Early Memory About A Fuckhead Who's Probably Living Some Kinda Dream

I was in kindergarten, about five years old. It was recess, and I was playing or doing whatever kids do at recess, and I ventured "out of bounds". I recall a row of trees and myself marching merrily amongst their long shadows. Some kid pointed at me from the safety of the nearby in-bounds area and said, "You're out of bounds! I'm telling on you!!" I still remember my heart thumping as for the first time in my life it occurred to me I was about to be in deepy doggy-doo with the grown-ups. I didn't want to be in trouble! I was a good kid. I did well in spelling contests and always sat up straight. So I ran up to this kid whose smug little pout informed me that it didn't matter what I said to him now, I'd been out of bounds, and I was in deep trouble. "Please!" I implored, but as I spoke the P sound, some spittle came out of my mouth and rained upon the child's pouty visage. "You just SPAT on me! Oh my god, I'm double-telling!!!" "Shit!" I cried. This delighted the child's smug face even more. "And you swore! You're in SO much trouble." So the kid started running up to tell the teacher who was on patrol (patrol?) how naughty I was. I chased the kid. I recall trying to tackle the little fuck but he was too fast. There was an adult approaching us from the school building and this child was hellbent on racing me to this grown-up and getting me in deep doggy doo. Maybe I'd even get detention! DOUBLE SHIT! So I ran and the child ran and time definitely slowed down as the adult got closer. I was so scared. Then it became clear that the approaching adult was my mother. This filled me with even more horror. Oh my god I was going to be in soooo much fucking trouble now. "Miss! Miss!" the child yelped to my mum, as I grabbed at his arms and tried to cover his mouth. "He swore! He spat at me! He was out of bounds!" But my mum waved away the little snitch as you would a bug or some kind of unpleasant odour. The kid looked confused. I was angry as hell. "I didn't do anything wrong!" I cried to my mum. She looked at me like she didn't give a shit. "I was just wondering if you wanted an icy pole? I'm on canteen duty," she informed me. I don't recall much else except that on grounds of some kind of sulky sense of misguided injustice, I refused to enjoy the icy pole. I still ate it though. But anyway, the point is, my mum's awesome, and I love my mum, and all those snitchy little dibberdobber types can get fucked.

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