A Generational Pain

[DISCLAIMER: What you are about to read may be triggering if you were the following: A latchkey kid, A badass kid, a kid that grew up before the digital age, a kid whose curfew signal was the streetlights. Please take caution]

I can make you feel something.

Let me set the scene.

You’re eight years old and it’s summer vacation. You’re outside with your friends playing and having a good time. Your friend three houses down got a new scooter for their birthday and lets you try it out. You excitedly get on and take it for a spin. You are happy and have now decided you too want a scooter.

As you ride back to your group of friends you meticulously plan out how you will execute the proposal to your parents. You concluded they’ll go over easy because of the impeccable report card you brought home. You smile knowing this. You enjoy the wind blowing in your hair as you head back. You get to your friends but they have gathered around some trees. You look down at the scooter realizing you’ll have to carry it while you walk through the uncut, wild grass. That’s no problem for you, the scooter is light, you make a quick mental note of that and add it to the list of pros you will present to your parents during the proposal.

As you lift the scooter by the handles, time slows. You look up and see your friend, the owner of this amazing and spectacticle contraption called scooter but their face is all wrong. You’re wondering why there’s a look of concern and fear on their face and why is it directed towards you? What could possibly be wrong? Your smile fades and suddenly you see the world in a third person perspective. Yeah third person perspective is right, your English teacher Mrs. Burkes just taught you that.

As the situation plays out you see your friend reach out to you as they yell “nooooo..” they begin to run towards you. You think to yourself “No? What the heck is wrong with them?” Heck because hell is cussing and cussing is bad. Cussing is really bad.

You see yourself make the first step while the scooter is lifted off of the ground. (Sweet sweet child) You see it all, you see everything. Just as you’re about to take the next step the scooter swivels and crashes into your ankle with an impact that can be heard from the next neighborhood over. Breath leaves your body and gets lost on its way back. You fall to the ground, hand gripping your chest.

The pain oh the pain. Nothing in your eight years of life could have prepared you for this kind of pain. You search through your memory trying to find anything comparable. You think about the butt whopping your mama gave you for pushing your stupid brother off the trampoline, you think about that fall you had while rollerblading, you even think about that time in P.E when a basketball bounced off the side of your head, leaving you with a lump on your forehead for days. Nothing, nothing compared to this.

Breath has finally found its way back to you and upon its arrival you scream without second thought “you son of a bitch!” Cussing is bad but fuck that. You continue to yell out profanities that would put disappointment on your mothers face but you don’t care. Your mother isn’t the one who’s ankle was nearly sliced off. But somewhere in the back of your mind you pray she can’t hear you.

Tears are flowing as you lay on your back looking to the sky. You think about that Sunday school lesson brother Jerome taught about karma and reaping what you sew. What did I sew to reap a horrible thing like this? Hath the lord forsaken me? Thoughts, raging thoughts flood your mind but you can’t concentrate because your ankle is throbbing and pulsing like it has its own heartbeat.

Your friends rush over to you. Some concerned, a few amused. You take mental note of who’s laughing and will decide later how to make them regret it. The owner of the scooter helps you up and says, “yeah that happened to me too last week. Just promise not to tell, okay? If you tell, I won’t get to keep it.” You look at your friend’s pleading face and realize, if they went through this too and still want the damned thing then they must truly enjoy it. You look away dramatically and agree you won’t tell.

You limp home. You curse that retched scooter and you curse your friend for not warning you of such risks. You wince in pain as you climb the stairs to your house. You get to the front door and remember that prayer you prayed hoping God will look out this time. You open the door and find your mother is sitting in her favorite chair watching In The Heat of The Night. You muster up all of the strength you have to walk like your ankle wasn’t just crushed with a sledgehammer pretending to be a scooter.

Your mother stops you on your way to your room. You bite the inside of your cheek as pain reverberates through your leg. “Have you decided what you want as your gift?” Suspicious crawls under your skin as you hear your mother speak. You say nothing and she continues “hmmm let’s see now…”. She knows. Of course she knows, she’s got ears like a damn hawk. “You have plenty of video games and a bike is too basic. What about…”. Your body tenses and you prepare for the worst. “What about a scooter upside your damn head. The next time I hear you cussing like you done lost your goddamn mind, imma whoop yo ass like I’ve lost mine.”

You say yes ma’am mama and head to your room. You curse that scooter, you curse it until you fall asleep. When you wake up you find an ice pack on your ankle and a happy meal on your nightstand. You open your McNuggets and honey mustard recalling the traumatic event that transpired earlier. You bite into your nuggie and say to yourself, “fuck scooters”.

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I literally just wrote this so if you see typos just use context clues lol. If you have never felt a scooter to ya ankle consider yourself lucky. I would in fact wish that pain on my enemy lol. I’m still working on my story but i said in the last post that one should just post rigamaru to combat stagnation and so i’m heading my own advice. I do hope you all enjoyed this. As always if you read this far, you a real on pookie. Muah!