Drama

Once every one hundred years, a selected boy will do the unthinkable. He will shape minds with actions of disgust. He will
rewind society, backmasking traditions and unravel tightly wound rules. He will become....

Unthinkable

"Hey Pete."
"Oh, hey, what's up Donald?"
"Nothin' much, you douche bag. Hey, I heard that fag Paul fingered Rachel in her ass last night
at the big football game."
"As far as I am concerned, I believe this to be true, Donald."

Pete and Donald were just 2 third graders trying to get by in the elementary way of life. As Donald wanted to be a police
or fireman, Pete wanted to be a career criminal or an astronaut. Both were just edging on the teetering balance of "good"
and "evil."

"Pete! Petey honey, dinner's ready." Pete's mother was quite the culinary wizard.
"Pete! Get the fuck down here, you piece of shit. I'm not wasting money on this shit food for some
loser bitch-of-a-son that's never gonna do nothin' with his life. So get the fuck down here and eat this shit
you unwanted cumshot!"
"Holy Christ Mom! I'm right here."

Lil' ol' Petey was quite the tempermental child. Around his mother though, he knew where to draw the line.

"Piece of shit!?! Fuck you bitch!"

Well, the line this time was death. But hey, it's a line.
He withdrew a small pocketknife from his...pocket..and stuck it in and out of his mother.
In-and-out it went. countless times. No movie-like sounds. Just a piece of sharp metal entering and leaving soft
skin. "Drama", as some would say, was the scenario. But no one was around to witness. Only lil' Petey and his lil' o'
jack knife. Why was this all happening? How could he do such a thing? He pondered anxiously, sweating, breathing
uncontrollably like we all do, involuntarily. Petey panicked. He ran up to his room, slammed the door, and threw himself
onto his bed. His mind began to spin to earlier that day...



"Megan, pass the ball here."

The sun was beating hard on all the children. Just beating the shit out of them. A few kids during recess organized
a game of "catch."

"Megan, pass the ball here," Pete stated.
"Fuck you, you ugly bastard," Megan stated.
"Your pussy smells like a dead retard," Pete stated.
"Yeah, well..."

Pete couldn't go on. This conversation was too immature for someone destined to reach the stars, to rob banks and
whatnot. He put his arms down and walked away from the, "catch," circle.

"Hey Pete!"
"Yeah?," replied a lethargic Peter.
"Yeah, hey, save the drama for your mama, you fucking loser."

That's what Pete did, and as the schoolyard broke out into insane spurts of laughter, he saved the drama for his mama.

The End