WTF Sodomy?
Therapist Dan: “Is there anything else from your childhood you’d like to reference in our session today?”
Me: “Hmmm. I don’t know. I think we discussed just about everything.”
Therapist Dan: “Maybe something from elementary school or about your marriage?”
I was bullied plenty in elementary school especially in my special Ed. sixth grade math class. The bullies were Kevin and Patrick. Kevin reminded me of a Down syndrome bulldog with a lumpy clean-shaven head and Patrick reminded me of Little Miss America. I detested them with a rage because they always tormented me in class. When the schoolteacher wasn’t watching they’d toss pencils, erasers and spit wads at my cranium. They exhibited the goofiest faces when I turned around and told them to fuck their moms.” When I shouted out toward the teacher that they were harassing me the bullies displayed a good face and said, “Oh, but Ms. …show more content…
Vargas we didn’t do anything. We don’t know why he’d accuse us of something that bad. We actually like Reece’s Pieces. He’s actually pretty cool. Yeah!”
They made me appear cat shit crazy! It didn’t benefit me since they licked the teacher’s butthole until it was sore. I couldn’t do anything about the torment I received in my dumb ass math class except wear my helmet (It helped protect my dome from all the stones they hurled at me).
Therapist Dan: “Please stop referring to your math class as retarded. You’re not daft. You just had copious difficulties. Don’t be so tough on yourself. You’re not so dreadful.”
Me: “Thanks. I suppose you’re right.”
Where was I? Oh, so I did the one thing that made me feel better, drawing. One afternoon I let my frustration out on the bullies and drew their likeness on an orange/yellow mini envelope. I positioned Kevin in back of Patrick and made it look like he was scratching his back. It was meant to humiliate them by suggesting they were perhaps gay or in love, but nothing more. I drew them from the midriff up to their heads. I actually presented it to them and they said, “Wow, that’s really good.” I said it was a depiction of them and they just laughed. They didn’t hassle me after they saw what an artist I was. I presume sketching was my get out of bullying free card. I kept my secret drawing inside the slot of my desk. That was a regretful mistake. Did I state I’m genuinely terrible at withholding things I don’t want recovered? Therapist Dan: “I somewhat got that from your picture in a box tale.” Anyways, a few days later, my teacher Ms. Vargas disturbed me in my homeroom class and pulled me aside. She told me I had to come with her to the principal’s office for an instant. I shadowed discerning nothing of it because I minded my p’s and q’s. Ms. Vargas stood next to Ms. Bell, the principal, behind this big bulky ugly brown desk. My Caucasian principal with her Hilary Clinton 90s hairstyle, navy blue sports coat and black slacks directed me to take a seat. She asked, “Reece, do you know why you’re in my office today?” Confused, I said, “Uh, no. I don’t know. Nobody has told me yet.” With a straight face she said, “Well, I have a drawing of yours that Ms. Vargas found in your desk.” Then she displayed the drawing and held it up for me. In a scolding tone she asked, “What is the meaning of this?” I said, “It’s a drawing of two boys in my class. One of them is just scratching the other boy’s back.” In a scolding tone she said, “Yes, but the way you drew these boys is very inappropriate and will not be tolerated in school. I’m giving you this citation for your actions and I want to meet with your parents about this incident tomorrow. Do you understand?” Extremely confused I said, “I don’t understand what I did that’s wrong with my drawing.” She simply replied with contempt, “That’s for me to discuss with your parents. You may go back to your homeroom now.” So I nervously strolled home from school because it was literally up the street from my horrid crack house. Therapist Dan: “You criticize your household quite a
Therapist Dan: “Is there anything else from your childhood you’d like to reference in our session today?”
Me: “Hmmm. I don’t know. I think we discussed just about everything.”
Therapist Dan: “Maybe something from elementary school or about your marriage?”
I was bullied plenty in elementary school especially in my special Ed. sixth grade math class. The bullies were Kevin and Patrick. Kevin reminded me of a Down syndrome bulldog with a lumpy clean-shaven head and Patrick reminded me of Little Miss America. I detested them with a rage because they always tormented me in class. When the schoolteacher wasn’t watching they’d toss pencils, erasers and spit wads at my cranium. They exhibited the goofiest faces when I turned around and told them to fuck their moms.” When I shouted out toward the teacher that they were harassing me the bullies displayed a good face and said, “Oh, but Ms. …show more content…
Vargas we didn’t do anything. We don’t know why he’d accuse us of something that bad. We actually like Reece’s Pieces. He’s actually pretty cool. Yeah!”
They made me appear cat shit crazy! It didn’t benefit me since they licked the teacher’s butthole until it was sore. I couldn’t do anything about the torment I received in my dumb ass math class except wear my helmet (It helped protect my dome from all the stones they hurled at me).
Therapist Dan: “Please stop referring to your math class as retarded. You’re not daft. You just had copious difficulties. Don’t be so tough on yourself. You’re not so dreadful.”
Me: “Thanks. I suppose you’re right.”
Where was I? Oh, so I did the one thing that made me feel better, drawing. One afternoon I let my frustration out on the bullies and drew their likeness on an orange/yellow mini envelope. I positioned Kevin in back of Patrick and made it look like he was scratching his back. It was meant to humiliate them by suggesting they were perhaps gay or in love, but nothing more. I drew them from the midriff up to their heads. I actually presented it to them and they said, “Wow, that’s really good.” I said it was a depiction of them and they just laughed. They didn’t hassle me after they saw what an artist I was. I presume sketching was my get out of bullying free card. I kept my secret drawing inside the slot of my desk. That was a regretful mistake. Did I state I’m genuinely terrible at withholding things I don’t want recovered? Therapist Dan: “I somewhat got that from your picture in a box tale.” Anyways, a few days later, my teacher Ms. Vargas disturbed me in my homeroom class and pulled me aside. She told me I had to come with her to the principal’s office for an instant. I shadowed discerning nothing of it because I minded my p’s and q’s. Ms. Vargas stood next to Ms. Bell, the principal, behind this big bulky ugly brown desk. My Caucasian principal with her Hilary Clinton 90s hairstyle, navy blue sports coat and black slacks directed me to take a seat. She asked, “Reece, do you know why you’re in my office today?” Confused, I said, “Uh, no. I don’t know. Nobody has told me yet.” With a straight face she said, “Well, I have a drawing of yours that Ms. Vargas found in your desk.” Then she displayed the drawing and held it up for me. In a scolding tone she asked, “What is the meaning of this?” I said, “It’s a drawing of two boys in my class. One of them is just scratching the other boy’s back.” In a scolding tone she said, “Yes, but the way you drew these boys is very inappropriate and will not be tolerated in school. I’m giving you this citation for your actions and I want to meet with your parents about this incident tomorrow. Do you understand?” Extremely confused I said, “I don’t understand what I did that’s wrong with my drawing.” She simply replied with contempt, “That’s for me to discuss with your parents. You may go back to your homeroom now.” So I nervously strolled home from school because it was literally up the street from my horrid crack house. Therapist Dan: “You criticize your household quite a