Business in the front, rodent in the back.

In pre-school, I had an arch nemesis.

I can't for the life of me recall his name, so we'll go with Scooter. Scooter had a rat-tail.

If you don't know what that is, it's a hair"style". It's pretty much a mullet that is twisted together into a fancy little pigtail that sticks straight out the back of the victim's head. The tip points down to Hell, an extra outstretched arm pointing to its creator.

If it's any evidence, Anakin Skywalker had one in his bachelor years and shortly became Darth Vader.

Scooter was also, because of his intense caveman properties, the "school biter". Picture a living can-opener who has a thirst for blood and paste. Not together. He was classy.

Scooter's tusks would go to town on anyone who gave him any funny business. Scooter was serious, you guys.

Then came the day he approached me. He wanted my swing real bad. I had just conquered it and there was no way I was giving it up so I put on my "I'll frickin' tell" face. Not saying a word - he didn't know many - he advanced on me, jaw unhinged.

Realizing I was about to be eaten - or lose my swing - I did the only thing I could think to do. I ducked his strike and chewed on his arm.

His face twisted up into a mixture of rage, confusion and shame. His wee arms flailed. His feet pawed the ground. He twitched a little. I just swung on my prize silently - yet triumphantly - as I watched the progression from hard-featured little boy to baboon. It did not take long.

From that moment on, Scooter was demoralized to what he really was - just some weird kid with a pseudo-mullet.

This next bit I would be positive was Scooter's clever retaliation, if not for the use of clever in this sentence.

Weeks later, Scooter claimed to have learned a new word. We didn't believe him, but all we had to do was drink sippy cups and flirt with the ladies, so we gathered around him.

He jumped up on a table and began ascertaining that if a movie is ever based on this story, it will be rated R.

This alarmingly unethical behavior was what us kidz wuz all about - so I hopped on the table, bellowing the very same word. In fact, the only ones who didn't join us were the select few who already knew the word was bad.

Teacher: Ms. Wells?

Mom: Hi! Is everything okay?

Teacher: Yes, well, you see..Trey learned a new word.

Mom: Oh no, it's fine - he just can't say SIT right yet.

Teacher: That's all well and good, but this word starts with F.

Mom: I see.

After a stern talking-to from my parents, I decided that cursing resulted in people like Scooter.

I never said that word again until 7th grade - for fear of growing a very small, but very prominent, rat tail.