March 18, 2003
Childhood memories of a president
I'm a 7th grader and in general, I think I'm getting along pretty well with the boys (not so much with the girls) at school. I'm not terribly smart, but not stupid neither: I have a sense of self-awareness. I have wealthy parents. They help me out when things get messy, like in the past year when I kept on failing that math test. They talked to the stupid teacher, then. I'm pretty good at math, now.
I play football. When we need to split up in groups, I'm never picked up last by the team chiefs. They know I'm good fun to be on the team. I'm a daredevil.
I'm a tough guy, I'm not afraid of anything. That's at least how I pretend to be. But basically, you know, I'm scared to shit since that day.
I'm a big boy who gets goaded into doing silly things by his friends all the time. Like last year, when I put that barn on fire. My friends were cheering and yelling at me. They never thought I dared to do such a thing.
It was a hot and dry summer day, that day. We were sitting in a barn, smoking sigarets and drinking root beer. There was lots of dust in that barn, and I had to sneeze. I was a bit drunk too. We had been talking about girls, but I kept silent for most of the afternoon.
I was playing around with my friend's lighter (I'm not allowed by my parents to carry around one myself), when my friends told me I should make a fire. That it would be so cool. I like to be cool, and I like it when they see me as the daredevil: a fire in a barn full of hay! So I made a little fire, and Ken and Chucky were cheering. I made some more fire: my friends loved it! Then Becky, Chucky's girlfriend which I really digged a lot, she was afraid. I told her to be cool, and threw some more stuff at the fire. Becky was angry, and she left.
It was then that I saw that can of fuel in the corner of the barn. I really like to play with fire. It makes me feel great. Ken and Chucky saw me looking at the can, and they started cheering even more. They said I would be a coward if I didn't finish the job. I hate it when someone calls me a coward. I really hate that. So I took the can. Big woosh. Fire everywhere. Ken and Chucky ran outside. I was just behind them, but then I tripped over some piece of wood and I fell down.
When I scrambled back to my feet, I was all alone, in the middle of that huge corn field. I looked back and the entire barn was on fire. Ken and Chaucky were speeding away, and these four big farm boys were walking up on me. I hate it when that happens.
I was so scared. I felt so lonely. My friends were gone. My palms were sweaty, and without my friends cheering, I didn't felt so cool and tough anymore.
_When you are living to please your audience, and the audience makes you pretend you're a different kind of guy than you really are, where do you go if the audience leaves?_
My name is George. I'm still angry they did that to me. I still like fire. And I'm mad. Really mad. Care to look at me?
Comments
still think i'll only trust a female bush....
Posted by: Herb at March 18, 2003 05:43 PM