Childhood Trama
They've made my childhood horror story into a cartoon! A happy cartoon.
When I was in first grade I sat next to this girl - I can't remember her name. We'll call her "Ashley" because Ashleys in my day still spelled their name with a 'y'. Now there's all this "Ashlee" and "Ashlie" and "Ashly" bull pucky. We sat next to each other in those great little desks that you used to have with the legs that had adjustable heights, so each grade your desk was a little bit taller. We had those huge plastic bins that fit inside the desk, so you didn't have to dig anything out of the back. You just had to pull out the tray light a giant draw with no track.
I wonder if desks in public schools have changed at all - they should have tracks now. Do kids even have desks anymore?
Anyways, in first grade, we did a lot of coloring. Of course, we weren't allowed to have the 64 crayon jumbo pack with 11ty thousand different colors with 12 shades of green. No. In first grade, we were only allowed to have the jumbo crayons that came in like ROYGBIV colors. That was it. No more, no less. Jumbo size was required because, apparently, small fingers require larger instruments than large fingers. Go figure.
Ashley was always jelous of my crayons because I never beat them up. I didn't tear off their little paper labels, I didn't chew on them and break them. I didn't eat my paste either. It never smelled good enough to eat.
One day around Easter we were coloring Easter bunnies or something else sudo religious that would not be allowed in most public schools today. We celebrated all the Christian Holidays, had a Christmas tree, and dressed up for Halloween. No one was politically correct enough to give a shit about any religion other than Christianity. We like it that way, damn it.
Ashley lost her gigantic purple crayon. How you could lose one of those suckers, I'm not sure, because they are enormous. None the less, she tries to take mine. Of course, I was having none of that. It was my GD crayon. The teacher got involved, and decided the best way to solve the crisis was to give both children a crayon to draw with. A logical, but not really fair solution. So she breaks the crayon in half. I seethed with anger. Having no skills in guilt triping, negotiation, logic, arguing, etc. I had no recourse but allow it to happen. (I was a much nicer person as a child.) I glare at Ashley while still coloring my Easter Bunny, angry that her lies had ruined my precious crayons that I had kept nice all year. While her crayons were torn to bits, broken, and in gigantic bits. Now my crayon was in gigantic bits with it's beautiful purple wrapper marred when the teach snapped it in two.
I continued to color, outside the lines this time, in silent protest to my teacher's actions. A few moments go by the teacher goes to yell at some other child for something equally as ridiculous. Ashley turns to me and pulls out a large stump of purple crayon. "Oh, I find mine. Here, you can have your other half back now."
I seethed with anger, thinking of the injustice of it all.
After years of therapy, and getting a 32 pack of crayons the next year at school, I was pretty over the whole thing.
But now, now hateful hateful hollywood producers have profited off of my childhood horrors - they've made a television serious off of this horrific incident in my life.
They've changed a few critical details of the story - just so I wouldn't sue their happy little pants off. First of all, they've changed me into a boy. Now, I'm "HAROLD"!!! Do I look like a Harrold to you? I didn't think so. Also, who has named their baby harold in the last half century. I thought that name went out of vouge in about the time someone landed on the moon. They've also made it not at all about a purple crayon being broken, but about his adventures with the crayon? (I'm not really sure, I can't be troubled/can't stand to relive the childhood horror.) This "Harold and the Purple Crayon" is a blatent rip off of the horrific childhood events that torture me today (or maybe I just have nothing else interesting to write about?) Anyone know a good patent lawyer? Clearly, these people are profiting off of horrific, tramatizing events. The least they could do is sent me a tee-shirt!
When I was in first grade I sat next to this girl - I can't remember her name. We'll call her "Ashley" because Ashleys in my day still spelled their name with a 'y'. Now there's all this "Ashlee" and "Ashlie" and "Ashly" bull pucky. We sat next to each other in those great little desks that you used to have with the legs that had adjustable heights, so each grade your desk was a little bit taller. We had those huge plastic bins that fit inside the desk, so you didn't have to dig anything out of the back. You just had to pull out the tray light a giant draw with no track.
I wonder if desks in public schools have changed at all - they should have tracks now. Do kids even have desks anymore?
Anyways, in first grade, we did a lot of coloring. Of course, we weren't allowed to have the 64 crayon jumbo pack with 11ty thousand different colors with 12 shades of green. No. In first grade, we were only allowed to have the jumbo crayons that came in like ROYGBIV colors. That was it. No more, no less. Jumbo size was required because, apparently, small fingers require larger instruments than large fingers. Go figure.
Ashley was always jelous of my crayons because I never beat them up. I didn't tear off their little paper labels, I didn't chew on them and break them. I didn't eat my paste either. It never smelled good enough to eat.
One day around Easter we were coloring Easter bunnies or something else sudo religious that would not be allowed in most public schools today. We celebrated all the Christian Holidays, had a Christmas tree, and dressed up for Halloween. No one was politically correct enough to give a shit about any religion other than Christianity. We like it that way, damn it.
Ashley lost her gigantic purple crayon. How you could lose one of those suckers, I'm not sure, because they are enormous. None the less, she tries to take mine. Of course, I was having none of that. It was my GD crayon. The teacher got involved, and decided the best way to solve the crisis was to give both children a crayon to draw with. A logical, but not really fair solution. So she breaks the crayon in half. I seethed with anger. Having no skills in guilt triping, negotiation, logic, arguing, etc. I had no recourse but allow it to happen. (I was a much nicer person as a child.) I glare at Ashley while still coloring my Easter Bunny, angry that her lies had ruined my precious crayons that I had kept nice all year. While her crayons were torn to bits, broken, and in gigantic bits. Now my crayon was in gigantic bits with it's beautiful purple wrapper marred when the teach snapped it in two.
I continued to color, outside the lines this time, in silent protest to my teacher's actions. A few moments go by the teacher goes to yell at some other child for something equally as ridiculous. Ashley turns to me and pulls out a large stump of purple crayon. "Oh, I find mine. Here, you can have your other half back now."
I seethed with anger, thinking of the injustice of it all.
After years of therapy, and getting a 32 pack of crayons the next year at school, I was pretty over the whole thing.
But now, now hateful hateful hollywood producers have profited off of my childhood horrors - they've made a television serious off of this horrific incident in my life.
They've changed a few critical details of the story - just so I wouldn't sue their happy little pants off. First of all, they've changed me into a boy. Now, I'm "HAROLD"!!! Do I look like a Harrold to you? I didn't think so. Also, who has named their baby harold in the last half century. I thought that name went out of vouge in about the time someone landed on the moon. They've also made it not at all about a purple crayon being broken, but about his adventures with the crayon? (I'm not really sure, I can't be troubled/can't stand to relive the childhood horror.) This "Harold and the Purple Crayon" is a blatent rip off of the horrific childhood events that torture me today (or maybe I just have nothing else interesting to write about?) Anyone know a good patent lawyer? Clearly, these people are profiting off of horrific, tramatizing events. The least they could do is sent me a tee-shirt!
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