For some reason I started thinking about a man named Perry Fitts today. I met him my first semester of junior college. English 1A was where I caught my first glimpse of him and his peculiar style. I came to realize that Perry had one outfit, but it was hot shit. It consisted of a red hat, Raiders football jersey, tight white shorts, emphasis on the short, tube socks with a blue stripe, and white athletic shoes. I knew Perry was going to be interesting when I spied him sitting in the back of the class, clandestinely spitting into a small white dixie cup. Perry was addicted to tobacco. During all class breaks he would start chain smoking like mad and strike up conversation with any and all women. After being shot down on all fronts, he'd go back inside and stuff his lip full of more tobacco, only to hunch back over that little white cup he always had with him.

I don't think Perry worried about his health much. And I'm damn sure he never touched a bottle of sunscreen in his day. Perry's skin had the fine hue of a Maine lobster. His eyes were always hidden behind some massive black sunglasses, that were in turn attached to a "leash" made of wetsuit material that rested on his neck.

I have a sneaking suspicion that one of his favorite songs is "Taking care of business." But when it came to school work, Perry was a slacker. And you may wonder how I know this. When the task of assigning a peer editor arose, Perry was assigned to me.

So I got to read Perry's stories. And he critiqued mine. The bone that Perry always picked with my stuff was that the vocabulary was too big. And man did he pick that bone often. Perry was a fucking vulture. He suggested I changed certain words, and cited the 6th grade reading level of USA Today to back up his claim. I took his suggestions to heart, and appreciated his honest opinion of my work.

My favorite memory of Perry was when I was in the bathroom at the urinals. I glanced at the stall beside me and recognized the small, white shorts draped over the cheap running shoes and knew it was Perry. I said hello. I think Perry was a little stunned that someone knew he was the one dropping the stink bomb, but he gave me a hearty what's up. Later on he asked me how I knew it was him. I said I had x-ray vision. I don't know if he believed me.

Back to the top