I AM SITTING...

in a school meeting during my FRESHMAN year of High School staring at the ceiling, ignoring daily announcements when I first heard it.  "Click!"  "Clip!" "Snap!"  I cased the room in search of a culprit.  Nothing.  Nobody else was even flinching.  I thought I'd finally lost my grip on reality.  For a second I imagined the RICE CRISPIES characters sitting behind me jumping around, but of course they weren't.  Then I heard it again.  "Snap!"  That's when I noticed a rather large, suspicious, white-bearded HUMAN at the end of my row.  I suspected the sound was coming from his direction.  I watched him closely.  I noticed him focusing on his hands as the HEADMASTER continued to speak.  I turned away, then... "SNIP!" "Crack!'  I quickly snapped my head back at the Santa Claus look alike and the sonofabitch was clipping his fingernails!

I bursted out with laughter.  I laughed so hard I almost had a coronary.  The kid to my left elbowed me in the gut and said, "Dude, what are you doing?"  While continuing to chuckle I pointed down the row and replied, "That WILDMAN is clipping his fingernails."  The kid didn't even sneak a peek (what a sissy)... he just gave me "the nod" to look forward.  Slowly I realized everyone in the room was staring at me, including the Headmaster and Fred Claus' brother.  Some nerve.

The Headmaster glared at me with a look I'll never forget, and then in front of the entire student body he said, "Is there something you'd like to add, Mr. Richerson?"  To which I promptly replied, "No sir."  I couldn't believe it.  How was nobody else laughing?  Was this normal?  I'm at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country and one of the faculty members is clipping his nails in PUBLIC!  And I thought I was moving up a social class by going here... Guess not.  What the fuck was going on!  Nobody said a word.  Important announcements are happening and human nail shrapnel is flying all over the place.  It was a war zone!  You've got to be kidding me.  I wondered, "Can this dude really get away with that?"  And the answer is... YES.

Through the grapevine I heard Mr. Holmes (Kris Kringle) had been cutting his TALONS during school meetings for years.  And since he'd been at the school for 30 years, everybody was afraid to say anything.  This included the Headmaster who had only been there for about 10 years.

Mr. Holmes was one of the ON DUTY study hall monitors in my dorm, so I made it my personal project to know everything there was to know about this guy before I dropped the big question.  I started by chatting with him for a few minutes every night he was around.  Everyone else thought I talked with him to get out of doing homework (that was part of it), but I truly wanted to know what made the MADMAN tick.

Mr. Holmes was a big man.  He stood 6'5 and I'm guessing he weighed in roughly around 290.  I wasn't afraid of him.  I wanted to get to know him... key in on his madness.  How was he so well respected that people were willing to shrug off the fact he was clipping his nails directly onto their heads?

Through our conversations I learned he fought in a war.  I can't recall which one, but it was probably the Revolutionary War.  He also played professional football for the GREEN BAY PACKERS in the 50's.  He was an avid sports fan and a staple in the art department at my school.  He was also a CERAMICS teacher.  I was floored when he told me.  This big maniac threw pots all day?  Yup.  And he was awesome at it.  Did I mention he laughed a lot?  Well he did... And at a decibel level that would frighten a T-Rex.

I got into trouble later that year and was sentenced to Weekend Work Detail during the winter term.  Coincidentally, my job was to shovel the entire Holmes residence, including the driveway, both front and back walkways, porches, and the flat part of the roof just above the porch.  Good thing we were hit with 27 inches of snow on Friday.  Shit.  He laughed at me while I furiously shoveled his 1970's model VOLVO out of a snow drift.  I wanted to Karate chop him in his beard.  Finally, he offered me a cup of hot cocoa and we chatted for a bit on the porch.  He told me about the fierce winters of Green Bay and how hard the playing surface was.  "It was like playing on the TURNPIKE, HAHAHAHA!!!" he cackled.  I stared at him in awe.  He was nuts, but kind of likable. 

Sophomore year I took ceramics.  I thought since I was in with Holmes, I'd cruise to an easy A.  I thought wrong.  Turns out, I'm the WORST potter on the planet.  Clay and I are not friends.  I was worse than Demi Moore in "Ghost" and I didn't even have Patrick Swayze breathing down my neck.  I received a C for my masterful work in the class and was not happy about it.  I tried hard as shit though, ceramics just wasn't my thing.  When Mr. Holmes handed me my grade during the final week of class, he laughed yet again, and I wanted to yell out, "Go clip your nails ya fucking jerk!"

By the time Senior year came around, Mr. Holmes and I were quite friendly.  He was at every one of my football and basketball games.  He always made comments like, "The game's changed quite a bit since my day, HAHAHAHA!!!"  I would just laugh along with the jolly old fellow.  Funny thing is... I never saw the guy around Christmas time.  I used to imagine him up at the North Pole making toys for all the good boys and girls, laughing away... Or maybe he just hibernated for the month of December.

A few weeks before I graduated, I was sitting in another school meeting and I heard it again.  That noise I had heard so many times during High School.  "Clip!"  I turned around just to make sure and there was Holmes sitting in the same spot clipping away at his nails... Scaring the shit out of the Freshman class.  I shook my head and smiled.  I was ready.  Immediately following the meeting, I marched right up to him and said, "Hey Mr. Holmes, how come you clip your nails during school meeting and not at home?"  He stopped in his tracks and looked down at me with the DEVIL in his eyes.  This was obviously not a familiar question.  Without answering he walked on.  I caught up to him and continued, "Isn't it weird how nobody says anything to you?"  He stopped again and just looked at me like I impregnated his Great Granddaughter.  I went on, "It's kind of crazy, right?"  Then he leaned over me continuing to stare at me with this serious scowl and said, "CRAZY, HAHAHAHAHA!!!"  And he kept on walking... Laughing at me along the way.  I just stood there like I'd been hit by a MACK TRUCK.  That mystery will never be solved.

Ten years later I often find myself sitting in my living room clipping my nails in front of the TV.  Although I do it with some tact by keeping a mini trash can beneath me to catch the clippings and I pick up the rest by hand, my roommate still complains.  And when he does, I unleash this diabolical laughter into the air.  I guess that's just me channelling Mr. Holmes.  Every time I cut my nails for the rest of my life, I will think of that WILDMAN.  I bet he's clipping his nails right now at a STARBUCKS... laughing like a mad scientist.  And I bet my bottom dollar... Not a soul in sight says a word to him.  Keep clipping Mr. Holmes.