I remember back in the day when I was in first grade. It was either my second or third year of first grade, I think. Anyway, I was 10 or 11 years old and my teacher approached me in a class discussion.
She asked, "If you had $10.00 and you loaned me $5.00, how much
money would you have?
I thought for a second, I started to tremble, then I freaked out and started crying.
Teacher said, “What’s wrong?”
I said, “Well, if I had $10.00, that would mean I stole it from my mom’s pocketbook again. Then she’d find out and give me a whooping. I’d be grounded from watching The Three Stooges on Saturday mornings for about a month and I’d go to bed without dinner for that same amount of time and cry myself to sleep each night while my stomach was screaming for food until I could feel the bile from my gut reach up and singe my tonsils to near asphyxiation that would lead to tonsillitis and they’d have to be removed and while I’m in the hospital that time wouldn’t count against my grounding time so when I got back home I couldn’t have ice cream while my throat was killing me – all, because you wanted to borrow five freaking dollars from me, teacher.”
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