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| Name: Ryan Roe Email: prawnrr-rmv@this.com-yahoo.com Position: Movie / Television / Comic Book / Trivia Geek View Ryan's Personal Profile |
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| When I was in second grade, I hung out some with two brothers who went to my church and my school. As I recall, Ricky was a year younger than I and Thomas was a year older. It was Thomas who played a major part in my realization that Mad Magazine was great literature. I don't think I ever thanked him for that... I'm pretty sure my mom never thanked him for that either. Ricky owned an Inspector Gadget toy, which was very cool. He was about a foot high, and had all the accessories-- 'copter, phone, screwdriver, Gadget legs. Ricky kept calling him "Mister Gadget," and my attempts to correct him only caused confusion: "'Inspector' Gadget? Oh, I get it. Because you can inspect people over to your house to play with him!" One Saturday or Sunday, Ricky came over to my house. (Perhaps I had inspected him.) We played Duck Hunt. We quoted Spaceballs, including some jokes we didn't actually understand. Then we went to play outside.. It was some kind of Ricky vs. Ryan game... with water guns, maybe? My memory becomes fuzzy, for reasons you'll soon understand. One moment of our game found Ricky and I running along perpendicular walls of the house. He was running, and I was running. We picked up speed. I ran faster in those days... not that I ever run now. Neither of us could see around the corner, so what happened next was inevitable. BAM! We collided, our heads smacking into each other. There was crying from both parties. A verbal summons was issued to Mommy. Ice packs were distributed. When Ricky's mother arrived later to pick him up, the incident was explained. It was nobody's fault... it just happened. The next morning I went to school sporting the latest in springtime bruises. People asked me about it, and I told them the story like it was a war wound. After lunch was recess, which found me playing with my second grade friends. I spotted Ricky across the playground, playing with his first grade friends. As he headed my direction, I saw the bruise over his left eye. It was larger than mine, and more bruise-colored. "Hi, Ricky," I said. He didn't exactly return my greeting. He hurled a slew of words at me-- words my parents had taught me were Words We Don't Use. I know his parents had taught him the same. I won't reproduce exactly what he said, but I'll use words with the same number of letters and the same first letters. "You sum of a banjo!" he said. "You gave me this falafel bruise, you stupid suit! Go to hats, you abalone!" I could have responded in a number of ways. I could have thrown his profanities back at him... but what if my parents suddenly jumped out from behind the monkey bars and revoked my DuckTales-watching priveleges? I could have talked it out with Ricky... but he was clearly in no mood. Or I could have given him a bruise over his right eye. I did none of these things. I just sort of stood there... I guess eventually I returned to my fellow second-graders. A few days later, at church, I asked Ricky, "Why did you confront me with that barrage of obscenities, my friend?" Well, maybe not in those words. I was seven. He said, "My friend Eddie told me I had to cuss you out or I'd be a wussy." That was it. Even at that Kool-Aid-loving age, he was worried about maintaining some kind of manliness. It's sort of sad to think that as early as first grade, some kids are already worrying about being cool in the eyes of Eddie. I guess some are more susceptible to peer pressure than others. It's been years since I even heard any news about Ricky and his family... maybe someday, somewhere, I'll run into him again. Comments on this post are closed. |
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| If you do, I hope you beat the btap out of him. |
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| Occupant, I'm glad you posted. I've got a TON of your mail here. |
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| Keep 'em coming, dear nephew----AND put them all together and write a book. I KNOW you are someday going to experience"SUCCESS" from your writings...! They are GREAT, and you have the inclination and motivativation to preserve them as anecdotes and short stories.... I now challenge you to put them in a form long enough for a book! I KNOW you will be a success.....You are a great continuation of the "Roe " Legacy....Keep 'em coming, Ryan-------There is going to be a day that we can all "Rejoice" with your writings....."Aunt Glenda", more recently, "GG" |
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| What I find most unlikely about your story is where you mentioned correcting your friend. You NEVER corrected anyone in the elementary years. You just borrowed and applied zingers used by Buster Bunny. By the way; I still feel smarter when I wear glasses and my ego is still the size of Trump Towers. |
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| Ah, the Boomers would have so whupped the Bad Boys if we hadn't signed that peace treaty. |
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