Some people recently have been subjected to a particularly painful anecdote of mine, from when I was but a young, bashful sixth grader.
And now, the Internets will be forced to accept (not necessarily enjoy) the very same anecdote.
I’ve come prepared. I am not merely telling the story. I ‘ve made a webcomic (using cheezburger.com’s memebuilder function) that I’m thinking the majority of trolls, web-browsing fanatics, and cheezburger.com fans will understand:
So here’s how the story goes.
One day, in sixth grade, maybe the third week of school, I was sitting alone at lunch. And that was okay. I was a new kid, not just to middle school but to the state. And so I knew nobody.
I was understandably a bit bored, and also somewhat sad. I had no friends, and sitting alone is one of the most effective ways to be made aware of that.
For some reason, the yearbook photographer lady was there that day. A week before, I was approached by an elderly woman, who started off by saying:
“You don’t have any friends, do you?”
No. No I didn’t.
“Well, that’s okay. Just look over your prospects for a while, find out which group you fit into best.”
“Thanks.” She left.
The yearbook lady approached me, alone at a table… not even any food on it. I’d eaten my whole lunch in the first ten minutes. I was forced to sit for thirty minutes every day, alone. My backpack was on the floor.
“Smile,” she said cheerily.
I tried slumping casually, in a nonchalant and cool kind of way. My bright red, fuzzy hoody had sleeves that were too long, and they almost covered my hands completely. And my haircut sucked.
It was a gut-wrenching moment of embarrassment that jumped me a little. But then it was over.
Until the yearbook came out.
I was mortified. I was depicted as a small, scrawny, nerdy little twerp in a decent-sized picture on the sixth-grade collage-of-pictures page.
I shit a brick.
aestheism, not atheism.