P.S.

Growing up, my life could be described as…different. I look at most people’s childhoods and think, “Wow, that’s what normality is”. They have parents that care all the time, supportive friends, a nice foundation for life. I had this, blob (as I would call it) that kind of sat there next to me, just toying with me as life threw crap at me saying, “Hey Eric!! Dodge this one!”

 

I remember specifically one year in second grade after I had been kidnapped for a week by three high school students from my elementary school playground, I returned to my school like nothing at all happened. Other children stared like I was the one eyed goat in the barn that ran in circles chasing my tail all day because I couldn’t ever find out why it followed me everywhere.

 

Anyway, I was sitting at my desk the day I came back to school as the final bell rang to say, “School is out BITCHES!!” and as I bent down to stuff my books into my backpack to take home, I noticed a note by my desk. Being the nosy little snot that I am, of course I am going to pick it up and read it. Then again, what second grader is going to get up and say, “Did someone drop his or her note? I don’t want to intrude on your personal life so I figured I would ask.” Not a single one, that’s who.

 

So as I unfolded the note, I noticed that it was for me anyway. The first line gave it away as it read, “Dear Eric,” and that was a dead give away. I knew right then and there it was mine and thoughts began racing through my mind.

 

“Oh my gosh, maybe someone actually wants to be my friend!” and “Wow, other kids actually know my name!” were just a few of the thoughts. So I continued reading. Basically the note was terrible to say the least. I wont go into great detail, but to say the least it said that they wanted to kill me then murder my whole family.

 

Right now, you’re thinking, “Eric, how the hell is this funny?”

 

Well at the bottom of the note, it had a “P.S.” and being a second grader, this peaked my curious mind. I jumped into detective mode and it immediately became clear. Since we had only went over basic English principles in class, I had no clue what the hell “P.S.” stood for. I did however know that we had a kid in my class with those initials.

 

IT HAD TO BE THAT KID!! So I took matters into my own hand. I went to his bus, I confronted him, and I told him that I was going to kill him right there on that bus then murder his whole family. He cried and never returned to that school.

 

Needless to say, that kid didn’t write that note. I never found out who did, and quite frankly, I still don’t have friends.