tortured goldfish

dead goldfish

When I was old enough for kindergarten, my parents prepared me for my first day of school. To fancy me up and make a handsome boy out of me, they spread and combed gobs of Vaseline throughout my hair. My head felt as if I was wearing a bronze metal helmet weighing ten pounds, but they accomplished their task. My hair stayed in place and wouldn’t move. But once I was at school, they didn’t bargain for my less-than-enthusiastic response!

As my parents took me into the kindergarten class, my heart was pumping with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Right then and there, I decided that school was not for me. I began screaming, kicking, and yelling, not wanting to be left alone with a bunch of strangers. Then in one motion, I jerked my desk into the teacher’s, causing a fishbowl to come flying off her desk and crash onto the floor. As the goldfish were flipping and flopping on the floor, I momentarily stopped and watched as they struggled and gasped for air. Snapping out from my daydream about the goldfish, I continued my tantrum, until at last the teacher had no choice but to send me home with my parents.

God Verses 5

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