Posted: Mar 21, 2005 8:12 am
Are you holding on to it waiting for the ultimate decision? Do you really want your prints on the final pull when the big guy decides if you go yay or nay to the great beyond or grand beneath? Are you ready to pin it all on this one move? It's turning point.
That shit is so insensitive.
When I was younger on the brown fields of Algoma Elementary School there was this guy, his name was Richie and we called him "Richie the Retard" because he was retarded and he was a year or 2 or five our elder and he was not too bright (he was fucking retarded afterall). We'd play a little game called "I've got the football Richie" where we'd mock that poor bastard by claiming we had the football and hunching over, running a bit and looking semi-convincing of such (at least for a retard, I guess) but we never really had a football in those situations. However he'd chase us, the one with the "football" and he was quick because God declares those who are weak mentally should have redemption in physical ability, and when he was about to claim his "football" prize we stop and throw our hands about and say nothing. Though this nothingness was quite well understood by the unretarded brethren, one of whom would then take over the role of "I got the football" and this shit would go on for minutes, and was especially nice on those days when we didn't have jack to do waiting for the bell to ring so we could go about our figuring, scribbling and academic pursuits. There was no football, he was retarded and he fell for it all the time. Days and days this happened. Yes there was an occasional hitch in the grand scheme, for instance when he was seemingly on to our little "game" (yet that seem so inconceivable, it is more likely that he was frustrated with the fact that he wasn't quick enough to get the ball, and being retarded he wasn't able to understand that he was blessed with Godly Retard strength and speed), this day he pushed a classmate into the mud. This classmate was clad in white, head to toe, and why? I don't know, it was raining for days leading up to this, it wasn't picture day either, but it was muddy as all get out. So Richie the Retard pushes, and J. Tebon splashes into a tepid puddle of muddy water and we all, Richie included, have a grand old laugh at his expense. Richie got in a world of trouble from Lyle S: Math teacher extraordinaire, overseer of righteousness, overbearer of his tough facade and wise old control and banger of Ms. Wirth the librarian [though he could be a just fellow, particularly when I was caught fucking with a small helpless fuck, progeny #4 of many more, which is (are) a different story entirely and one I feel much regret for considering I'll probably get a mail bomb from the recipient of ridicule at some point]). It went on and on and on, and then one day Richie was gone.
4 or so years or more later, after his departure that is (he being Richie), I'm in the relative comfort of somewhere and I hear that some retard drown in the springtime at the mouth of the Forestville damn. This retard had decided that going into freezing, spring rushing waters, with hip boots on was a splendid idea. He stumbled, the boots succumb to the rushing water and it's a bitch enough to stand up in stagnant waters with those on. Pinned beneath the frigid water, he drown, or froze or both.
Richie the retard drown baby.