Saturday, February 10, 2007

You Know What's Funny?

It's funny when you're writing a story about when you were little for your fourth grade writing class and get to thinking about your childhood friend who you haven't seen since 7th grade when you both lived in Ohio...
[read to end for fun irony]

Egged, A True Story

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot… skates glided along the sidewalk as smoothly as skis skimming across a lake as I made my way to my friend Dana’s house. The wind blew gently through my hair as I navigated the familiar neighborhood streets. I had made this trip so often; I could probably do it in my sleep. Knowing today was going to be just another ordinary summer day with my best friend; I relaxed as I thought about the many possibilities for adventures they lay before us.

Emerged in my own thoughts, I was a bird in flight as the houses flew by, my skates pounding the pavement. I carefully slowed my pace as I neared Dana’s block, approaching the worst house on the block. The house where Billy lived. The house all the kids knew to avoid. Billy was a seventh grader and there was only one word to describe him: bully. I was surprised (and a little alarmed) to find that Billy and his gang of friends were not in the driveway as usual.

The thought left my mind as I saw Dana appear in her driveway and I began waving to her as my skates zigged and zagged me down the sidewalk toward her house. Suddenly, Dana’s cheerful face was replaced by something large. Something large and round. Something large and round and white zooming at about 200 miles per hour directly at my face! Instinctively, my hands flew to my face, but it was too late. The unidentified flying object had made a direct hit just north of my nose and absolutely exploded all over my face. I sat down on my leg. Hard.

This predicament was certainly not what I had in mind when I was imagining what fun Dana and I might have today. My leg hurt, my head hurt, and my pride definitely hurt. I could hear loud boys’ laughter coming from somewhere up high. Looking up, I tried to find the source of the noise, only to see yellow. Yellow and white stringy, slimy goo coated the outside of my glasses. What on earth had hit me? I gingerly felt around my face to find more goo, along with some shards. Thin. Sharp. Pointy. Smearing off my glasses, I gasped as I saw blood (my blood!) streaking through the goop and realized what the weapon of choice was: a raw egg. Tears filled my eyes as I tried to imagine why these cruel boys did this to me.

Dana came rushing toward me, having witnessed the entire event and helped me to my feet. “You are in SO much trouble!” she yelled furiously in the direction of Billy’s house, shaking her fist. “Come on,” she took my arm and started to guide me back to my house. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried, but it’s really difficult to maneuver your way down a sidewalk on skates with blood and egg-covered glasses. Left foot…..clump. Right foot….thud. So much for me as a bird in flight, and thank goodness for Dana. I’ve never been so glad to see my own front door before, and I frantically pushed my way inside, skates, egg, blood and all, in search of my mom.

I sat pitifully in a chair while Dana told my mom the whole story and my mom picked bits of eggshell and goo out of my hair and tried to clean the cut over my eyebrow. “I don’t understand,” my mom wondered for the third time. “Why would someone throw an egg at you?” She sat back in her chair, puzzled. I shrugged my shoulders pathetically, trying to ignore the pounding pulse in my fresh wound. Dana looked a little nervous about the thought of heading back home, so my dad offered to take her. I thanked her for her help and said goodbye.

Don’t feel too sorry for me because the story’s not over yet. The best part comes at the end. The moral of this story is: don’t throw an egg at a little kid and think you’re going to get away with it. On her way home, Dana just so happened to point out Billy’s house to my dad. My dad just so happened to knock on the door and he just so happened to mention to Billy’s dad just what Billy had done to me. That’s the story of how Billy wound up trembling on my front porch as he stumbled through an awkward apology, shaking from head to toe with tears in his eyes under his dad’s watchful glare. I rather enjoyed his moments of embarrassed discomfort and hoped that it taught him a lesson. It at least gave me the courage to keep rollerskating and not to be afraid to go by his house. In fact, I was back at it the very next day with a spanking white bandage over my eyebrow. Left foot, right foot…left foot, right foot…

The End
.....and then it's funny when you get the idea in your head to see if maybe she's on MySpace.
.....and then it's pretty weird when you find out that she is indeed on MySpace and you start corresponding via email.
.....but the weirdest thing is when you find out she lives in the same city in Texas as you do and you make plans for lunch 17 years after you last saw her in Ohio!
All because of a silly story about an egg. I guess I can thank 'ol Billy the Bully for that one. Of course, after talking to Dana in real life, I found out his name was really Robert, but does it really matter? Now I have a whole 'nother story to tell the students! Who knew?

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