Date: Sat, 13 Jan 2007 18:35:04 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Big Ned 6

Big Ned 6

By Bald Hairy Man

This is pure fantasy.  It is not intended for minors or for persons who are
offended by all male sex. If you are offended, Don't read it!

Teaching High School is a low-level, high-stress job. Ninety percent of the
time it's ordinary and straight forward, but there is always the potential
for a problem. Teenagers are, by definition, unstable. When you combine sex
drive, hormones and growth spurts with ignorance and sophistication, you
have the typical teenager.

That is, if there was such a thing as a typical teenager. Some were mature,
others hadn't begun to mature. The worst of them had no intention to
mature. The most difficult ones were the surly, world weary, we know-it-all
types. It's bad when the kids are so clueless, they don't realize they are
clueless.

That defined my fifth period class.  I normally handled the college bound
sections. Mr. Barber, the Business teacher usually taught the class, but he
became the wrestling coach, so they lightened his load, by over loading me.

It would have been easier to teach a class of rocks.  They would have been
more responsive.  By mid semester one girl and two boys showed some signs
of life, the rest were just putting in time. None of them took criticism as
anything but an insult. I tried to address this by doing a section on a
novel and then discussing different reviews and critiques.  A few of them
got it.

I was in the middle of a class when I heard someone shouting in the hall.
I went out to see what was up. There was an older man in dirty clothes
screaming at one of our students.

"What is going on here?" I shouted in my study hall voice.

"None of your fucking business," he yelled.  "This bitch has been screwing
every stud in this school."

"Get out of here now, or I'll call security!" I said firmly. "This is not
the time or the place for that kind of talk. This is a school."  I was
really pissed. I had more experience with dealing with rowdy students than
I wanted to admit.  You had to be firm, but not mad.  I did not realize the
man was armed.

He pulled a gun and aimed at the girl's head. I lunged forward and we
wrestled. I was badly overmatched. The girl ran away. There was a shot. For
some reason I fell to the floor. I didn't feel the shot.  He ran into the
classroom across the hall.  Fortunately it was empty. By now the school
alarms were going off and I could hear sirens.

The classroom door was open and I could see him shooting out the window at
someone.  I was feeling odd.  It took me a little while, but I realized I
wasn't feeling much of anything at all.  That was a problem.  I was in view
of the shooter, between him and my fifth period class.

I could hear the other teachers barricading themselves in their
classrooms. That was what they were supposed to do. Each teacher was
responsible for his or her class. I tried to move out of the shooter's
sight, but I couldn't move at all. It turned out that might have saved my
life.  He thought I was dead.

The alarm was driving me crazy, but it stopped.  I could see police at one
end of the corridor.  The man was yelling, "Let me kill the bitch and I'll
give up!"  That didn't seem like a good negotiating position to me. "I've
got hostages," he added.

He didn't, but there was no way for the police to know.  The doors in the
hall alternated, so he couldn't see my classroom door.

"Mr. McDonough, are you alive?" a voice whispered.  It was Tiffany, one of
my students. She had snuck into the corridor.  The shooter was yelling out
of the window at the police.

"Get back into the classroom," I whispered.  "Barricade it!"

"Are you shot?"

"I think so, I can't feel anything," I said.  "Tell the police.  There is
no hostage."  Tiffany went back into the room. Most of the kids had cell
phones, so the word would get out. A little later Kenny came out.  Kenny
was one of my Goth students.

He waited for the Shooter to start a yelling session. "You still can't feel
anything?" he whispered.

"Nope," I replied. "Am I bleeding?"

"Don't worry, we'll get you," he said.  He was back into the classroom
before I could tell him not to try anything. The shooter calmed down. I
could hear a woman talking with him on a cell phone.  It must have been his
mother.

He started screaming again.  Shots rang out again. He must have had more
weapons than the gun I saw. I started to move.  It was Big Ned sliding my
body down the corridor out of the shooter's view. As soon as I was out of
view of the door, several of the kids were helping. They were really
careful to keep me still, without jiggling.

As soon as I was in the class room and the door was closed, there was an
explosion.  The SWAT team was on the move. EMTs were with me in seconds.
The window in the classroom had been removed and EMTs entered through the
opening.

I woke up a few days later.  Mrs. Stevenson was by my bed. "Thank you
Jesus," she said. She wasn't swearing, she was praying.

"What happened?"

"Let me get Dr. Watson," she said, "I'll tell you everything later."  She
ran to the nurse. For the next hour was I enveloped in a cloud of nurses
and doctors. My brother Rick and mother appeared. Mom was wheel chair bound
and lived with Rick and his family. Dr. Watson shooed them all away.

"You need to rest," he said.

"Can you tell me what's up?"

"Bad news first.  Right now you're paralyzed from the neck down," he said.
"We think some of it is temporary.  We don't know how much, but we think as
the swelling from the wound goes down, you will get feeling and use back."

"That's a little better than I thought," I said.

"It's iffy," the doctor said. "You understand that?"

"Am I right in thinking iffy is better than the alternative?"

He smiled. "You got a lot of friends.  They been watching you for 24-7
since you got here," he said.  I wanted to ask more questions, but fell
asleep. For the next few days I slept a lot. I woke up once and a while. My
brother was there several times and there was always a teacher. A few days
later I woke in the middle of the night.  Ned was there.

"You got the midnight shift?" I asked.

"Damn, I'm glad you're alive," Ned said.

"You have a lot to do about that," I said.

"I may have made it worse," he said, almost crying. " He was shooting
through the walls.  They're just drywall, so he was going to hit someone
eventually. They were going to get him. Concussion grenades followed by an
attack.  I figured you would be better if we got you out of the way.  I'm
not sure."

"I thought I was dead," I said. "As far as I can tell, I'm ahead of the
game."

Ned smiled. "You really think that?" he asked. "You aren't mad at me?"

"No, I hadn't even considered that." I said. "Can you tell me what
happened? Was anyone else hurt?"

"The school watchman was wounded. Mrs. Albers was shot through the wall but
it was minor," Ned explained.  "No students were hurt. All the teachers did
well. I'll tell you.  The kids are a lot more appreciative of the teachers
now. The shooter gave up.  Drunk as a skunk. The girl was his daughter. He
didn't like her boyfriend."

"The Police say if you hadn't stopped him from killing his daughter, he
could have killed scores of people.  He had five or six hundred rounds of
ammo," Ned continued. "That's more than you need to kill one person."

"He wanted to become famous?"

"That's they way they see it," Ned replied.

A nurse came in with an aid.  "Ned, you need to leave, while I change his
dressings," she said.

Ned squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

"Do that again!" the nurse said. Ned squeezed my hand again. I grasped his
hand. "Get Dr. Watson!" the nurse cried. "He's responsive!"  From that day
on, things got better. In some ways I felt worse. I could now feel pain,
but more parts of me were working. A week later I could walk some.

I wanted to get out of the hospital, but I would need some help for a
while. Rich offered to take me home, but when I saw his wife, I knew that
was impossible. Mom was in a wheelchair and she wasn't making much sense
all the time anymore. They had three kids. Ellen was a good woman, but
enough was enough. I would be way too much.

Dr. Watson was looking into a nursing home, when Ned and Ellis came to the
rescue. Summer vacation was a week away.  They said I could stay with one
or the other through the summer. They could take me to the physical
therapist and to the hospital for check ups. I didn't want to impose of
them, but I really didn't want to go to a nursing home.

I could move well sometimes, but I got dizzy easily and from time to time I
would lose strength in my legs and arms. There was nerve damage and my
brain was trying to reprogram damaged connections.  Dr. Watson gave me a
technical explanation for what was going on, but this was my
understanding. He also told me I was incredibly lucky.  The bullet was an
eighth of an inch from leaving me totally paralyzed, or dead.

"You were a lot more cheerful when you talked to me after I woke up," I
said.

"I didn't think you'd wake up at all," he said. "I got carried away."

I went to stay with Ellis until the end of school, then I'd stay with Ned
during the summer.  Ellis had a neighbor who would check on me during the
day when he was at school. Alton was a retired railroad man who lived next
door.  He looked like a somewhat under weight Santa Claus.  He was cheerful
almost to a fault. At first I thought it was his effort to cheer me up, but
I soon discovered Alton was congenitally cheerful.

He also loved Ellis' hot tub. That was fine with me. The tub was
relaxing. I asked Ellis if Alton knew our sexual preferences. Ellis said
no, but Alton didn't mind getting nude.  "Alton is well equipped," Ellis
said, "but I have no idea if it's in working order. He's a great guy, but
not my cup of tea sexually.  He does like to get naked."

Every morning I would have coffee with Ellis before he went off to
school. Alton would arrive and we would have a real breakfast. He would
take me to rehab for several hours. Alton would help out, they he'd go talk
to some of the other patients. He did really well with the older patients
and the smaller kids.  They thought he was Santa.

We'd go home and have lunch, then it was time for the hot tub.  "I've got a
touch of arthritis," Alton said. "That hot tub makes me feel good for
hours."  He helped me undress. My left side didn't work that well, so some
help made it much easier for me. Once I was in the water, Alton got into
the tub.

Alton was heavy set. When he helped me into the tub, I realized he was
solid and strong. His long white beard merged with his chest hair. His
chest hair flowed across his gut then descended to his thick bush. He had
huge, low hanging balls in a hair-covered sack.  The balls were his main
attraction.  The cock was all but non existent. Uncut, Alton's cock lurked
deep inside the thick foreskin.

Once we were in the water I did some exercises. Most things were really
simple, but others were all but impossible at first. Something wasn't
working right. The therapist explained is as a bad circuit.  By doing the
same movement over and over again, my body would find an alternative path.
This was boring, but Alton was a railroad man.  He didn't get bored.

He also talked incessantly. "I hope you don't mind an old naked man," Alton
said.

"I've got no problem," I said. "You like getting naked?"

"I do," he replied, "It was a surprise. A few years ago I came over here
and Ellis was in the tub.  He asked me to join him and I did.  I hadn't
been naked in front of anyone since high school.  My wife was a very modest
woman.  It was always dark. I walked in on her once in the bath.  She was
shocked. I never did that again."

"Ellis had no problem being naked," I said.  "He's a jock."

"I was afraid he'd make fun of me," Alton said. "I know I'm no dream boat."

"You're in pretty good shape," I said, "you have no need to be worried."

"Well, I guess you could say I'm a grower not a shower," Alton
explained. "Until I get it up, I've got an inny not an outie."

I laughed. "As long as you can get it up and it's in working order, who
cares?"

"That's the way I see it," he replied.

"Frankly, I'm more worried about the working part of my cock, than its
decorative aspects," I said. "I haven't used it in a while."

"Maybe the therapist has an exercise for that?" Alton suggested.

"I wish someone did," I said.  When I looked at Alton, he winked. I smiled,
then asked, "Exactly how well do you like Ellis?"

"Well, you could say I know a lot more about myself then I did before I
knew him," Alton said. "He told me you were a member of the brotherhood. I
had no idea in the world I was. I had no idea after fifty years of all but
sexless marriage, I would become a sex crazed, seventy-year-old.  I also
had no idea anyone as handsome as Ellis would give me the time of day."

"He's an unexpectedly nice man," I said. "I miss red him. He struck me as
an uptight jock." As I spoke, Alton bent over and sucked my cock.

It had been a long while and fortunately, Alton didn't suffer form whiplash
as my cock went from flaccid to fully erect in a second or two.