Anshay Saboo, Class VIII A
Let’s just say I’m a bit squeamish. When my little sister spilled her bean and cheese burrito all over herself, I threw up. When I saw a public restroom, I tossed my cookies. When I got the news that I was moving to a new town, called Chan Francis Co (San Francisco, as I now realize), I vomited (I don’t know why, I guess it’s just a reflex action these days.)
I guess it’s time for an introduction. My name is Mathew Oliver Johnson. You can call me Moose. I lived in a quiet little town called Irvine. And city life was NOT for me.
Cows or cars? I’d choose cows. Wood or steel? I’d go with wood. Sizzling home-cooked bacon or a burger? Definitely bacon. But my father was transferred and I had no choice but to move with the family.
I’m writing this on my third day at my new school and I’m already a celebrity. If you want to know why, a clue may be in the title of this story. So, I was sitting in my classroom called 7th Grade Stars (Ugh! Such a cheesy name) with this jock named ‘Big Boy’. He’s the middle-school bully and he’s serving me iced tea. Want to know why? It’s all about the story of how we met ≈≈ (those wavy lines are me having a flashback but you can’t see it, so I’ve written it down here.)
I was biking through the alleys behind my house with my new friend Danny when three huge [and I mean huge {really huge! (you know when you’re nesting brackets, you have to use these things. I picked up in math class)}] boys blocked our path. I tried to look intimidating. But would you be intimidated by a scrawny seventh-grade kid with orangish hair, freckles and braces? (I don’t think so). The biggest of the pack (who just turned out to be ‘Big Boy’) parked his bike and walked over to me.
“Hey guys, check out this fresh meat!” said the Big guy (I’ll call him Big Bug for now.)
The other two (who I will call Tweedledum and Tweedledee), grabbed me and Danny and pushed us against the wall.
“Lokee here! You know this is our territory. This territory belongs to the tornadoes.” (They should have called themselves the tea bugs; they were always getting into hot water.)
“I just moved here,” I said heroically (okay I overdid it.)
Bug Bug’s face lit up. “Wonderful! Then we can give you the normal Friso welcome!
His eyes narrowed on a plank of rotting wood with maggots crawling all over, in and out, on the soft green tufts of fungus (I think the description’s enough)
Tweedledum and Tweedledee snickered as Big Bug grabbed the wood and selected the biggest, fattest maggot of the pack. He thrust it in my face.
“Eat it,” he commanded, laughing.
I gulped. The slimy thing was wriggling around. Just the sight of it made me want to throw up. I leaned forward and opened my mouth to throw up…
*Warning: Do not read the rest of this story if you have eaten anything in the last 24 hours. Actually, don’t read if you wish to eat again.*
… and got a mouthful of beetle.
“Gahh!” I screamed.
The little grub felt like a slime ball in my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but Tweedledum had clasped a hand over my mouth. Trying to keep my intestines where they belong, I chewed and swallowed. It wasn’t actually that bad!
I walked over to the plank and grabbed another and popped it in my mouth.
“Yum!” I said.
Big Bug fell to his knees in front of me. “I will serve you,” he said.
“As you wish,” I said. “Now bring me a smoothie!” (And why not?)
So now I’m sitting with my feet on the table with Big Bug serving me iced tea and Tweedledum and Tweedledee fanning me. I guess city life won’t be so bad after all.
(I guess you’re disappointed you didn’t get to learn how to eat beetles, but I bet you were entertained!)
