All I want to say is that no-one listened to my side of the story. See, when I was seven I accidentally set the house on fire playing with matches behind the couch. Really, though, isn’t that more my mum’s fault? What kid isn’t intrigued by the quick, flashing spurt of a lighting match? That intense, yellow flame, flickering so brightly and slowly catching onto the plump, purple threads of that old couch? Building and spreading, leaping up, orange and crackling and hot.
Really, my mum shoulda nipped in the bud right then. And I guess she might have done, if the smoke hadn’t got her.
Nothing else happened after that. Well, nothing big. Sure someone burned grandad’s apple trees and the rabbit hutch got covered in petrol and went up in flames with this really big wumph. But that coulda been anyone. And I took Bunny out first.
Course grandad got pretty mad about his trees and stuff so they sent me away to school for a bit to “sort my head out”. Man, did you know some boarding schools have these Bunsen Burners and whole classrooms full off little gas taps to fuel them up? Dangerous huh? Anything could happen. If you think about it.
So I ended up back with granny and grandad and they sure weren’t pleased to see me, especially granny, crying and all. They were so upset they didn’t even think to check what I’d bought on the way home. If they’d been more focussed, they wouldn’t have just headed off to bed without even thinking about me and my head full of all that lovely heat and fire and noise. Tell you what though, that night those flames musta been thirty feet tall.
So, yeah, I had a tough time growing up and, I’m human, I still miss granny. But it’s cool. I’m totally over everything now. I’m just a regular guy saying hi to my new neighbours, hoping we’ll all be friends.