This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 4
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She flipped through her journal and sighed as she realized her entries over the past month sounded so unhappy. Whenever she felt low, she found respite in her diary - a journal of her 20 years of life so far. She fondly mused at her maturity over the years. She wished she could show it as a proof of her maturity to her parents who still treated her a child. But the journal was too precious to be revealed. She suddenly felt vulnerable at the thought of someone bumping into her diary. She pushed aside bad thoughts instantly and flipped back to the pages she knew had happy entries.
"Oh this one...", she giggled to herself when she came across an entry titled "The day I punched the douchebag in his face". She read it out (probably for the 50th time now), softly so no one could hear, although she was the only one sitting by her apartment window.
...I wonder why he is so mean to us. Why would a boy throw stones at girls, hiding behind the big rock at the playground. I know why. He is a douchebag. I told Miss. Carter about him. She never listens to me. She asks me to finish my assignment instead and stop complaining. "Dont whine Katy". That's what she tells me. Always. God, if you grant me a wish, I will ask you to send an army of tarantulas to her bedroom. Miss. Carter hates spiders. I would like to see if she whines then. Haha. I dont know how I did it today. I couldn't take it anymore, watching that douchebad of a boy hurling bigger pebbles now at Sarah and Martha.
Papa always told me I shouldn't fear anything except God. And he is not God. He is a douchebag. I still remember when I came crying to Papa one day and told him how the boy hurt us, over dinner. He looked straight in my eye and said "And what do you expect me to do? Talk to your teacher and get him caned? Is that how you you are going to get your self-respect back? If you got self-respect, you defend it. Your Miss. Carter is right. Stop whining". After that night, I planned every moment of my life on how to fight back for my self respect...
So today when he tried to hit us with stones, we cornered him at his hiding place. He didn't seem to be scared. Until, I showed him his priced collection of baseball cards that he kept in an old tin box. In the other hand I held a cigarette lighter that I stole from Papa's coat pocket. I put on the most spiteful face I could and said "You stop this stoning and I will spare your treasure. Or I will burn them." He didn't know I could never get the lighter on. It never worked. But I kept my threatening face intact. I saw his face go pale but he recovered quickly.
"I will complain to Miss. Carter", he warned.
"Oh yeah? Miss. Carter is on vacation and I will burn your cards anyway. She can do nothing about it.", I scowled back.
By now a big crowd of boys and girls had gathered around me. The girls started to cheer for me. The boys, being stupid boys that they are, stayed neutral. He felt awkward suddenly. He suddenly moved towards me and tried to pry the tin box from me. I resisted.
"Fine. Give it to me and I will spare you girls", he grunted.
I don't know what had happened. I think it was the word spare that drove me crazy. I instantly drew all the strength I could muster and punched him in his face with that tin box. He fell down with a loud thud and I heard him say "Bitchhhhhhhhhhh.....", but not for long. I was down on him and clawing his face with my nails.
I think I kept punching him and ripping his shirt apart until the Coach had pulled me away from him while I flapped my knees in the air...."
She stopped reading and laughed so hard that Becca, her dog who was sound asleep woke up and peered at her with its round eyes. "Go back to sleep Becks!", she said, stealing a few gaps from her laugh.
She thought, how can she be upset over her encounter today with her angry boss. She had mindlessly started an entry an hour ago in her diary....
2011, May 26
Title: What do you want from me?
I can't believe he told today what I think he told. He called me a loser. He said I was incapable of judgement. That I was a liability to the firm. All because I did not suck up to the wealthy client and make a decision that favored the firm over my integrity. How could he speak those harsh words after all the months of hard work and dedication? I am so hurt. I am so depressed. I wish I never lived to see this life.
Even though it wasn't my fault, I had knocked on his door in the noon to apologize. He looked up at me and yelled "What do you want from me?"
That's where she had stopped her entry. She took her pen and continued...
"What do I want? A little self-respect you douchebag!
SCREW YOU MR. ADLER.
Reference: "The day I punched the douchebag in his face", dated May 26, 1991."
She shut her journal, emailed her resignation letter to Mr. Adler and kissed Becca good night.
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My challenge came from Michael Webb this week. I initially wanted to write a dialog between an adolescent kid and a parent. But then I tried to think through my childhood for inspiration ;-) And this incident, ladies and gentleman, happened for real, haha. Of course, names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved, ahem. *Grin*
So Michael and others who stopped by to read this entry - "Hope you liked it!"
My challenge went to Sir this week. My challenge reads as: "If there was one thing you would like to change in your childhood life, what would you change and why?"
I am just curious to see what others would like to change in their childhood, given a chance. So the weird topic :-)
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She flipped through her journal and sighed as she realized her entries over the past month sounded so unhappy. Whenever she felt low, she found respite in her diary - a journal of her 20 years of life so far. She fondly mused at her maturity over the years. She wished she could show it as a proof of her maturity to her parents who still treated her a child. But the journal was too precious to be revealed. She suddenly felt vulnerable at the thought of someone bumping into her diary. She pushed aside bad thoughts instantly and flipped back to the pages she knew had happy entries.
"Oh this one...", she giggled to herself when she came across an entry titled "The day I punched the douchebag in his face". She read it out (probably for the 50th time now), softly so no one could hear, although she was the only one sitting by her apartment window.
1991, May 26
Title: The day I punched the douchebag in his face
...I wonder why he is so mean to us. Why would a boy throw stones at girls, hiding behind the big rock at the playground. I know why. He is a douchebag. I told Miss. Carter about him. She never listens to me. She asks me to finish my assignment instead and stop complaining. "Dont whine Katy". That's what she tells me. Always. God, if you grant me a wish, I will ask you to send an army of tarantulas to her bedroom. Miss. Carter hates spiders. I would like to see if she whines then. Haha. I dont know how I did it today. I couldn't take it anymore, watching that douchebad of a boy hurling bigger pebbles now at Sarah and Martha.
Papa always told me I shouldn't fear anything except God. And he is not God. He is a douchebag. I still remember when I came crying to Papa one day and told him how the boy hurt us, over dinner. He looked straight in my eye and said "And what do you expect me to do? Talk to your teacher and get him caned? Is that how you you are going to get your self-respect back? If you got self-respect, you defend it. Your Miss. Carter is right. Stop whining". After that night, I planned every moment of my life on how to fight back for my self respect...
So today when he tried to hit us with stones, we cornered him at his hiding place. He didn't seem to be scared. Until, I showed him his priced collection of baseball cards that he kept in an old tin box. In the other hand I held a cigarette lighter that I stole from Papa's coat pocket. I put on the most spiteful face I could and said "You stop this stoning and I will spare your treasure. Or I will burn them." He didn't know I could never get the lighter on. It never worked. But I kept my threatening face intact. I saw his face go pale but he recovered quickly.
"I will complain to Miss. Carter", he warned.
"Oh yeah? Miss. Carter is on vacation and I will burn your cards anyway. She can do nothing about it.", I scowled back.
By now a big crowd of boys and girls had gathered around me. The girls started to cheer for me. The boys, being stupid boys that they are, stayed neutral. He felt awkward suddenly. He suddenly moved towards me and tried to pry the tin box from me. I resisted.
"Fine. Give it to me and I will spare you girls", he grunted.
I don't know what had happened. I think it was the word spare that drove me crazy. I instantly drew all the strength I could muster and punched him in his face with that tin box. He fell down with a loud thud and I heard him say "Bitchhhhhhhhhhh.....", but not for long. I was down on him and clawing his face with my nails.
I think I kept punching him and ripping his shirt apart until the Coach had pulled me away from him while I flapped my knees in the air...."
She stopped reading and laughed so hard that Becca, her dog who was sound asleep woke up and peered at her with its round eyes. "Go back to sleep Becks!", she said, stealing a few gaps from her laugh.
She thought, how can she be upset over her encounter today with her angry boss. She had mindlessly started an entry an hour ago in her diary....
2011, May 26
Title: What do you want from me?
I can't believe he told today what I think he told. He called me a loser. He said I was incapable of judgement. That I was a liability to the firm. All because I did not suck up to the wealthy client and make a decision that favored the firm over my integrity. How could he speak those harsh words after all the months of hard work and dedication? I am so hurt. I am so depressed. I wish I never lived to see this life.
Even though it wasn't my fault, I had knocked on his door in the noon to apologize. He looked up at me and yelled "What do you want from me?"
That's where she had stopped her entry. She took her pen and continued...
"What do I want? A little self-respect you douchebag!
SCREW YOU MR. ADLER.
Reference: "The day I punched the douchebag in his face", dated May 26, 1991."
She shut her journal, emailed her resignation letter to Mr. Adler and kissed Becca good night.
----------------------
My challenge came from Michael Webb this week. I initially wanted to write a dialog between an adolescent kid and a parent. But then I tried to think through my childhood for inspiration ;-) And this incident, ladies and gentleman, happened for real, haha. Of course, names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved, ahem. *Grin*
So Michael and others who stopped by to read this entry - "Hope you liked it!"
My challenge went to Sir this week. My challenge reads as: "If there was one thing you would like to change in your childhood life, what would you change and why?"
I am just curious to see what others would like to change in their childhood, given a chance. So the weird topic :-)
5 comments:
very well written! this topic should have been a cake walk for you ;) also, you consider adding a like button to your posts :)
You were a tough little girl! At the end of the day we're the ones who have to look at ourselves in the mirror. Really liked this!
Thanks Arun!
Alison - thank you:) I really wish I had a journal like that. Because right now I can only think back of those memories fondly and sometimes take strength from them when I feel low.
true class this one.
thanks CS :P
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