The flashbulb blinds me, and I’m finally free to go. Had I not been there yesterday when a big ol’ oak tree was about to fall on them and their new, shiny T-Bird convertible, we would not be sittin’ here all sweet and harmonious. They flash toothy smiles at me, their savior. He asks a few more questions then he makes me pose for a photo with the family. “I could just tell it was gonna fall, so I had to get them outta the way.” This is silliness. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was in high school too. “Can you remember what you were thinking when you first noticed that something was wrong?” a young reporter asks me. I hate it, but what am I sposeta do? Refuse a newspaper interview, with my mother so proud she’s finna combust? They don’t understand what I did yesterday, so they’re makin’ a big fuss. I got no interest in drawin’ attention to myself for any reason other than my good looks and memorable personality. So? That’s my private business and nobody else’s. HERE’S THE THING ABOUT ME: I ain’t normal.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |