Oliver Primstig

by Tommy Redding

Oliver Primstig was a smart boy. A nice, little smart boy. All his teachers raved about him when talking to their colleagues in the staff room at school over a slightly-lukewarm cup of coffee. His parents loved him. They had their arguments and little spats, but they still loved him and he still loved them. Oliver is 14. He is in grade 9 at Mellowsfield High School. He always did very well in school, since he first stepped into the kindergarten room at his elementary school. Well, actually, for the first week or so of kindergarten he would sit by himself, in the corner just sitting there being miserable. He wouldn't eat his lunch - it felt weird eating outside of his cozy little house and he wouldn't go to the bathroom, actually he never really got used to using the unfamiliar toilets and urinals that he encountered during his life.

One day when Oliver was doing some math homework that he had (he had a lot), he wondered why he had to do all of it. "Why," he said, "do I have to do what my teachers tell me, everyday of my life?"

"Well," said his mother, "they know what's best for you and they just want you to do the best you can in school and in life.

"Can't I do well in life without my teachers? I mean why do they have to tell me what to do? I think that I can make my own decisions." And so, with that said, Oliver Primstig walked out of his house and he walked down the road until he was out of sight. No one ever saw him again. He probably died somewhere, because everyone knows you can't live a long, successful life without going to school and listening to what your elders have to say.

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