I found this in my closet collecting dust. I’m guessing I was about 4 or 5 when I wrote it, because I know that by 6, I could string together complete sentences and by 8, I was reading Tolkein. Ah, early relics of childhood creativity. It reminds me of “I Am Better Than Your Kids.” 

Introducing the world premiere of:

“Jamie Wants to Play”

I’m glad dyslexia is a normal part of childhood development and I grew out of that.

It’s 11 pages, so bear with me.

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We begin in medias res. Jamie is asking his dad “Why?”

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Jamie really wants to play.

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I think the kid’s persuasive argument was met by child abuse.

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The permissive mother archetype.

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Fuck the what.

Ok, what I think is happening is that he fell off the grass onto the road.

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Oncoming headlights.

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And boom goes the dynamite.

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Self-explanatory.

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That’s the end. I didn’t write any more of the story.

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I don’t know if I just got lazy or distracted by candy, but it ends with Jamie laying dying in a pool of his own blood. Kind of disturbing for a 4-year-old but nonetheless demonstrates an early conceptualization of the fragility of the human body.

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Moral of the story:  It doesn’t matter if you want to play today, because we’re all going to die.

The End