “Huh?” I asked.
    “Huh?” Frank asked.
    “You’re tall, Elvin,” Mike repeated. “You had a growth spurt recently or something? Because I didn’t realize before this how tall you are. Isn’t that right, Franko?”
    Franko was a little slow on the uptake. “Tall? I suppose, he’s maybe kinda tall. Where we goin’ with this?”
    “Tall, Frank. He’s tall. He’s wicked tall.” Mikie was gesturing madly up at the Big and Tall sign as he spoke, trying to get the point over.
    As a thinker, Frank is a very handsome guy. But eventually he got it. “Ah,” Frank said, “tall. You been drinking giraffe milk, El? Listen, we got to get you into the Big