Saturday, April 7, 2012

You have to admit, it's cheaper than therapy

He had me pinned to the wall by the collar of my shirt. My left hand inched its way discreetly toward my pants pocket, and I pulled out the one thing that could save me. My lunch money.

It was only two dollars, I was used to it. The faster he left me, the better.

“What’s wrong? You seem out of it today.”

“I’m… being bullied.” I decided to be honest. He slackened his grip on my shirt. I gasped for air.

“Family troubles? Don’t worry, you can talk to me anytime.”

And he walked away with my lunch money.

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