School was out for the summer! Yay! But here it was, middle of the day and I had nothing to do.
I did a little reading in my room but it was a nice day and I wanted to get out and enjoy it. I went swimming by myself in the backyard pool for a while, but the water was still too cold to really enjoy it.
Mom and dad were working and my sister and brother were at Ruth and Memere's house. Not that I'd want to hang out with them anyway. I wasn't hanging out with my neighborhood friend David C. much anymore and my newer friends John N. and Camille weren't around...they were pretty much just school buddies at this time. My former best friend Michael D. was outta the picture and so was Steven A.; they were now my enemies. So it was looking like it would be a pretty lonely day.
Oh well, there's always myself I can talk to.
"Sssh! Don't tell the reader...we can't tell anyone."
"But it's ok, no one reads this anyway. Besides, just 'cause you talk to yourself doesn't really mean you're crazy. Like they say. A lot of people do it, they just don't admit it."
I talked more to myself lately. I'd pretend I was on my own sit-com starring me and I'd play my own laugh track with the "audience" roaring with laughter at my jokes or antics. Oh what fun. And only I could hear it.
I sometimes argued with myself, but that's ok. Arguments are sometimes healthy for a close relationship like ours...myself and me, that is. Our parents argued all the time. Wasn't theirs the epitome of a healthy marriage? Weren't we a well-adjusted, loving family? Of course we were.
"Really, I don't think so."
"Oh what do you know."
"I know what you know, silly, I'm you."
"Yeah, but you always like to point out the negative, look on the positive side, would ya?!"
"Go screw yourself!"
"Well fuck you too!"
"Ah, shut the fuck up!"
"Why don't YOU!"
Rarely would it come to physical fighting, but there'd occasionally be a few slaps across the face welling up a brief rosy-colored cheek for a while.
But then I'd make up with myself and occasionally I'd kiss my right hand lovingly, forgiving it for smacking me.
Anyway, out by the pool, I noticed a mass of red and black bugs crawling all over the trunk of the old tree behind the garage. I got closer and saw they were harmless little beetle-like things. Normally I'd shriek and run like a little girl at merely the sight of beetles but for some reason I liked these guys. They were harmless and didn't fly away when you picked them up. They had little baby nymphs that looked like miniature itsy-bitsy versions of the adults all running around the place as well. They were all so docile and didn't run away. Perfect little playthings.
Rather than the usual plastic doll dioramas I would set-up in my room and play with for hours, I started to devise all sorts of new and fun ways for these little red and black buddies to be hapless cast members in all sorts of little tragic scenarios I'd play out.
In one, giant needles would mysteriously fall from the sky, piercing their wingcases and underlying thoraxes, pinning them helplessly in place, despite their wildly twitching legs and antennae,'till they dried up hours later.
Another elaborate scene had them dwelling in houses which were, for some odd reason, constructed out of wooden matchsticks. They had to be glued into place with their feelers wiggling out the little open windows and doors. A group of them had also been glued to the plastic seats of a Matchbox car, sharing space with a number of matchstick heads.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck our happy bug families when the car careened down a hill and slammed into a rock. For some reason, this caused the matchstick heads to burst into flames, frying the silently-screaming passengers alive. Soon after, the house also went up in flames. The sizzles and pops could be heard loudly over the sound of sirens playing in my head.
"Okay, that's enough. Put it out now. Someone will see the smoke and tell mom and dad!", I warned myself, worried about getting caught.
"Don't be a pussy. This is fun. Look at them burn! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!", I smarmily answered myself back.
"Die little bastards, die!", we both sang out in unison.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
I did a little reading in my room but it was a nice day and I wanted to get out and enjoy it. I went swimming by myself in the backyard pool for a while, but the water was still too cold to really enjoy it.
Mom and dad were working and my sister and brother were at Ruth and Memere's house. Not that I'd want to hang out with them anyway. I wasn't hanging out with my neighborhood friend David C. much anymore and my newer friends John N. and Camille weren't around...they were pretty much just school buddies at this time. My former best friend Michael D. was outta the picture and so was Steven A.; they were now my enemies. So it was looking like it would be a pretty lonely day.
Oh well, there's always myself I can talk to.
"Sssh! Don't tell the reader...we can't tell anyone."
"But it's ok, no one reads this anyway. Besides, just 'cause you talk to yourself doesn't really mean you're crazy. Like they say. A lot of people do it, they just don't admit it."
I talked more to myself lately. I'd pretend I was on my own sit-com starring me and I'd play my own laugh track with the "audience" roaring with laughter at my jokes or antics. Oh what fun. And only I could hear it.
I sometimes argued with myself, but that's ok. Arguments are sometimes healthy for a close relationship like ours...myself and me, that is. Our parents argued all the time. Wasn't theirs the epitome of a healthy marriage? Weren't we a well-adjusted, loving family? Of course we were.
"Really, I don't think so."
"Oh what do you know."
"I know what you know, silly, I'm you."
"Yeah, but you always like to point out the negative, look on the positive side, would ya?!"
"Go screw yourself!"
"Well fuck you too!"
"Ah, shut the fuck up!"
"Why don't YOU!"
Rarely would it come to physical fighting, but there'd occasionally be a few slaps across the face welling up a brief rosy-colored cheek for a while.
But then I'd make up with myself and occasionally I'd kiss my right hand lovingly, forgiving it for smacking me.
Anyway, out by the pool, I noticed a mass of red and black bugs crawling all over the trunk of the old tree behind the garage. I got closer and saw they were harmless little beetle-like things. Normally I'd shriek and run like a little girl at merely the sight of beetles but for some reason I liked these guys. They were harmless and didn't fly away when you picked them up. They had little baby nymphs that looked like miniature itsy-bitsy versions of the adults all running around the place as well. They were all so docile and didn't run away. Perfect little playthings.
Rather than the usual plastic doll dioramas I would set-up in my room and play with for hours, I started to devise all sorts of new and fun ways for these little red and black buddies to be hapless cast members in all sorts of little tragic scenarios I'd play out.
In one, giant needles would mysteriously fall from the sky, piercing their wingcases and underlying thoraxes, pinning them helplessly in place, despite their wildly twitching legs and antennae,'till they dried up hours later.
Another elaborate scene had them dwelling in houses which were, for some odd reason, constructed out of wooden matchsticks. They had to be glued into place with their feelers wiggling out the little open windows and doors. A group of them had also been glued to the plastic seats of a Matchbox car, sharing space with a number of matchstick heads.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck our happy bug families when the car careened down a hill and slammed into a rock. For some reason, this caused the matchstick heads to burst into flames, frying the silently-screaming passengers alive. Soon after, the house also went up in flames. The sizzles and pops could be heard loudly over the sound of sirens playing in my head.
"Okay, that's enough. Put it out now. Someone will see the smoke and tell mom and dad!", I warned myself, worried about getting caught.
"Don't be a pussy. This is fun. Look at them burn! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!", I smarmily answered myself back.
"Die little bastards, die!", we both sang out in unison.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"