Category — short stories

During 5th grade recess we’d play X-Men and I’d demand to be Storm. While the other kids fought over Prof X, I’d see the trees start to move at the edge of the soccer field and extend my arms to the sky. In my head, the wind would rush in, sweeping my hair into an angry lion’s mane. Dark thunder clouds tumble into the sky and thunder shakes the school yard. A thunderbolt strikes a nearby tree. I’d give a knowing nod at the other kids– and they’d run for cover. Sending a lightning bolt into a tree was flexing my bicep–harmless. I’d lower my arms and the sky clears and the birds start singing again. Then I go inside, because recess is only 15 minutes.

In 7th grade I did an auditory book report on Jimmy Carter— as Jimmy Carter. Clad in my dad’s suit and grandpa’s tie, in a southern accent (I’d perfected from watching Forrest Gump) I explained broken-down Carter politics. La Grande Middle School learned about how my former life as a peanut farmer shaped my future, and the nation’s. I hope we all learned something. You’re welcome young America.

Some people have no sense of humor. Like my boss at this corporate job who didn’t think “The Wire” counted as a legitimate source to shorten police officers to “police”, or that “t-bagging” was appropriate in a family video store or when I took a pic of my fecal matter and passed it around the company email. He’d get fussy and I’d say, ‘now, don’t get short with me’, and he’d get more fussy (he was just a hair taller than a leprechaun.) I didn’t get all fussy when he thought his line, “Santa, you sleigh me!” for Christmas retail signage was genius–and I was honestly offended.

Everyone has a special talent they can develop. Mine is pretending to be pregnant. I can expand my stomach cavity, appearing as if I’m 6 months preggers. It’s been useful. I can be waiting in line and say, “Oh man, my feet are sooo swollen” then Go-Go-Gadget that gut and and wallah—-instant cuts. The belly is a hit at parties, bars, funerals, and when I met my boyfriend’s parents. I’m working on the website: www.PreggerThatParty.com to let you book an insta-party. Don’t steal my idea.

(Look who is trying to rip off my idea.)