One time, I told my friends not to egg a house,
they egged me instead.Mother said, “Better no company than bad.”
There was this other time, I stood up to the girls giving Sarah a wedgie,
And they stopped.
Unfortunately, their will to wedgie did not cease with their actions.
Beating like my heart, my feet hit the pavement thud after thud. I felt my blood pulsing through my toes, and all my air passages were raw with the erosion of the wind I greedily scraped into them to fuel my escape. Speed or tears blurred my vision, I couldn’t tell.
Three blocks I ran.
Three blocks they chased. I faltered, and there was no mercy.
I’ve decided that being the hero is hard, and that maybe I will only do it on occasion.
Apparently a lot of the work is pro-bono.
At the end of the ordeal, my face covered in tears, snot, and my granny panties which I now wore as both hat and harness, I looked proudly at my reflection in the puddle I had cried for myself.
Mother reminded, “Being a hero is it’s own reward.”