Hefty-bagger Basketball

Since the gym class uniforms are already awful, I thought I would rather sit behind a desk with a cheese grater to my forehead, than put on the horrific, sweaty pinny used by millions of other students that our teacher insisted that we wear. To make things worse, I kinda sorta maybe may have spaced out when the gym teacher released us to battle for a decent-colored pinny, so when my team got there, all that was left was a black and white striped Hefty bag with holes just big enough to fit your hands through without it having the effect of a tourniquette. Then basketball (the selected game of the week) began. And I kinda sorta maybe may have spaced out again when picking opponents and ended up with the total "I'm gonna eat you" athlete crazy people. Ok, so we've established I'm a spacey person.... in gym.

So the game begins, and of course I'm the one to start with the ball. Now, I have never actually played a whole game of basketball, so I knew this would be an experience. As I tried to pass to the only partially open person left on the Hefty bag team, a person flew out of nowhere and used his chest as a blockade. To my luck, he had an unusually bouncy chest, and the ball returned to my posession.

And then it hit me. There was a perfectly good basket sitting right behind me. And since I had miraculously absorbed the rule about no center line push or pull or middle line thingy.... (basically they couldn't cross the middle line until I did) I knew it allowed me to take all the time I needed. I took the shot and the ball went in with a swoosh.

Maybe basketball was my calling.

It didn't make any sense to me that that actually worked, but I turned around expecting my fellow Hefty baggers to start thunderously applauding my clever decision. But no, instead the other team was cheering. Maybe they liked me! Maybe I just made a really good shot! But why wasn't my team cheering?

I finally was told that I shot at the wrong basket. And that's when the person with the bouncy chest bragged about how he got the point, and for the rest of the game he acted as if he was competing against an even remotely good team. I had pointed out several times that he didn't have to try as hard as he was now because his biggest threat was the Hefty bagger that spent more time looking at her nails than the court and screamed and ran away when the ball came within 6 feet of her.

By the end of the class I had aquired the nicknames "rebel," "moron," "backwards basket," and some other uncreative, slightly funny names. So I speak to the future Hefty baggers of the world when I say this- When something seems like an easy shot, it's NOT!

Pause

People never stop and look
To see what they have passed.
Nor do they look ahead;
They leave questions unasked.
To most a rose is decoration,
Not to be handled, felt, or sniffed,
And very rarely do people pause
to go and take a whiff.
Most people do not realize
that the future is the past ahead,
that they can move the rocks of life
and not trip on them instead.
You may choose to dawdle in the past
or focus on the future.
But the present is the best time
that many leave unnurtured.

My Own Applause Button

I was tired of booking gigs
at vacant, dreary, barn like things
so I made my own applause button

It didn't take me long to tell,
my pitchy rhyming wasn't swell
so I made my own applause button

When I found out my only fan
 was my run down, ear-less minivan
I made my own applause button

2011

Harvey

             The other day, my family and I attended a production put on by the Monomoy Theatre. This play was Harvey, a story about a 6'1 1/2 pooka. What is a pooka you ask? A pooka is a spirit embodying a large animal of some sort. In this case Harvey was a rabbit pooka. Throughout the entire play, the only ones who saw Harvey were his best friend Elwood P. Dowd and some unexpecting cast members who finally saw that Elwood was not crazy. This was hard to believe. Elwood was a grown man that had a giant rabbit as his best friend (who until the end of the production was thought to be imaginary), he spent a majority of his adult life in the bar, and everywhere he went, anyone, even a baby in a stroller recieved his calling card and an introduction to Harvey.
             The hilarious play and the wonderful cast made my cousin and I believe in Harvey so deeply that in the car ride home we had decided that Harvey had come home with us, and we even fastened a seatbelt for the creature. We then escorted  Harvey inside where we took a picture of the three of us and used that as a base for illustrating a portrait of  us and our new friend. We had no idea dinner with a pooka would be so interresting. It turned out Harvey absolutly loves lobster. The butter dripped from the suculent meat nearly every time Harvey attempted to eat it. By the end of the meal, Harvey's entire front had been stained yellow. I showed Harvey the bathroom and gave him some soap . Harvey stepped out of the bathroom with a coat as white as ever.
            We were now ready for the evening family board game. That night the selected game was Clue. Harvey did not quite understand the first time around and ended up showing his cards to everyone. He agreed to take another  shot at the game, now with the understanding that the point of the game is to keep your cards secret. This time Harvey crushed all of us. Not long after that Harvey checked his pocket watch and decided it was time to go home. I managed to ask where he lived, but the only reply I recieved was a tip of the hat and a wink.
            Harvey, if you too are reading this post, do not hesitate to drop by, you do know where I live.

2012

Early Morning Storm

             My head throbs as I lay flat on my back, cringing at the white streaks of light that whip my face. A low rumbling shakes the house and I swear it would lift right out of its foundation and start spinning like in The Wizard of Oz. The house stayed in place but my heart and stomach had been jolted and moved as though they had been forced into a blender and then put back into me as the mushy pulp that the concoction had bended into. Rushing downstairs, I grab a phone. My dad was dropping my brother off at camp, so I was home alone momentarily. The time had not occured to me until my tired hands fidgeted with the phone. It was 8:30A.M.. In the morning! This was hours before I even normally  even think about waking up.
              BOOM! CRASH!! The thunder and lightning were nearly on top of each other. A new noise followed. A ripping sound. A splitting sound. A fiery sound. I rushed to the front yard where a tree not 20ft. away from me had caught a fiery crown. It wasn't long before the flames had reached the front of the plant, scorching it's face and tearing its leaves from its grasp. Who to call? Panic. That word is often misused. Today I felt true panic. I did not flail or cry or scream. I froze. My mind as blanck as an empty wall. My musles  tightened and twitched.  I finally snapped out of it when another gut wrenching boom echoed through the town. The tree teetered. If it fell one way, the house would share the flames, and if it fell any other way, the rest of the forest would.  Although my senses were back, they still lagged a great deal.  My dad's number was already in the phone. I pressed my phone up to my ear and hit dial. My dad's cheerful voice came through the phone
 "What are you doing up so early?" He asked.
"Thunderstorm," I replyed somewhat layed back. " I mean there's a fire in the front yard!" I said, this time a lot more urgent sounding.
"Did you call the fire department?"
I didn't think about this. The fire department, Alex. You know, the people who handle fires! How could I be so STUPID! Without warning I hung up on my dad and called the fire department. Apparently they had had a lot of these sort of calls this morning.
              The firemen arrived and extinguished the flames before it engulfed any thing else. In the end I was left with a crispy tree, a confused father, the true meaning of panic, and a bed waiting for me to climb back into.

2012

KCA Comedy

        " No, no Alex that's a wall!" Chloe yelled as I zoomed down the virtual slopes of wii ski. "I knew that" I joked as I quit the game, "what should we do now?" It was the annual KCA anniversary and the K (KC), the C (Chloe), and me the A couldn't wait to write what we came here for, our super silly, slightly stupid, homemade commercial. Racing up the stairs and into chloe's room, ideas filled our heads. A portal to mars that's really just a toilet paper tube, an automatic portrait painter that's really just a camera, or even a magic box that takes your bread and gives you a piece of toast in return that's just a toaster. The awkward silence loomed, hot and sticky, in the air until KC's "aha" moment voice cut through it like a sharp knife. "The body packge" she exclaimed as Chloe and i looked at her like she had just declared she was a marshmallow and was going off to live in Stop and Shop. "We can dress up those body pillows with big sweatshirts and wigs and stuff" we all nodded in agreeement and set to work on the commercial.
         About halfway through the commercial writing I closed my eyes in thought. At school, I don't have many stand out friends or could do many sports. I was always the slightly mysterious follower to what anyone else was doing and never had many of my own ideas introduced into groups. But here was my oasis of randomness and expression with my loyal friends surrounding me. This was truly my home away from home. My eyes opened and my brain got back into action again spitballing ideas. "Are you alright?" chirped Chloe. "wonderful" I reply smiling and putting my oversized sweatshirt on a body pillow.
          Finally we were done with rehersals and everyone was fitted with their costumes. It was time for the real thing. KC held the camera towards the scene of the commercial and began to record.

2011

Summer Slumber

“Good night,” The dreaded words of summer. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”  How can moms say that so INNOCENTLY?  It’s not like I control the evil insects.  Sleeping in the summertime is like telling me not to sleep at all.  As soon as my parents leave me in my too hot or too cold bed, the battle begins.

     My mortal enemy is really the unscreened windows.  Why they are unscreened, is still a mystery even to me.  I know what you’re thinking: How could windows be the enemy?  They don’t do anything but keep cool air from circulating through the room, therefore creating a hot sticky mess.  Well you see, that’s the problem!  If you leave the windows open, the lack of screen causes swarms of bugs to attack from every angle, while crickets screech their endless tune leaving your ears to throb. 

     Then you would probably think: Wow, if I just close the window, wouldn’t it all be over? NO!! If you close the window, the hot, sticky, sweaty, disgusting air looms in the room like a heated blanket. This is the point where I turn to my fan for advice… and some cool air.  The only problem is that the fan is a rather talkative fellow and once again an annoying buzz rings through my brain. 

     Sounds, heat, windows, it’s all so confusing! Oh, why must sleeping in the summer be so ANNOYING!?! Finally, after consulting myself like the President deciding on vetoing a law, I shut the windows, turned off my fan and trudged into my parents’ room with a sleepy groan. I approach the comfy room just to turn right back around again.  I guess I forgot that my dad snores!  Perhaps my room is better after all!

2011