TMC/FFE 02: VOL. 1 / Entry 2

 


Friendship High School. Friendship, Oklahoma. Home of the fire ants!

📘 The Mischief Chronicles: Freshman Fiasco Edition

Volume 1, Entry 2 Title: “Lunchroom Law: The Rise of Waffle Wednesdays” Date: September 6, 1974 Location: Cafeteria, Table 9¾ (unofficially claimed via duct tape and chip crumbs)

Dear Journal,

Today, I learned high school lunch is governed by ancient and brutal traditions. There are territories. Trade routes. Unspoken hierarchies based on tater tots and ketchup access.

I sat alone at first.

Then Chip crash-landed next to me with a tray, three forks, and a Ziplock bag full of Legos labeled “emotional support pieces.”

> “Don’t get too comfy. I’ve got a vision.”

I told him I was just trying to eat my enchilada in peace.

> “Peace is for choir kids. We’re building a revolution.”

Apparently, the lunch menu rotates like a bad dream. Wednesday is “Mystery Meat Cube Day.” But Chip—lover of syrup and chaos—brought a mini waffle iron in his backpack. (Yes. A backpack waffle iron.)

We plugged it in under the table.

There were sparks. Actual sparks.

Conchita passed by, sniffed the air, and muttered “criminal behavior” in Spanish.

By the end of lunch, three kids had asked for waffles, a junior gave us a syrup bottle in solidarity, and the football team accused us of witchcraft.

Chip called it:

> “Waffle Wednesdays.” > “A protest in batter form.” > “A carbohydrate call to arms.”

I just wanted a seat that didn’t wobble.

But... it worked.

Today, Table 9¾ became a micro-circle.

People laughed.

Someone read a haiku about cafeteria nachos.

We voted Chip “Waffle Czar.”

I was declared “Emotional Anchor and Keeper of Cord Safety.”

And I didn’t feel new anymore.

🧇 Closing Thought:

Some rebellions start with speeches. Ours started with maple syrup and a 1971 Sears waffle iron. I think Chet would’ve liked that.

In stitched-cotton solidarity, Alejandro


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