Charlie Brown’s high school reunion
Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.
-Charles M. Schulz
The first thing most people will wonder when they hear about Charlie Brown’s high school reunion is whether Lucy brought a football.
For someone wishing to write about Charlie Brown’s high school reunion this is tremendously disappointing. There are so many other topics that would seem to be much more captivating.
An obvious one being was Peppermint Patty a lesbian? No. After a few female relationships in college she embraced men and was married with two children at the time of the reunion.
Marcie however came out her sophomore year of high school. She is now a message therapist.
I realize that the football is a metaphor for a great many things, but none as interesting as the fact that Schroeder, the piano-playing prodigy, moved to New York upon graduation from high school and eventually got hooked on drugs. His whereabouts at the time of the reunion were unknown.
Certainly that must trigger some powerful emotions in you. No? The tragic artist? Nothing?
I almost hate to mention this, but Franklin, the lone black kid amongst the old gang, died at the hands of police. Really shitty timing to bring that up right? I’d prefer not to go into the details. Not really a Peanuts vibe.
On a brighter note, Linus teaches Mythology in Literature and the Arts at the local community college. He is also married. Not to Sally though. Sally remained obsessed with him throughout high school and was later sent to a psychiatric facility until she grew out of it. Word was that Linus wouldn’t leave his car and enter the gym for the reunion until someone had confirmed that she was nowhere near the premises.
Although not technically part of their graduating class, I will mention that Sally went on to become a psychologist.
Pig Pen cleaned up his act and now works for the Department of Sanitation. I would say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but when I thought about that quote and how it relates to a boy surrounded by dirt and filth through his entire childhood it made my head hurt. What tree am I referring to? Even Sally with her PhD would be scratching her head.
Sometimes asking questions causes more (good) grief than they are worth. Like asking if the football was just the manifestation of sexual tension between Charlie Brown and Lucy.
Snoopy is long dead. He did not father any litters so that wonderful dog DNA has been lost forever. Same with Woodstock. He flew into a car windshield and was later eaten by a cat.
And Charlie Brown?
Well, when he went to college he changed his name to Chuck and started a band. While they never reached any level of notoriety, he did get to nail the little redheaded girl after she saw a show in the basement of a frat house during college.
He ended up getting into chartered accountancy after college and lives in a modest house not far from where he grew up. He was married for a few years but, it didn’t work out between them so they split. There were no children.
Lucy never married. She is an attorney and the terror of Florida’s Second District Court of Appeal. Her hobbies include biking, cooking and Krav Maga.
I know, I know. All you care about is whether or not she brought a football to the reunion. Why does it matter so much to you?
Of course she brought a fucking football to the reunion! And of course, after a few drinks, she asked Charlie Brown if he wanted to go out to the parking lot and give it a good kick.
That’s the nature of women.
And of course he said yes.
That’s the nature of men.
And of course she pulled it away and he went flying and landed on the asphalt and needed four stitches in the back of his still-disproportionately-large head to stop the bleeding.
That’s the nature of sexual tension.
And when Charlie arrived home later that night Lucy was waiting for him outside his house and they fucked like wild animals. When Chuck climaxed he let loose a resounding “AAUGH!”
That’s the nature of my imagination.
A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.
-Charles M. Schulz