Now, this is the truth.
Back in the Haight-Asbury days, hippies gave their kids names such as “Sunday Blueberries” (true; I knew the kid). When their little tots hit school age, though, the parents went up-scale, moving to the likes of Santa Cruz where they had things like, you know, schools.
Before the first day of school, parents were told to put a big card around each kid’s neck, with their name on one side and their school bus stop on the other. Thus adorned, some strange names marched into school, including “Fruitstand.” All morning long the other kids tried to be friends, saying, “Fruitstand, help us here,” or “Fruitstand, join us in this,” but Fruitstand was silent. Even the teacher couldn’t draw him out.
Finally, it was time for the buses, so the teacher flipped over Fruitstand’s card.
On the other side, it read, “Anthony.”
Before the first day of school, parents were told to put a big card around each kid’s neck, with their name on one side and their school bus stop on the other. Thus adorned, some strange names marched into school, including “Fruitstand.” All morning long the other kids tried to be friends, saying, “Fruitstand, help us here,” or “Fruitstand, join us in this,” but Fruitstand was silent. Even the teacher couldn’t draw him out.
Finally, it was time for the buses, so the teacher flipped over Fruitstand’s card.
On the other side, it read, “Anthony.”
