Green Eggs and Ham: Extra Bit(e)s - Guy

High School Days

Guy-Am-I was just an ordinary teen at Stovepipe High. He got good grades, joined a few clubs, and had a small but manageable group of friends. But in his spare time, he liked to invent. This hobby was unbeknownst to his friends, but his family was well aware of the fact. For Guy, it was easy to think of reasons to invent new things, but it was hard to make sure that his family didn't spill the beans to everyone who lived outside of Stovepipe. Even though his group of friends was small, his family was loved by everyone for being so good at their jobs.

But Guy had big dreams in mind. Inventing was his specialty and was waiting to let the whole world know that. Blue printing, that was easy. Gathering materials, also easy. The fatal flaw in his aspiration? The inventions kept exploding. He needed a back up plan in case his dream didn't work out. He had one, but was a bit nervous to act on it...
——
"I'd like to join a sport, coach", Guy told his gym teacher, Mr. McTerri.

"Guy-Am-I? You never really struck me as the 'sporty' kind of person", McTerri said.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with trying new things."

"In that case, did you have any sport in mind? Is there something you feel the most comfortable with testing?"

Guy looked around the gym. A bunch of the other students were doing gymnastics on various devices, hitting punching bags, or climbing rope. Finally he turned to McTerri and said, "I don't know, I think I'll try...basketball. You guys make it look fun."

A smile crossed McTerri's face. With his bushy beard and eyebrows, Guy couldn't tell if it was out of genuine happiness or if he was internally saying: This kid's crazy. "All right then. Go ahead and put on a jersey and meet me on the court outside."
——
"This is Guy-Am-I, boys. He's here to join the team and I want you to help him figure out how the game works", McTerri tells the basketball team, which had seven players all lined up and wearing navy blue jerseys. Some of them started snickering to themselves. Guy felt his confidence wavering.

McTerri assigned three of the boys on Guy's side, hands Guy the ball and blows his whistle. The other players had their hands spread on either side of themselves, waiting for Guy to make a move. Then he started running forward with the ball tucked under his arm. McTerri blew his whistle again.

"That's traveling!", one of the boys said.

"Yeah, everyone knows that you're supposed to dribble!", another one said. Guy simply rolled his eyes.

"Come here, Am-I", McTerri said. Guy did so. In a lowered voice, the coach asked, "Could you tell me what that was about?"

"Sorry, sir", Guy said. "I wasn't thinking. I just got nervous."

"Don't worry. We're just practicing, mistakes are encouraged here", McTerri said. He handed Guy the ball and blew his whistle.

Guy started dribbling as the team got into position again. His guard swiped the ball from him and ran and dribbled the ball all the way to the other side of the court and made the shot.

Even if it was just part of the game and they were just practicing, Guy still felt embarrassed that he lost the ball. Every time it was passed to him, he lost it just as fast. And when he did get the chance to take the shot, it either fell short or hit the backboard. The next time he tried, it bounced off the rim and hit one of the boys in the face. He held his nose in pain as the others ran over to him. One of the players (who was named Nolte, while not the school bully, he did pick on Guy every chance he got) said to Guy, "I've heard of amateurs, but even a Jiboo would've made a shot by now." Guy, so full of anger from the embarrassment, hits Nolte in the stomach. Everyone looked at him. McTerri had his mouth agape. Guy just wanted to die right then and there. He peeled off his jersey and left. McTerri ran after him.

"Hey, hey, wait a second, Am-I! Not so fast!" The coach stopped Guy just outside the door. "Come on, you can't give up that easily. It's just part of the game."

"At least I'm hating the game and not the players. I can't believe I wanted this", Guy said. He took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sorry, coach. I don't think I'm cut out for this. And I'm sorry that I hit Fink on the nose. See you tomorrow in class." He tried to walk away, but McTerri grabbed his arm.

"Guy, I'm sorry you feel this way. But whomever you aspire to be, just know that you have my support, kid."

Guy felt a smile on his face. He says, "Thank you, coach" and walks off.
——
Sitting in the tent at the top of his treehouse, Guy sits cross-legged on the floor as the pinwheels give him light, their rainbow colors not at all matching how he feels. Maybe basketball didn't work, but baseball could? No. Sports are just not what he's cut out for. Inventing seemed to be the only card for him to play. He couldn't figure out how to keep his devices from exploding. He hoped that such a problem would be gone before he was done with school so that he could present them to investors when the time's right. In his workshop below, he had blueprints for an automatic shelf organizer for your books (have them arranged alphabetically, by title or author, or arranged chronologically), a battery-powered TV stand that you can control to make the TV closer to you, and, this one he had a name for, a "Self-Flyer", which seemed pretty self explanatory, but the parts to make it were years away from today, so that would need to be shown at the absolutely perfect time...