Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Good and Bad (05/07/09)
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TITLE: Good at being bad or bad at being good | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ed VanDeMark
05/12/09 -
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“Child I declare, I don’t know if you’re good at being bad or bad at being good.”
“I don’t mean to be bad momma.”
“What ever possessed you to throw the cat in the fish tank?”
“I don’t know.”
Momma was never a boy, so I didn’t blame her for thinking I was doing bad stuff. When you’re a boy it just comes natural; like the day I taught the little kids about using a bottle of cooking oil on the kitchen floor to make a skating rink. I didn’t plan on my sister sliding through the window and getting all cut up. Mom insisted on an answer so I made up one, because I didn’t have a clue about why I did it.
How was I expected to know the steak in the freezer was meant for company? I guess my friends and I don’t deserve fancy plates, good silver and steak for an afternoon snack.
The thing that gets me isn’t mom not understanding boy stuff; it’s when dad gets mad about em. He was a boy once. He even told us about flipping out houses on the door with a guy inside. Now he can’t even understand us cutting all the branches off our pine tree to make it into a spy tower.
I thought putting that snapping turtle in my Art teacher’s car was funny, but she didn’t seem to understand the joke. I heard the custodians laughing about it, and Principal Moran was smiling until he saw me watching him, so I guess it was funnier than she thought it was. Dad wanted me to tell him why I did it. I said “Cause” and that seemed to be a good answer until he talked with mom, then he wanted to know “Cause why.” Mom kinda came unglued when I said “Little boys are made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails.”
I don’t know why I do stuff, it just sort of happens, then somebody says something and I look up and say. “What?” Next thing I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life behind bars.
I don’t know if “I’m good at being bad or just bad at being good.” All I know is, if it’s fun it’s bad, sort of like mom and her chocolate.
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