~ Coldplay
Excuses
My molding began when I was three years old or so. I was sitting outside, gaping at Randy and Freddy (a couple of teenagers) as they threw the football back and forth to each other. Man. They could throw far. I was about to go over to them and try my hand at the game when Randy overthrew the football. It landed right in front of me. "Don't touch it," they said. I reached down. "You'll regret it," they said, but I wasn't paying attention. I wanted to show them how well I could punt the ball. If only I could do that, they would invite me over to play catch with them. I drop kicked the ball like I had never punted anything before. It soared over their heads and into their yard.
Well, they didn't appreciate my generosity, much less my skill. They came over to my yard, picked me up by an ankle, lifted me up high, and dropped me on my head. Swear to God. No lie. Concussion number one.
I vaguely remember Sarah screaming at them. Attacking them. Trying to kill them. Maybe that's why I still go to her every time I'm in trouble. I know she'll take out anyone who tries to hurt me.
Jump forward two years or so. My father had a Democratic meeting at my family's house and I was downstairs watching John play Mario 3. The meeting had come to a close; there was nothing else to distract my parents' attention away from me and my long overdue bedtime.
Who I Am
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> Excuses
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You can AiM me at: gulrothdl -- Go for that, too.