Satire: How I became the second grade God

Over spring break I contemplated going to Panama City Beach, Fla., Mexico or some other picturesque beach to party and get a tattoo to permanently remind me of my loose morals, but instead I decided to go home and eat lunch with my 8-year-old cousin, Mary and her second-grade class. Why sacrifice fun times with college friends to eat with second graders? It’s simple; I’ve always wanted to be the coolest kid in school and this was my chance.

The first step in my plan to become the most popular kid in the second grade involved dressing the part. I decided on a wild 80’s plaid shirt to attract their short attention span, but I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair. Then, it hit me – a mohawk. I spiked my hair up, and to my dismay, two of Mary’s classmates were already sporting the faux-hawk. However, my stubble made me superior and my journey began.

Step two involved sliding my way into the pre-set status quo with witty small talk and work my way up to reason why they should worship me. However, a girl with an angelic face and overly nosey personality asked Mary if I was her father. Would Mary’s father have a faux-hawk, chocolate milk and small talk about Power Rangers, Pokemon and Percy Jackson? I think not. Once the children discovered I was not Mary’s father, my popularity began to grow exponentially and the thought of Mary roaming the streets with older men also raised interest in her — for good reason.

Next, I amazed them with my mysterious gold dollars and I was surely on my way to second grade class president when the unexpected happened.

“You see that boy down there? He picks on Mary all the time because of her glasses,” some toothless girl in bad need of speech therapy yelled from across the table.

I asked Mary if this was the truth and she quickly returned to her sandwich. I looked around the class and realized my fair cousin was the only child with glasses, and I laughed knowing by graduation, over half the table would be secretly hiding contacts because of looking at the sun, softball accidents, crack, etc…

“Young man, why are you picking on my little cousin?”

The bully did not answer, but the toothless wonder spoke again, “His daddy just died.”

I thought back to my second grade days when the counselor would come to our class and talk to us about bullying. She would preach, “Fists don’t stop arguments; talking stops arguments.” However, we all know talking started the altercation in the first place.

“I’m sorry about your dad and if you ever wanna talk to somebody, the guidance counselor’s door is always open. So don’t take it out on my cousin you little punk.”

There was cheering and celebrating. I had defeated the second grade bully and become their king. Best spring break ever.

Posted by Steve Holbert on Apr 1 2010. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry