Remind Me Again

019

019  (Ivan’s POV)

“You’re in my bones and my blood. I’d have to tear myself open to let you go.”

~Romeo & Juliet; Shakespeare

September 01, 2012

So my absence in my own POV last time for chapter 018 was quite a scandal on my part. But then the reason for my absence was not because I was sick. Yet I must admit that I was kind of grounded for what happened to my dad’s Audi R8. As the town’s Judge, I was his number one suspect for stealing his beloved Stewart. What an idiot. Who would name their car Stewart? Well, it didn’t stop my father. Anyways, to make me pay for the disappearance of his beloved “Stewart”, he locked me up in my room like it was the best way to handle me. Does he even know me better? Surely, he didn’t because if he had been a great father to me, he would know that my escape would mean through the window. And he did not put bars on my window like Harry Potter.

You see kids; our parents cannot blame us if we go off to the road of rebellion. As Maslow’s hierarchy of needs no. 3 tells us: we struggle in the need of belongingness. And by way I understand that pyramid, I realize my need of getting out to see Tamara is far worse than my hypopituarism.

So dear readers, if you are underage and reading this, let me have the stage to explain to you how and why teenagers like me got the taste of rebellion. Why not we look back on the fairytales we’ve grown up with? Let’s start with Jasmine. Yes, our Agraban princess is in a relationship with a dirty, homeless boy named Aladdin. Snow White, well Ms. Fourteen year old princess lived alone with seven little men. You know the wooden boy Pinocchio? Yeah? He’s a liar. Robin Hood was as sly as Swiper the fox when it comes to stealing. Tarzan, walked around without clothes on. Imagine the horror for old women. Sleeping Beauty, the poor innocent maiden was kissed by a stranger and she actually married him. Want another example of “talking” to strangers? Try Red Riding Hood. The Pied Piper was a skilled musician—imagine he lured children to their deaths. And Cinderella, she lied and snuck out at night to attend a party. Just think of the harsh truth that fairytales bring. I know I am being tactful about fairytale folks but my point is: parents cannot blame us teenagers for rebellion because obviously, we were taught of rebellion in such a young age. Now I suggest that they change the MTRCB ratings of General Audience to cartoons to Parental Guidance.

Who am I to tell you that fairytales set a bad example? No one. I am just a part of a story. Just like them. But I was materialized in the real world. Where bad things like Tamara’s accident happen. I’m only saying what I think is true. Fairytales do have their values in the end. But did anyone read these fairytales before? Has anyone tried to read the real stories behind them? These stories had been altered because they were dark enough to be told to children. Want to know the truth? Search the internet. And if you are smart enough to guess what happened next to me, well you, my friend, are the next Einstein. Be my guest.

***

So as my bitterness for not doing the last chapter faded with the wind, I waited for Tamara at Burton Street.

She’s under her favorite yellow umbrella again with Putty-tat ears (just to exaggerate the Tweety Bird dialect). I lunged myself at her like a sardonic Sylvester.

“Stupefy!” Tamara shouts as she waves her fake wand at me and I pretended to fall on her knees.

Sufferin’ succotash! “Help me. Help me. I am dying…” I said as I played the dying. She rolls her eyes at me.

“No, you’re not.” She twists the fake wand in her hand. “This is a pen.” She waves it at me and then she opens the lead. Poof! There goes the point of the magic wand—I mean pen.