Family Game Night
So this is how it was. They had turned against me. This was war! They brought it upon themselves, really. They were so eager at first, it was a game to them. Now they were fidgeting nervously, waiting for their cards to be dealt.
We were in a dimly lit basement room. The tension was so thick you would have needed a jackhammer to cut through it. A crowd of six or seven people were watching and occasionally whispering to one another. Were they placing bets? It was anybody's game, really.
I motioned for the crowd to be silent. My opponents and I just sat there. The dealer slid us the cards, keeping track of how many each person got. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Seven cards. I could taste victory on the tip of my tongue. Though the taste was very faint, it was there.
I arranged the cards in my hand, careful not to show anyone. I was hoping I had the advantage. As my opponents -- or enemies, rather-- scanned the cards they held, I did the same. The person across the table laid down a few cards. I glared at him and laid down a pair of four of hearts.
The game was nearing its end. It seemed like so much more than a game! The kid across from me asked in his nasty, menacing voice, "Got any twos?" I looked at him for a long time. Then a slow smile stretched across my face. "Go fish," I replied. He laid his head face down on the card table in defeat. That was it. I had won family game night.
Lemon Crayon
My full name is Lemon Crayon Joe Bob Thompson…
My parents met 34 years ago. My mom was an aspiring artist. My dad was not. He wanted to be a professional carpet cleaner. They were going to the same college. I know what you’re thinking, a carpet cleaner in college? Well, yes. Anyways, my mom was in art class drawing and what not and my dad needed a staple gun from the art department when mom dropped her lemon colored crayon. Dad picked it up and
handed to her. Blah, blah, blah.
Two years later, I was born. My parents wanted a name that was unique. They went through names such as: Yosemite, Chewbacca, Duck Man, Sardine etc. And then my mom said to dad with a gleam in her eye, “Let’s name him Lemon Crayon!”
My dad loved the name and when I was born, mom told all the nurses that my name was to be Lemon Crayon. They didn’t believe her. Who would? It was weird! When I was in middle and high school and decided to have my friends come over (they simply called me “L.C.” or “Thompson”) mom and dad would go on AND ON about how wonderful my name was and scolded my friends for not calling me Lemon
Crayon.
Bullies would put me on their resume. Kids went as me for Halloween. Having a weird name was known as “having a Lemon Crayon name”.It was not fun to be me.
When I was applying to go to college, I was usually turned down because no one believes you when you say your name is Lemon Crayon. When I did get into college I ended up in an art school. On the first day of class I was praised for changing my name to an art medium. I said that I didn’t really care about art but my parents wanted me in college and I just happened to be named after a crayon. I got kicked out of the school.
Finally a REAL college accepted me and I learned how to manage a business. I joined a company that makes fancy granola. I remember my first meeting a.k.a. one of the most humiliating days of my life.
“Okay guys!” My boss told us. “This is a huge meeting. If it goes well our granola could be advertised by none other than Abigail Douglas!” She was a spokes person who was highly sought after in the world of breakfast and snack food.
“Don’t blow it! If you do…Just don’t, okay?”
We all sat around the long conference table. I heard Ms. Douglas’ voice on the other side of the line. I was in charge of marketing, so I was supposed to do the talking.
“Ms. Douglas, I’m the head of the marketing department for Yummy Granola, have you read over the contract?”
“Yes Mr. - what’s your name?” She had to be kidding. If I said my real name then the whole deal would be over and done for!
“Mr. Thompson.” I said.
“I don’t call people Mr. It’s so old fashioned.” What?! Didn’t she know that my name humiliated me?
“Lemon Crayon,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Lemon Crayon,” I mumbled again.
“Speak up! Do you want to have me represent Yummy Granola or what?"
“LEMON CRAYON!!!” I screamed.
“Is this a joke?” She asked angrily.
“No! You can call me L.C….”
I heard a click on the line. She hung up. Everyone in the room looked at me. No one said anything. And then my boss, Mr. Charles, said something so quietly I could barely hear.
“I will give you a five second head start.”
I tried to figure out what he meant. I knew when he jumped out of his chair and ran after me. I was glad Mr. Charles didn’t work out. I could out run him. But when I reached a dead end he caught me.
“Lemon Crayon, you ARE FIRED!!!”
The next day I met a girl at the unemployment office. Her name was Fish Pie. We got along great and eventually got married and had two kids named Yoda and Scooby-Doo. They got bullied all the time and we all lived miserably ever after.
THE END
