"Homeschool Sex Machine": One Man's Humorous Look At His Homeschool Uprbinging.

My name is Matthew Pierce and I write stuff.  Sheldon is handing me the reins for
a guest post to introduce my new ebook.

Homeschool Sex Machine: Babes, Bible Quiz, and the Clinton Years  is a collection of stories about homeschool secret societies, deranged Sunday School teachers, and youth pastors with frosted tips.  

It also contains the word “bosoms,” which has
earned the ebook a well-deserved blacklisting from several Christian websites.

So, about me: I grew up in a conservative church environment and was homeschooled for approximately 37 years.  

 Thanks to an ingenious plan wherein I grew to the freakish height of 6'8, I was eventually able to enroll in a private school under the guise of "playing basketball". In reality, this was just a cover that allowed me to get close to girls.

Because if there’s one thing that babes love, it’s a homeschooled boy with Three Stooges ties and no social skills. 

 So, hey: think about picking up my ebook.  It’s only $2.99 on Amazon, and
 it has loads of awesome stuff in it: Biblical pickup lines, homemade
 Christian comic books, and—of course—bosoms.

  Here’s an excerpt:

The Covenant Christian Homeschool Band met in a large house next to a church, and if you ever needed to find it all you had to do was follow the procession of cargo vans with Bush/Quayle '92 bumper stickers. Mothers is jean skirts loitered in the church parking lot, their hair bundled tight against all encroachments of fad or fashion.

Before practice the kids would congregate in front of the house and attempt to play football on the grass. No one really knew anything and actual football, and the games resembled a sort of very polite game of hot potato.

The class was taught by a very tired looking woman named Mrs. Neeley. She had what appeared to be several dozen children, almost all of the boys. My mother talked to Mrs. Neely on the first day of class and they decided that I would be in the class that wore red turtlenecks, which was probably the class for prodigies.

Very early in the proceedings I was pegged as a woodwind. I was given a clarinet and several practice manuals to study at home.

 The entire class would soon bear witness to my meteoric rise, as I soared to the position of fifth chair clarinet in a section of six clarinets. 

There were tons of babes in homeschool band. One of the oboe players even had a beauty mark above her lip just like Cindy Crawford, even if I didn't know who or what a Cindy Crawford was. One of the girls in the flute section had actual bosoms.

All of the girls were probably into clarinet players, I reasoned. Probably just drove them crazy. Maybe it was the color; a black horn. Black as midnight. Dark and mysterious, like me.
 

During class my mind would race furiously, creating elaborate scenarios where Bosoms or Beauty Mark would fall in love with me. I imagined Bosoms being cornered in an alley by a gang of public school boys. I would arrive at the critical moment, clarinet in hand. "Not so fast", I'd say, the only catchphrase I knew.

I would swing the woodwind back and forth like a sword, knocking the swarthy heathens across the alley with brute force. Once rescued, Bosoms would fall into my embrace, really overwhelmed and stuff. She would wrap her arms around me, and for the first time, I would see that the color of her braces matched mine. Fate. She'd lean forward to kiss me and then ---

 And then, Mrs. Neeley was calling my name. The whole band class was staring at the 5th Chair Clarinet and wondering why he was on second base with his horn. Quickly I fiddled with the reed, investigating some phantom malfunction. It's okay.

Mrs. Neeley. I think I fixed it.

Up in the front row, Bosoms sat quietly with her flute in her lap, pretending not to notice. Pretending that there wasn't already a connection between us. 

I knew better.

(Sheldon's note: If you wish to contact Matthew Pierce, you can find him on his Facebook page or e-mail him at matthewpierce13 (at) gmail (dot) com)