February 7, 2011

There was a PTA meeting.  PTA stands for Parent Teacher Association.  This meeting was at my elementary school, Northwood Elementary.  It was an elementary school like one you might see in a movie. 

I was at the meeting, which is to say I was at the school where the meeting was happening.  More specifically, I was out on the playground, a place with which I was well familiar.  I was there with my big brother and some other kids whose parents were in attendance.  One such child was Adam Wheeless.  He was a nice fella, and I always got along with him, which is more than I can say for some of the other dudes he ran with.  I harbor no hard feelings about this, for you see, I was a wanksta from time to time.

Anyway, back to the fucking action, right?  So, we (somewhat as a group) make our way out to the dugout, whose intended purpose was to facilitate baseball, kickball, or softball (in no particular order).  We arrived and decided that some of us should climb onto the top of the dugout.  It follows then that we decided to huck things at the people on top of the dugout with hopes of knocking them off.  Naturally, we didn't really anticipate accomplishing this, and had we really thought about it, we'd have realized that our intention wasn't actually to be successful in this endeavor.  In fact, the thought of it, in hindsight, 17 years later, is quite violent. 

Of course, on this fateful day, I was unlucky enough to realize this goal.  Wheeless was my victim.  The tool?  We had earlier discovered a dirty sock and filled it with pebbles and dirt.  It was this which pelted Adam in the forehead, causing him to fall off the dugout.  He was upset, naturally, and I was terrified, naturally.  I ran to into the meeting to seek shelter from a pending attack.  Running like a mama's boy.  It worked.  Adam chased me until the door of the meeting, yet the pomp of the meeting clearly was sufficient to shut him down.  I was saved by pomp.