Slap Happy Truck Drivers With Guns Suck

by Karen

Slap Happy Truck Drivers with Guns Suck Stink

Of all the things in the world that I could have been, I had to be a girl. A human girl. That's really depressing. I mean, I could have been a girl bear, a girl monkey, a girl panda, or even a girl worm! (is there really a difference between a boy worm and a girl worm?) People don't care if a girl worm is wearing the right shoes or not! If you're a girl, according to my paranoid parents, you have to be "upright", "graceful", "play piano", "clean", "do ballet", "not athletic" etc. Those are all things that I either despise or have issues with. It would be great to be my older brother, because he doesn't have to be "upright", "clean", "play piano", "do ballet", "not athletic" or any of my etceteras. Instead, he gets to do whatever he wants, and he's only 13. It would be great to be a dude. The problem is, I'm not.

Sorry about the hasty (that's such a funny word isn't it?) introduction, if you don't know me, my name's Lily. Yep, named after a flower, thank all things good that my parents are allergic to daffodils. I'm 10, I'm short, I'm not girly, I hate all things pink, I'm freakishly flexible( like one of those acrobat people at the circus, you know, the ones that are thrown really high up in the air and do tricks and yada yada yada?), I'm tall, and I'm a "child prodigy".

That last one seems to be the one that gets everyone's attention. Yeah, don't be afriad to admit that you weren't really paying attention to me before this. I get that a lot. I'm just another dumb kid, until they hear that I'm a prodigy. Whoop-dee-do.

Let's put it this way, I'm graduating high school this year and I've had a 4.6 grade point average throughout high school. Get the picture? The only thing that I suck at is athletics. Don't get me wrong, I love sports, I'm pretty decent for my age too. But the thing is, I'm with a whole bunch of 6 foot 7 giants ready to pummel me with a basketball. And it's not like I dress like a cute little 5 year old so all the big kids think I'm adorable. No, I dress in a hoodie, a t-shirt, jeans, and all the other neccesities. To put it shortly, they all hate me, and my 8 minute mile. So high school sports for me is an epic, ginormous, huge, large, big, gigantic fail. In other words, it's not my thing.

Away from me, let's get to my parents. They're extremely "worried" about my future and how I'm going to turn out. Apparently, I have "issues" and "problems". That's why the conselour sees me every Friday, well now once every month since I made her nuts, crazy, less-than-normal, or otherwise known as hysterical. They want me to turn out perfect. I swear, one day, they'll work me to death. The epitaph on my graveston will be "Here lies Lily Smith, overworked by parents". In 3 years, when I'm 13 and my endocrine system starts to mess things up inside me, they won't know what to do with me.

The story starts on the 1st day of the last week of school. We had a huge science project due today( I mean project, not project like projection as in something being shot forward. Project like the things that science teachers make you do). It was worth around half of our grade, and if I didn't get an A on it, I would get shipped off to 6th grade, no Harvard for me. For all the curious readers out there that want to know what I built, constructed, and/or created, I made a telescope. For you rather dimwitted readers , I mean not into astronomy readers,a telescope is a thingie that lets Lily see very far, Ok? My telescope's body was made out of this metal that was really hard to get my hands on, and was virtually indistructable. Pretty much the only way to destroy it is to let an army of 5 year olds get hold of it. It had pure titanium legs, and the glass in the lenses were made to withstand a catagory 5 hurricane, which is the most dangerous one. You have no idea how hard it was to get my hands on that stuff. I had to pull a few strings in the government if you know what I mean. For you aforementioned readers, that means I hacked a few computers.

So I'm skipping off to school in my hoodie and jeans, thinking about how my ectoderm developed before my epidermis while I was yet to come into this world and pleaseant thoughts such as that, la la la la la. Then, this random huge kid, thing, monster, 17 year old grabbed my telescope and threw it into the back of a garbage truck that was leaving the school just then. Did I mention that I have a really really short temper? If not, then I do. I kicked the kid in his.... Then I ran after the garbage truck. Just managing to grab on to the edge as it was about to hit 40 miles/hour. Boy, I can tell you that ride was the worst in my life.

How many of you have ridden in a really bumpy car that you could fall off of at any minute, with a gang of sweaty, gross teenagers that have rotting fruit in their armpits, while a pot of gold is right in front of you but you can't reach it because you could fall off the car? Nobody? Well that's how the ride was, in a nutshell.

Then, a thought popped into my mind. How the heck am I supposed to get my telescope unnoticed, and get back to school by 8th hour where I was supposed to turn the project in? We were already like 10 miles away from school. Well, I can kiss that A goodbye. I figured that I would think of something once the truck stopped. It was getting cold too, I thought my temperature was getting under 98.6, *gasp* I might get hypothermia!

Suddenly, the truck stopped. I climbed silently off (see, I wouldn't have been able to do that if I was wearing "girly shoes"!) and turned around, my teeth still chattering.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" I screamed like a true little girl.

Right in front of me was one of the truck drivers, and he was, you guessed it, holding a gun. Oh, you didn't guess it? Umm.... Anyway, I was in a state of shock. Then, the guy aimed the pistol, and pulled the trigger.

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