ShtE Luck

That's a good question Berny. As you may have noticed by now and probally haven't, I am a free spirit. As free as a bird, a plane, and superman combined. Although one could argue that birds can be caged, air planes are ruled by their pilots, and superman was never to have his love Louis.

I guess I'm getting off topic a little. It all started when I was a child of seven. On my first day of going to Blankety Blank Elementary School I had art class after recess. Now I was never one of thoser arts crazed children, I always savored the taste of glue and most sparkles where used to blind my foes in combat. With all this behind me one could say I walked into that art room with a faint feeling of anxiety.

Then I saw the scissors. Slender lengths of pointed steel with sturdy orange plastic handles. Scenes of blood and mayhem flashed through my head. I could rule the world with those scissors. (and one day I would, different story)

Half an hour into Mrs. Greensmokinghippies class it became apparent that I would not be able to gain access to these 'scissors' as freely as I had hoped. I plotted in the back of the classroom, perched on my wooden stool which I was forbidden to lean from. Deep below the table my hands worked furiously, mixing the perfect amounts of my old friends glitter and glue. This stuff was the finest on the market, white elmers and bluish tinged Party! brand. I shook my head at the bottle of glitter. There would be no party today.

The teacher came to inspect my macaroni art and I sprung into action. She was blinded instantly by my horrible concotion. In hindsight blinding her for a month may have been a little harsh, but she was probally perscribed medicinal wacky tabaccy.

I sprinted for the scissors, dodging teachers aids. SMASH! I dived through the nearby picture window, grabbing the scissors from Mrs. Greensmokinghippies desk mid flight. Once free I fled to the woods. That would be the last time any civilized person saw me until my teenage years.

I reached the edge of the woods before I noticed my wounds, the window had been real glass rather than the sugar compound I had practiced on in my child stunt double days. Still, I fled onward. Deeper and deeper into the dark woods I ran, like a twisted Snow White. In exaustion I collapsed on a mossey rock, making peace with death.

That night the Nestea tribe found my body. They nursed me back to health and raised me as one of their own, giving me my Indian name 'Runs With Scissors'.

I shall always remeber my carefree days in the wilderness of Cape Cod withe the Nesteas. I have equated running with scissors with freedom ever since.

My final response is the following: Stay free, stay running, and never trust umbrellas.