What can YOU say in six sentences?
After Columbine, there was a certain unwritten list (maybe the faculty's version was actually written, come to think of it) of candidates for Most Likely to Take Us All With Him.
Atop my list was Keller.
Keller and I had a few of the same bullies but I had a best friend, Henry, who at almost 15 in 8th grade, was a 6'2" black dude and I was in rural Alabama, so no one was really fucking with me. White dudes were scared of all black dudes, and all the black dudes were scared of Henry specifically. If I'd been more aware at the time, it might have occurred to me that I was also very large, pushing 6' at 13, whereas Keller was like an anorexic Ethiopian pigmy, but aren't we all too small at 13?
I'd heard that Keller agreed to meet K-Roc (is that sillier than Kryss, his birth name?) between periods for a "thow down"--wrestling was hot then--and though I hated to miss our Roman rite of spectating the slaughter, I took a route I figured to likely be less bulletty.
I believe that there are parts of this story that are untrue, but I like the legend. And since I heard the legend on its day of birth, I feel that makes it more valid, or at least more mine.
So the story goes: Keller never even dropped his bag, just punched K-Roc in the mouth, then headbutted his nose into a mush that I wouldn't see until he returned to school several days later. Then like Bruce Stalone Shwarzenegger, silhouetting from the explosion, he quipped: Next time, I'll put my foot so far up your ass it'll quench your thirst like Gatorade.
Keller was suspended long enough for the story to grow a bit, which I think may have saved him ultimately.
The tough guys kind of slowed their shit after that, and Keller, indeed, took us all with him.