A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 67
CHAPTER 167 .......... Empathy Day- Part Eight – Missing Uniforms

Chapter Description: 2 new pictures added 2/9/24 Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home

CHAPTER  167

I ran to the captain.  I said, “X … what the hell is going on?”

For the first time since I had known him, Dilinger X VonChompion had a look of death on his face.  He answered, “Someone stole our uniforms … the jerseys, the pants, even the gym shorts.”

I knew that only the coaches and the custodian had keys to the football locker room, so we never bothered to individually lock up our stuff inside.  I wondered about the security cameras.

So did Coach Parker.  He punched up the IT instructor, Rodney Bopp on his cell phone.

“Hello?”

“I’m trying to reach Rodney Bopp.”

The voice on the other end sounded like a kid.  “He’s not here.  This is Marlan Gopee.  I’m Mr. Bopp’s IT assistant.”

“Well Marlan, this is Coach Parker.  Do you know anything about the security camera videos?”

“I know everything, Coach.”

“Marlan, can you pull up the tape feed for today on the security camera for the Phys. Ed. wing?  Somebody stole a whole lot of stuff.”

“Yeah, you can come up to the IT classroom now, Coach.  It’ll only take a few minutes to run through it on fast-forward.”

“I’m on my way.”

Coach Parker was followed closely behind by 15 ‘new-girls’ who were fed up with wearing panties and dresses.  We all just assumed we would change into our football uniforms and then our parents would bring some ‘boy clothes’ to us after the game.

Marlan was a fellow seventh grader.  All of us crowded around his computer monitor as he searched for the right digital footage that would show the locked door entrance to the football locker room.

When he found the camera feed, he set it to 7 am, and then pressed the 5x speed to zip through it.  When he got to around the lunch hour, we saw a ‘blip’ of motion.  He rewound tape and switched it to normal speed.

Goro pointed at the monitor and yelled, “Holy shit!  There he is!  But he’s wearing a hoodie over his head.”

I added, “He’s got one of those big open rolling bins … the same kind Professor Clinkenbeard uses to store his penises.  But I never saw any extras around.”

“Extra bins or extra penises?” asked Randy.

“Bins,” I shot back.

Now Coach Parker pointed at the screen.  “Look at that.  How the hell does he have a key to get in the door?”

Obviously, there were no cameras in the locker room, so Marlan hit fast forward again to see the same person exiting the locker room with a full bin of uniforms.

Our coach was super pissed.  “I’m goning to find that idiot and I’m going to crack his skull open.”

“Wait!  Coach!” I yelled.

“Derrek?”

I asked the IT assistant, “Marlan, could you please rewind the last ten seconds, one frame at a time?”

“Okay … say when.”

I waited a few seconds and called out, “Stop there!  Look, he turned his head in this frame … we can see part of his face now.  Can you zoom in?”

Marlan used his mouse to enlarge the culprit’s face.

“Right there!” I exclaimed.  “OH SHIT!!   It’s not a he, it’s a she.  Look at the long strand of white hair.  It’s Kitti Power!”

“WHAT?!!” the whole team called out.

“Derrek,” said Coach Parker, “why would a high school girl want to steal the uniforms from a middle school football team?”

“Revenge,” I answered.  “She gave me an invasive physical, so in revenge, I French kissed her at the high school for ten seconds while the whole team cheered me on.  So now she wants revenge back again.  That’s why she didn’t rat me out after the kiss.”

“But then why would she leave the cleats, the shoulder pads, and the helmets?”

I took a deep breath.  “Pardon my French, Coach, but Kitti Power is the sleaziest cunt in Buffalo.  If we don’t forfeit, then she wants to make us play the game in girls’ clothes.”

Our coach quickly took out his cell phone and punched up Reginald Paningbaton, the principal of the high school.

“Reggie?  It’s Coach Parker.  We got a big problem.  One of your high school girls, Kitti Power came over with a big bin at lunch time and stole our football uniforms.  Can you put an all-points-bulletin around your building and track her down.  I know the school day is over, but we’ve got a game to play … today … like really soon … like now … Thanks.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the coach muttered, shaking his head.

“X was stone-faced, but he told our coach, “We’ll do what we have to do.”

A half hour later, we could delay no longer.  X gathered the team together and said two words.  “Suit up.”

Showkat looked at the captain in disbelief.  “Are you out of your fucking mind?!   You want us to run onto the field in girly skirts and dresses to fight Al Capone Middle School?!”

The captain was having none of it and he bellowed, “I SAID SUIT UP!!!”

Then he quietly added, “If the refs won’t let us play, then we’re screwed … But we will not voluntarily forfeit.  Capone is undefeated ...  and so are we.  The winner of this game will probably be in the drivers seat toward the league title.  We’ll play if we can.

All of us had to swallow our pride as we exited the locker room and ran to the field.  Maybe in our cute little dresses, we should have tried skipping onto the field.

As expected, the cat calls and the laughter from our opponents was brutal.  “Pussy Power … Gimme some pussy cunt … Look who’s here-the Buffalo Ho’s …On fourth down you’ll need to cunt punt … Bend over and take it, ladies … Papa needs a hole to poke… I hope you ladies are all virgins … You’re going to suck my cock every time we score … Did the girls cut off your dicks? … Which one of you’s got the biggest tits? … How can you play football if you aint got no balls? … Get ready to line up and get fucked hard, girly girls.

The two head coaches and the two refs met at the center of the field.  Closter Cager, coach of the Al Capone team noted, “I like your new uniforms, Parker.  They’re quite intimidating.”

Coach Parker was terse.  “Our uniforms were stolen today, the same day that our principal was running something stupid called Empathy Day, where students switch wardrobes to the opposite gender.  If you refs order a forfeit, then so be it.  But if the three of you allow us to play, then we’ll play.  We’re not quitters.”

The refs pointed to Closter Cager who made his opinion clear.  “Icy, my boys came here to play today.  They learn nothing by getting back on the bus and going home.  I’m telling the refs right now, that even if our opponents showed up in their birthday suits, we still want to play a football game.”

The head referee noted, “If this were high school, it would definitely be a forfeit, but for seventh grade, we’re going to let it go.  Coach Parker, do you have any fish-net tees in your gym that your linemen can wear so we know who’s inelligible to receive?”

“I’m sure I can dig some up … And thanks for letting us play.”

All four men shook hands and returned to their stations on the field.  And I was all ready to play a football game in my helmet, shoulder pads, cleats, panties, training bra, and little black dress.

The small crowd we get at our home games is mostly player’s parents and classmates, so they knew about Empathy Day but didn’t know why we were still wearing girls’ clothes in the game.

Despite the cries of ‘Pound the Pussies!’ from our opponents, we had to try to overcome our embarrassment, even when guys like me had their heart-lined panties exposed after a tackle.

It was hard enough to concentrate on our game assignments, but an additional problem started creeping into the athletic struggle.  Penalties started piling up, almost all of them against our team.  I never argue with refs because as a game goes on, the penalties start to even out … but not this time.

There were a number of ‘phantom’ holding calls against us … two of them when Showkat ran for touchdowns that had to be called back.  And there was a pass interference call on me that was so blatantly wrong, that had the ref been a kid my age, I might have slugged him.  It was one of my ‘pick-6’ interceptions that scored a TD where I never even touched the receiver’s body.

More phoney baloney calls followed … facemask, offsides, illegal motion, false start.  It was so obvious that we were getting ‘jobbed’ by the officials and there was nothing we could do about it.

My guess was that the refs wanted to punish us for what they thought was us making a mockery of the game.  The other players were marching down the field and ‘holding’ us without getting any penalties called at all.

With two minutes left in the first half, the receiver I was guarding caught a pass, and when I went to tackle him, one of his teammates grabbed my wrist, spun me around and flung me to the ground … no flag.  The reciever made it all the way to the end zone for Capone’s fourth touchdown, bringing the score to 26 to nothing.

That’s when our coach lost his calm.  He ran onto the field, going totally ballistic on the refs, although he made sure not to physically touch them in his rant.

“Just what the hell are you two trying to pull?!!   Fourteen penalties for our side and just one for the other?!!  These are phantom calls!!  In my twenty year career, I’ve never seen anything like it!!  You two are cheats!!”

The head referee warned him, “You better watch your tone, Coach Parker.”

But our coach just got louder.  We had never seen him like this.  He sounded like he was going to have a heart attack.

“WATCH MY TONE?!!  he screamed.  “The tape of this game is going to the state commissioner!!  You two mother-fuckers are a couple of jobbers!!”

“THAT’S IT, COACH!!  You’re out of here! … out of the game!  Leave the field now!”

Coach Parker wasn’t done.  “You’re a disgrace to your profession, and you’re a disgrace to the game!”

“Leave the field now, coach,” said the ref.   “Or we’ll get a police escort.”

Icy Parker slammed his clipboard to the ground as he passed our bench.  He spoke to no one as he headed back to the locker room.

Our assistant coach, Matthew, tepidly led our team in the final two minutes of the half.  Nothing more happened and we began the slow walk back to our locker room still trailing 26-zip.  Team spirit had vanished.

Sammantha, Daniel, and seven-year-old Madeline flagged me down as I was walking past them.

“Sweety, what happened to your uniforms, and what’s going on in this game?”

“Mom, the security camera showed that Kitti Power stole our pants and jerseys at lunch time … and you can see that we’re getting punished for it.  Coach Parker knows that.  That’s why Kitti never tattled on me for the forced kiss I gave her.  She had other plans.”

“I have some boy clothes for you in the car.  Do you want to change now?”

“I can’t, Mom.  It would show up my teammates.  Thanks for offering.  We’ll be okay.”

When I entered the locker room, everyone was just staring at the floor … except X.  Our captain asked Coach Parker and his three assistants to gather in the coach’s office … but he never closed the door.

He told the four adults something that no other twelve-year-old in the entire country would have the balls to say.

“I’m taking over the team in the second half.”