Thomas Pynchon - The Boys lyrics

In the past few weeks at O. B. H. S. there has arisen a newer, brighter star in the already brilliant constellation of our extracurricular activities. This organization evolved slowly and painfully; many factors contributed to its maturity (for lack of a better word). One has been the natural psychological manic phase prevalent in most seniors coupled with a compulsive-obsessive complex to apathy concerning schoolwork; in other words, goofing off and fooling around. Another has been a certain series of articles in the P. & G. which has fired the imagination of the group of students comprising this society. “The Boys,” for so this group is called, had heretofore been working in the shadow of anonymous immunity, and their names and faces were unknown save to their own compact enclave. But now the secret is out, for “The Boys” have finally reached a peak: they have gotten their pictures taken for the yearbook of ‘53. This singular event took place at the beginning of sixth period on Thursday, February 26. This date is significant; it marks the beginning of a new era of student-teacher relations. Quietly, efficiently, a few couriers infiltrated the halls and cla**rooms. A whispered sentence, a tap on the shoulder, and another silently left cla**. Finally, the entire organization was a**embled on the front steps of the school, the camera set up, the picture ready to be snapped. But wait! No Mr. X! (Mr. X, of course, being the math teacher). Shouting enthusiastically, “The Boys” gathered under his cla**room window, and began chanting, “We want X! We want X!” Slowly, Mr. X approached the window, peered out through his horn-rimmed gla**es and retreated hastily. The shouts grew louder; finally, timidly, Mr. X raised his hand, and said, “All right, all right. I'm coming.” A roar went up, as “The Boys” cheered en ma**e, and finally Mr. X appeared, resplendent in bow tie and bop cardigan. The picture was snapped, and history was made.