A Whippersnapper’s Misadventure
Merusha Mukherjee
I firmly clasped my ears, trying to block out all the wretched nuisance. It didn’t work. Wave after wave of
mirthful laughter penetrated in. I opened my eyes only to see all my comrades huddled around a display.
Their eyes were eager and bright and their mouths gaped in awe. Jealousy and rage rampaged through my
insides and my only ventilation was to sit and stew like a bowl of mistreated soup. As her heels conflicted
with the muddy terrain, my teacher tottered up to me. She bent down to my level and heaved a sigh.
“Merusha, it aches me to see you like this …but I do hope a lesson has been learned.”
I quickly shifted my gaze as I engaged in a fierce battle to constrain the succeeding tears.
I’ve never disclosed this to a soul, but I often wonder, even at this age, if I had known the
consequences…would I have done it? The act of disobedience clashed violently with my clement
persona. I know not what came over me, but now I deeply repent tarnishing my reputation at an age so
ripe.
Of course all blame cannot be imputed on myself for I was a victim of boredom. Kindergarten
was an absolute yawn; every day distastefully routine, every activity lacking challenge, and all the
children so mournfully simple. My brain cells slowly wilted away as they were never used to their full
potential. Life had dissipated to a low point and something radical had to be done.
The day that was host to the fateful event started off as many others did, drenched in misery. As
usual I protested with futility to my wonderfully unyielding mother.
“Mother, can I pleeeeeease go somewhere?”
My mother, with her queer countenance replied.
“Is school not somewhere?”
“No. It’s a dungeon to my ecstasies.”
“Look at you! Talking with so much juice! Where did you even learn that?!”
“Movie me and Dad watched yesterday.”
“It’s ‘Dad and I’ and why are you watching movies on weekdays…that’s a big no-no.”
I quickly deviated her off the insignificant misdemeanor with, “Mother! School! Please don’t make me
go. We’re going to spend FOREVER going over the rules for the carnival!!!”
“Rules are made to be broken eh?” she said with a wink, “Ha I’m just kidding. Never not follow rules!
Ahaa, Here we are. Have an exquisite day my lovely.”
“A grocery bagger has a more exquisite day than me,” I grumbled and stormed off.
I entered the class and was immediately rewarded with maniacal laughter and rapid movements. I heard
fragments of “Tag you’re it!...NO you are!” and a considerably hazardous amount of giggling. I
vehemently told myself that that game of tag was a rather perilous form of physical exertion that I most
certainly didn’t belong in. Yet, I felt myself silently brooding over how no one had asked me to join the
frivolous game. I skedaddled over to my very dear acquaintance, Emily who was immersed in her hands
and feet.
“Watchya doooing?” I inquired, disrupting her great deal of concentration.
“I have 10 fingers AND toes!” she triumphantly informed me.
“Congrats, you’re human,” I satirically told her.
She wrinkled her nose in disdain and turned her little flushed face away. I felt myself drowning in my
personal pool of uncanny knowledge. I forced myself to perk up and asked her if she was going to the
school carnival. This sudden, delighting notion made her minute attention span go haywire and fail to
retain all its anger towards me.
“Oh the carnival!!!! I can’t wait! I’m super duper oooper excited!” she told me, shaking with felicity.
I smiled at her eccentric behavior and decided to participate in it so she didn’t feel too lonesome in her
actions. Finally the teacher remembered her duties and reason for income and decided to congregate us in
a foul smelling corner. There she proceeded to drone on and on about basic carnival rules till my interest
was utterly mutilated and I decided upon watching the peculiar behavior of my comrades. Some were