An Ode To The Old

An Ode To The Old-School Playground of Death

There is an abandoned playground near my apartment. It's a class-action lawsuit waiting to happen, but even before it was rusting away, this thing was dangerous. It was built in the days before parents expected every one of their children to live past the age of eight. You'll find no soft plastic or foam rubber here. Just hard, unforgiving wood and steel. In short; it's awesome. Let's take a tour shall we?

It seems so innocent from this distance. It's impossible to see the horrors that lie inside.	Here's another angle. Don't play coy with me playground, I'm on to you.
Oh, Carousel, how many chipped front teeth and broken arms are you responsible for? Answer me!	"Hey, let's play on this playground." "What's that sign say?" "I don't know, I'm only six, I can't read yet." "Wee! Oh no, it's collapsing! I'm pinned underneath the rubble!" "Why God? Why have you foresaken us?"
A big hole rusted out of the steps. Always a good sign.	Remember, that's the playground talking, not me.
Just one of the many, many shards of broken glass that lie hidden in the sand, just waiting for soft flesh to slice into.	This is me about to go down the slide. It was the best slide ride of my life. Of course, half-way down, the slide collapsed and I spent six months in the hospital with a broken back. But, it was worth it. Thanks Old-School Playground of Death!

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