Rotten Eggs

Thanks to my best friend and sister, Alysson, whose friendship keeps me grounded in the roots of our carefree childhood.

So my sister and her fiancé, Miah, were playing tennis in the park recently.  To the right was a child’s modest birthday party centered around a picnic table filled with treats.  To the left, in juxtaposition, was another child’s birthday party, literally bouncing with the excitement of a bold and brightly colored space jumper.  While lobbing the ball back and forth, Alysson and Miah were becoming more and more aware of the void their court created; a void which separated the children of peaceful budget bondage, from the party of screaming chaotic excitement.

Then it happened…a defector.  The leader in a soon-to-follow pack of children starved for freedom bolted out across the tennis court in pursuit of a better life the jumper.  He didn’t care what the consequences of his betrayal may be.  All he knew was that that bounce house was HIS.  He was in a total body sprint, running full on with his head thrown back, knees to the chest, arms pumping and chest heaving with every breath as he yelled, “Last one there is a ROTTEN EEEEEEGG!”

Thirty to forty-five seconds behind him trailed a little runt of a child, moving with half-effort and waddling along granny-run style.  In his determination to not be defeated he yells, “First one has to EAT IT!!”