Post 04 · 2026-05-02

Origin Story

Nursery school in a Lutheran church basement. The Letter People. A giant named Billy. Sagoots.

— JC '70

— as I remember it —

A 1970s Lutheran church basement nursery school: linoleum floor, scattered toys, a couple of women supervising.

We met before our memories fully formed. Nursery school in the basement of a Lutheran church. The basement had toys and some women who seemed to fart a lot. But the upstairs — the upstairs was something else.

A kindergarten classroom with the Letter People characters lining the walls — Mr. M with Munching Mouth, Miss O the Obstinate, Mr. F's Funny Feet.

1975. EMO Elementary. Kindergarten. We had the Letter People — Mr. M with his Munching Mouth, Miss O the Obstinate, Mr. F and his Funny Feet. Everyone had a favorite. Things were weird back then. We didn't question it.

VROOM VROOM

A very large kindergartner pushing a hefty wooden toy truck across the floor, oblivious; another kid sitting in its path.
Mrs. Bernstein at the classroom sink trying to contain a Tarantino-grade nosebleed.

We had a giant in our class named Billy. One day he was playing with a large wooden truck. Darren was on the ground. In the wrong place at the wrong time. A Tarantino amount of blood poured from this kid's nose and over into the sink. Mrs. Bernstein was holding the blood in a little — but it was squirting out. Lupa was there for sure.

1ST · 2ND · 3RD

First-grade school portrait energy: small JC, smaller Lupa.
Second-grade school portrait: Lupa noticeably taller, JC unchanged.
Third-grade school portrait: Lupa towers, JC same as before.

I stayed the same size for what felt like years. Lupa did not. 1st, 2nd, 3rd grade. Time passes. We learn. We play.

Two kids on a shag carpet hunched over an Atari 2600 controller, surrounded by a pile of cartridges.

Then we got Atari 2600 consoles and the real fun began. 1978 or so. Adventure was the game we were both obsessed with. We were both pretty good. We had so many cartridges that sometimes they'd be flying in the air, we'd change 'em out so fast.

A fourth-grade classroom hushed and listening as Mr. Rozzi reads from a Judy Blume novel.

4th grade. We both had this teacher, Mr. Rozzi, who read whole books to us. Judy Blume. The class shut up and listened. That was the year with the insane little girls and the little devil bully.

— SAGOOTS —

Sagoots — crew cut, denim jacket — yelling at Lupa across the playground.
Sagoots pointing at Lupa's sneakers, mid-mock.
Sagoots imitating a bad throw, jeering.
Sagoots laughing at the flower on Lupa's backpack.

Sagoots. Crew cut. Cool denim jacket. A real fucking Long Island spoiled Italian kid. He had something to say about everything. 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th grade. He was a pain in the ass. Lupa had a great middle finger that he would put behind his back. That fucker tormented us for years.

Sagoots, suddenly soft, drifting after a girl named Lynn — Hanna-Barbera-style hearts and a perfume cloud.

Then he got a girlfriend and chilled the fuck out. Lynn was cross-eyed — but not when she wore her glasses. Sagoots floated to the smell of her perfume like a Hanna-Barbera cartoon. Hearts and everything. The bully was finished.