All You Need Is Food

2008

February 14, 2008

Bacon

Spaghetti

Ice cream

“Darling, wake up.”

 Food.

“Myra, wake up now.”

Food.

 “Myra Anne Patterson! Wake up!

Food food food food food.

“Myra, you better sit up or I’m pouring cold water.”

I sit up instantly.

Look at my alarm clock.

Then fall right back to bed.

“Mooooom! I’m sleeeeeeping!” I whine rolling on my bed refusing to acknowledge that the sun has already been pinned up in the sky.

“Well, I know that darling. I wouldn’t be here to wake you up if you weren’t sleeping, won’t I?”

I turn my head sideways, open one eye, and look at her flatly, “And you ask me where I learned to be sarcastic.”

She rolls her hazel eyes. “You’re welcome. You should be grateful I passed that trait to you. Now get up. It’s a Monday.”

I sit up almost immediately. How could I forget? I have classes today. I scrambled to my feet and scurried to the bathroom. I can’t miss a day at school. I hate missing any important lessons.

Thanks to Dexter, I learned to be more and more like him – a nerd at heart, mind, and soul. But then to all those who bullies our kind, I just want to inform you this: I’m raising my middle finger.

Yeah, I know, pretty tough thinking for a thirteen year old, but after every time I defend my red headed slave from anyone who dares to bully him, I grew stronger.

Kidding!

Stronger my butt, I’m practically the one person everyone in our batch is scared of. I grew strongest. Though I don’t really think they’re scared of me because I have the vibe that says, “Hey, I can beat you in 5 seconds flat”. No. They’re afraid of me because I have the face and the body that screams, “Hey! I can swallow you alive in 5 seconds flat!”

Sometimes I feel down about it because I’m not that cruel. I mean, I only eat food. Eating people is just bringing eating to whole new level. I’m not a cannibal! Jeez.

But eh. At least I don’t get bullied.

After showering, I changed into a random shirt and a pair of pants folded on the top of the pile, put on the nearest pair of shoes my feet can reach, and glanced at the mirror.

I looked horrid as always, wearing a green shirt with a ‘go green’ printed boldly in front, red pants that clung too much to my enormous thighs, and yellow neon sneakers. I cringed at the horrible color combination. What is this? Christmas?

But instead of changing, I shrugged on my bag and went out of my bedroom. I never cared about how I looked like anyway. Nothing in the entire universe can make me look less of an ogre, so why bother dressing up nicely?

It’s not like the clothes I wear will hide my unruly short brown hair that emphasizes my round face, my thick dark unibrow that steals the spotlight of my hazel eyes, my big fish lips that covers my parted teeth – wait no, my parted teeth with braces, and lastly, my body that is now wearing a December 25th costume.

So hello world! Just call me the ugly ball of ugliness because not to brag or anything, but I put the ugliest ogre to shame.

“Shrek! We are family!” I shout into nothing.