I'm not quite sure, but crippled children seem to hate me for some reason. I don't make fun of them, in their face or behind their back. I'm nice, but not on the pity/overbearing side. They just don't like me.
My experiences with them runs with my grade school years like an Oreo cookie. Hard and crusty on the outside, with nice emptiness of creamy delight on the inside. My only two times being with crippled children during school time has been first grade and tenth grade, the grade I'm currently in. Out of the school environment, there is one girl I know in a wheel chair and she was nice, but drunk. I'm not sure of its validness. Also, I myself am a quasi-cripple with being blind in my left eye due to a brain tumor, so I've spent times in hospitals. Maybe this is the very reason that the truly crippled dislike me for: My affliction is easily covered up (not noticeable), I can still do lots of things and I can try to use it for sympathy for picking up chicks. I get sympathy, but no women. I guess the latter reason is a bad thing to do, but I know you'd do it if you had something cool like this. Uh-huh.
Well anyway, in first grade their was a kid named Joel, I think. Joel was eight, being slightly old for the class. He also didn't have any legs. Well, that's not completely true. He had 4 legs actually, all plastic, 2 for general use and 2 for gym class. It took most of the kids in class at least a month to figure out he didn't have any legs. Well, I didn't ignore him like some kids, and I wasn't mean. I was casual, even then, just darting in once and a while to say a quick hi, throw a smile and joke, then vanish to the jungle gym. Its not like he didn't have friends; he was one of the most popular kids in my grade. Anyway, one day we had to get in a line for some reason that escapes me, but I was leaning on the blackboard, and he was two feet in front of me. The line was still being explored. The teacher was trying to get us into alphabetical order, and some kids still haven't mastered the ABCs due to mad amount of Phonix(!). Well, some kid came up and talked to Joel about something, and I wasn't really listening, until my ears picked up on my name. Joel has said something along the lines of "lets do this but not let Rybread do it cause he's an icky-goo head." Hmm, yeah that's a ruff paraphrase. Well the kid he was talking to saw me turn around and he said that was wrong. Joel turned around and saw me, and started to apologize, but it was too late. I was now marked to be the butt of all cripples.
Who knows of Joel's reasoning. It was a catholic school and I was the only one in my grade who wasn't catholic, so maybe he was a crippled nazi. Some of you may be saying that he may of not liked me, but, hey, in my first grade we were all best friends with everyone. They all went to your birthday party. 'Cept girls, unless you were me, but that's another story. The only people in first grade not universally liked were Jennifer Cockrin, called Cockroach because children are cruel and she smelt funny and wore a uniform (yes uniforms!) 2 sizes to small. The other was the teacher cause she was evil. 'Nuff said.
Well, Joel moved, maybe died, that summer and I never saw him again. My next years at the school were relatively painless, Oreo cream years. I finally left the center of Zeros (Nuns, get it?) and entered the wonderful world of the public school system with no fashion sense, a blessing in disguise. Freshman year was uneventful in the cripple department until this year in everyone's favorite class: Physical Education.
His name is Brian Harold and his legs are bent to all fucking hell. I'm not being cruel, just honest. I estimate that if we got a protractor and found the angle, we could honestly rule out the idea of an acute angle. Anyway, in are third week of school we started playing Speed Ball; soccer with some scary act of violence called air juggling. I have gym first period, and on Monday's at that, when the grass is all pissy wet. Since I don't care that much for forced team sports, gym class, and the school system in general I'm not always what one would call a "team player". I usually talk to people like me, or on defense, about their weekend, etc. Well, Brian, as one would except falls down a lot, probally cause he tries to hard (bless his little heart). The thing that gets me is his tendency to run into me for no good reason, not even to show off. I've been on his team, or against it, but it does not change his behavior. He runs with all his might when I'm not looking, and he pushes me. I never fall down. I'm starting to know when he's coming and debating whether to start side stepping. What really gets me pissed is now he wipes muddy hands on my gym cloths. I mean, come on, there gym clothes! I'm not going to wash these things to Christmas Vacation!
Well, I guess prices have to be paid for 9 years of academic bliss with regards to cripples. Shit, I've been in school for 10 years that fucking sucks.
