“The Dumb Rules of Art”
“Don’t color her hair blue and don’t color her skin red,” my kindergarten teacher said. “Make her look like a normal girl.”
“That’s a dumb rule,” I shouted and then kicked my poor teacher. I don’t remember what happened after that, but I believe I was sent home. But where did those cuts and bruises come from?
I told my dad what happened later that day.
“The government likes to control your brain,” he said. I assumed he was joking.
“Grey”
I used to date the king. His eyes were grey. He was handsome and rich, but also a tyrant. He broke both my legs and then gave me a crutch. The crutch was grey.
“Without me,” he said. “You wouldn’t be able to walk.” So much for that social contract.
No comments:
Post a Comment