My Favorite things about Summer School.
It was a cool, crisp day at 7:30 AM in the morning on Monday. I was contemplating the task before me which I had accepted the previous Monday from a loud mouth braggart named Lil Jack. As I rode to school that day in the car, I didn't know if I would be able to do it. I stepped out of the car wearing nothing but pants and a baseball cap and I found myself standing in front of the largest crowd I had ever seen. I walked toward the crowd and it separated allowing a path up to the school steps and waiting for me was my opponent. He was the biggest, fattest, ugliest, meanest, evilest bully in the whole school, no, in the whole city! I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs unsure of whether I would live to see the next sunrise. At that moment I wanted to grow wings and fly as far away from that spot as I could possibly be. If you haven't already guessed, my daunting task was to beat up Fat Ass Jack, the baddest bully in the whole city. I recall that the only reason I had foolishly accepted the bet was because I was that damn bored. What would I receive if I survived the experience, you ask? Only twenty dollars and the city-wide fame of everyone knowing my name. It was not meant to be though for I never got the chance to do battle with him. The reason amazes me even to this very day when I think about it. Just as I was placing my foot on the first granite step the loud crack of a shotgun going off was heard. Seconds later, screams could be heard coming from the back of the crowd and the crowd started to separate and thin out a little. I glanced up at Fat Ass Jack thinking that this was some stunt he had paid someone to pull. I expected to see him standing there bellowing with laughter; however, I saw a quite different sight. On his face was a look of consternation and the most aghast look of fear I had ever seen. Then, faster than I can tell you this tale, Fat Ass whirled around and galloped down the stairs taking them two at a time. He tore down the street like a runaway train. I didn't believe my eyes, and I didn't know it was possible within any of our current laws of physics for such a large, fat person to move that fast. Due to my stupid curiosity as to what frightened him, I turned slowly around to find myself face-to-face with a nine foot tall monster that was three times fatter than Fat Ass Jack. Standing beside him was Lil Jack who was now reduced to tears from an obvious beating. I learned that it was Fat Ass Jack's father and that Lil Jack was his smaller, weaker, younger brother, ironically. His father's name was Sir Dave. Sir Dave appologized for his sons' mischief and immaturity. He informed me that this was the third time they had attempted to accomplish this fight-bet stunt and that it would be the last time they would attempt it. He offered to take me to a restaurant for dinner and I accepted his offer because I knew my mother would not have dinner prepared for me. She did not expect me to live that long! I still pity her lack of faith in my ability. I was informed that when Fat Ass Jack eventually returned home, he would be promptly shipped off to boot camp! I sort of feel sorry for a guy of Fat Ass Jack's, how should I put it, dimensions, having to go through the agony of boot camp but he deserved it!
Parents just don't understand my need for freedom. I need to be free to make my own decisions. They don't understand that I can't sleep and that I don't fall asleep until after midnight so I should be able to stay up until I am tired. They don't understand the identity crisis. I need freedom to try new things and to discover myself without being ridiculed or punished for experimenting. I hate it when they claim to understand when yet they really don't. They can't understand just because they were my age once! The world and society is different from what it was 25 years ago so they couldn't possibly understand the situations of this new day and age that I experience. Parents just don't understand music. They don't understand how it helps me deal and cope with life. They don't understand how it helps me express myself and my feelings and emotions that have no words to describe them. They don't understand that it helps me escape reality into a daydream world of my own where I can forget my problems for awhile. Parents just don't understand cussing. They need to understand that cussing is a healthy form of expressing ones anger verbally. Sometimes I wonder; would they rather I cuss, or beat the shit out of my little brother? They don't understand that I don't like chores. I'm too lazy and too busy with my own problems to do housework that parents are supposed to do in the first place!
Is there something that you think parents don't understand? Are you on the other side of the spectrum as in you are a parent and think that kids are brats and THEY just don't understand? I am open minded so I am open to hearing both sides of the argument. I'd love to hear your opinions and views so e-mail them to me HERE |~~~~> 
When I have enough of your views and opinions I will open a forum and post each and every comment on the subject to my website. I only have so much web space so please don't send me any 4 page essays. Thank you!
The Circle of Life (in my world)
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