B!tche% and @ueen%

   The story of my life is not worth telling, but my counselor wants me to write out “all my life experiences”.

…What?!

   But my parents have bribed me with a car if I continue to go to my “counselor” and do everything she tells me to.  So, I’ll give this a shot, can’t hurt to write about my mundane life in hell.

   I was born August 3^rd in the small town of Calemsville, population 3,225.  My mother always complained I had a big city attitude, which was true.  My whole life this whole town has been too small for me.

   Most of the things I found amusing included: painting park benches without telling people, putting glue on toilet seats at school, taking all of the pencil sharpeners out of the walls, breaking the taillights on every car in the town, smashing mailboxes, and other such things.  Needless to say most of my adventures ended with me in handcuffs, sitting in the city jail, and my parents getting to be on a first name basis with every police officer in the small town- all 8 of them.

   Now, I’m not a bad kid- just bored.

   And idle hands are the devil’s handiwork, my mother always likes to tell me that when she picks me up from the police station.

   I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got blamed for the Shaler barn catching fire 2 summers ago.

   That’s when the whole counseling thing started.

   It was July- hotter than hell.  We’d gotten no rain in weeks and everything was hurting from it.  Every surface was covered in dust, you breathed in more dust than air.  Everyone parked themselves in front of a fan with a huge glass of cold ice tea.

   Even I was lying low and staying out of the sun, except when I was taking my four wheeler through the desert sands.

   But I wasn’t even doing that the day of July 24^th.