New Friends

When I moved to Atkinson Illinois in the fall of 1977 I was very weary of moving. I was in 7th grade and this was my 6th school. It seemed everytime I made new friends and new connections we would up and move and I would have to start all over again.
So in Atkinson I didn't even try. I kept mostly to myself, not wanting to get to know anyone because I knew that soon we would move and I would lose another group of friends. I just wanted to sit by myself and be left alone. Of course being a new kid in a small town meant everyone was looking my way. And of course having a older sister in high school making a (very incredibly bad) name for herself didn't help my attempts to remain anonymous.
Of course even then I was the type who couldn't remain too quite for too long. One day in history class I began openly telling the teacher he was wrong every few minutes or so. ( I thought of it as academic heckling. )This made the class laugh so I began doing more of it. Finally the teacher told me, "If you think you can teach this class better then me you're welcome to try."
I was sent to the office 5 minutes later when I did just that. Now as anyone who has ever made it to the 7th grade can tell you, being different doesn't make you cool it just makes you different. And being different is the kiss of death as far as your place on the social ladder is concerned. I was soon known as ,"That weird new kid."
My worst day in school came sometime in late September when I was walking home across the football field and saw some of the football players beating up on a boy named Billy, who was in my class. The only things I knew about Billy Bull was that he liked Star Trek and he was also an outcast like I now found myself to be. So instead of thinking rationally and just keep walking home, I walked over to help Billy out.
Of course I soon found myself getting the shit beat out me by kids two years or more older then me. I remember thinking very clearly that I shouldn't have walked over there without having a dog like patches to back me up. I also remember thinking clearly that I was going to screw these football players over if it was the last thing I did. (and I did.)
Then all at once they stopped. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were being yelled at by some girl. I looked up (I had been in that classic defense style known as the fetal position) and saw it was another classmate of mine named Susie. She was yelling at the guys beating me up that they should be ashamed of themselves. And by God they did look ashamed of themselves. My attackers soon left me alone and walked away to do whatever it is that football players do alone together in the locker room.
Susie helped me up (Billy was long gone) and walked me home. I asked her why she helped me. She looked at me like that was the stupidest question she had ever heard and said, "that's what friends are for Tom Hernandez." When she talked to me she always called me "Tom Hernandez", almost like it was one word. She would say it like some people would say Charlie Brown. In point of fact I believe that was her intention.
From then on I was in love with that girl. This wasn't a puppy love, "In love with Kathy Lasky", thing we are talking about here, but something deeper. Whenever I had the chance I would stare at her pale blue eyes and long brown hair. One day when I wasn't staring at her I noticed most of the other boys were looking at her as well. I can't say for sure what but there was something very special about her. Susie wasn't the prettiest girl in our class (though she certainly was very pretty) but she was by far and away the most popular.
Susie's friendship with me meant that I no longer had to worry about being beaten up by the local bullies. (Of course having a few of them scared to death by Geno and John didn't hurt me either) I was still something most of my class didn't understand but as long as Susie liked me they tolerated me.
There was nothing special about the boy I tried to save. So of course Billy soon became my best friend in Atkinson. Like everything else in my life, we had a weird friendship. Everyday we would start off great but by the end of it, we would be fighting over something silly like who would win The Enterprise or The Death Star? (Well of course the Enterprise would.) By the end of almost every day we would vow never to speak to each other. The next day we would be friends again.
By the end of 7th grade my "newness" was wearing off and I was becoming more accepted. Billy and I even won first place in the talent show. Thanks to Susie I was even invited to my first party. When my sister ran away from home my whole class understood what was going on and supported me. I even went out for track.
8th grade began after a long and fun summer. Life was good. Billy and I talked about the new Star Trek movie opening up more then a year away and how great it was going to be. (Little did we know) Susie asked if I would help with the 8th grade homecoming float. I gladly accepted. Billy even got the little tractor to pull it during Atkinson's sad attempt at a parade. I soon became one of the photographers for the grade school yearbook.
Life was good and I was content.
So of course in the winter that year my Dad told me we were moving. I was very upset. He told me that we were moving to a Park outside Annawan where I went to school in 6th grade. He asked me if it wouldn't be nice to go back to school with my old friends. I didn't agree but not wanting a blow up with my Dad just nodded.
February 1st was my last day in school. Annawan and Atkinson were two small towns separated by only 6 miles. Everyone told me that they'd see me in the summer when they came out to my Park. I started school in Annawan less then thrilled to be there.
In early May I found out that my entire class from Atkinson had voted that they wanted me to come on the 8th grade field trip to Great America. Billy had already paid for me to come. So one a Saturday in May of 1979 I got one last day to spend with all my friends from my old school. That was one of the happiest days of my young life. When the Atkinson yearbook came out I was sent a copy signed by everyone.
Ironicly this was the second time I had moved to Annawan wishing I could go back to my old school. And it showed though my grades. How I graduated 8th grade is beyond me. I think they just wanted to get rid of me.
Soon summer came and I discovered the joys of living at a private park. Many of my old classmate's families belonged and came out to swim in my backyard. Susie was one of them. Billy wasn't a member, but I let him come out and swim whenever he wanted to. It was the first of 6 straight great summers for me.
When I started school in the fall of 79 I was a freshman. Highschool was different but I soon became to enjoy it. Life was falling back into a routine.
Friday October 26th I got a call from Billy. I was out playing somewhere in my Park when he called. My Mom took a message and told me to call him back. Dad took me to a movie that night and I forgot to call him back. I thought it was no big deal.
On Monday October 29th 1st period class had just started when a kid turned around and asked me if I heard about the kid getting killed over the weekend. "What kid?", I asked.
"Some kid name Billy Bull from Atkinson. He was on top of his corn bin when the auger came on. He got sucked into the corn and was crushed to death."
I sat there for the next 45 minutes with tears streaming down my face. If this had happened today they would no doubt be grief counselors for me to talk with. But back then they decided the best policy was to ignore the kid who just lost his best friend.
Billy was buried on Halloween. (I think he would have found that funny) Susie sat behind me during his funeral. The entire time her hand was on my arm. I barely kept myself from crying while I was there. When it was over I couldn't go to the gravesite part of the service and instead went home.
That December I watched the new Star Trek movie wondering what Billy would have thought of it. (He would have thought it sucked. Not enough explosions. Too much talking) I remember thinking how lonely it was without my friend. At that point in my life I only had two good friends. George from Kewanee and Billy. Now I was down to one.
Six months later after coming back from another movie, God would see fit to punish me by sending another old friend back into my life.

OK. Time to write my blog again. My children are never going to get record of my life at this rate. Anyway for those of you with small monkey like brains (I'm looking in your direction again Mark.) my last regular post before my life went to hell was about Vinny the Vampire moving next door to us in the spring of 1975. My Dad was working as a member of the Park police in Kewanee Illinois. (Kewanee is known far and wide as the hog capital of the world. It's not because of our livestock.)Please read the January 18th post again to catch up to where we should be. I'll wait.
You done? Good.
TV can be a bad influence on a weak mind.
Directly across the street from us in Kewanee were two households that had a total of 7 Teenage girls. Three Draminski girls and four Shinkevich girls. This meant that during the summer of 1975 Geno and John couldn't walk out the front door without sticking their chests out and sucking in the stomachs. If one or more of the girls were actually outside sun bathing Geno and John would make excuses up to get into fights with each other just to try and impress those girls.
Geno and John could be laughing and joking with each other about something they saw on Monty Python or a movie they had seen, but the instant one of them saw a girl across the street they'd jump on the others back and begin to wail away. The minute the girl would vanish out of sight they'd stop and start talking again like nothing had happened.
As late spring progressed into early summer their bruises began to mount up. As did their ripped shirts and torn jeans. Everyone began to joke about how much they were fighting to impress the girls across the street. Dad had even began to take their fighting as routine. (However one time he did go outside and spray them down with a hose to make them stop.)
Everything began to get more then a little silly the day John watched an old movie from the 1950's called Ivanhoe.
Ivanhoe was one of those old movies about Knights and Jousting. (Actually it had a lot more to do with that, but all John saw were guys riding around on horses with long sticks slamming into other guys riding around on horses with long sticks.) At the end of the movie the hero and villain joust over the fate of a woman they both love.
John thought that was just the coolest thing he had ever saw. The next day I saw him sitting outside on the back porch staring at his ten speed bike. I knew he was deep in thought because every now and then he would scratch his head and frown.
The next day everyone on our block was treated to the sight of John on his bike (Which he had spray painted silver with black letters that said Silverstreak) with a trash can lid for a shield and a push broom for a Lance racing against Geno on his old crappy bike with just an old mop for a lance. They started about 5 houses away from each other and peddled rapidly towards each other. With a loud bang they crashed into each other and John went flying from his bike.
Miraculously John was unharmed. (I know if I had been involved there would be a mop sticking out of me to this day.) Geno stood over him and taunted him for falling off his bike. To my amazement the neighbor girls instead of seeing this as the heights of stupidity, actually seemed to be impressed with them. This of course just encouraged them on.
Soon Geno and John were "jousting " with their friends Charlie and Joe, the Lasky boys, and at least one of Vinny the Vampire's kids. (I know it would be a simple matter of looking up his real name, but for almost 30 years I've only thought of him as Vinny the Vampire so why change now?) Despite their best monkey like attempts of be safe injuries began to mount. Black eyes and bruises soon began to spread among all the contestants. However the two worst injuries were not caused by themselves but by me.
My dog Duke would watch the jousting matches behind the fence in the back yard. His barking would get louder and louder as the day went on. One day for no apparent reason I can remember I let Duke out in the middle of one of the matches. It was Geno against Charlie. Duke ran straight for Charlie. When Charlie saw Duke heading straight towards him he began to peddle as fast as he could away from my dog.
unfortunately for Charlie he was going up a slight hill. Duke pounced on Charlie and his ten speed and they all fell over in a loud crash. Charlie landed right on his face and didn't move. As my brothers and the other boys ran towards them Duke began to shake the bike's back tire back and forth in his mouth.
When my Mom and Dad found out what was going on they were furious. Dad suggested only brain dead idiots would crash bikes together on a busy street like we lived on. He demanded that they stop at once.
So of course the next day the jousting matches were held in the alleyway behind the house.
Again for no clear reason I can think of I did something very bad. I had gotten the idea from another movie called the Great Escape. I had already tried it out on my best friend George to great success. (Well for me anyway. George was less then thrilled.)
As Geno and John were racing towards each other down our alleyway I pulled tight a rope I had tied to a pole across the alley road. Geno ran smack into it. Unfortunately for Geno I had misjudged where it should go and it caught him right about the eyes. His head was pulled back and he went flying from his bike to the ground below him.
John saw the rope go tight in front of him and veered out of it's way. Sadly for John he steered his bike right into Dad's parked car. Unfortunately for me I couldn't contain my laughter.
I almost made into the back door before they caught up to me and began to beat the living crud out of me. Of course this was just the right time for Dad to look out the back door.
When it was all over we were all punished. I was punished for nearly decapitating one of my brothers. Geno was punished for still doing those stupid jousting matches. John was punished for still doing those stupid jousting matches and for putting a big dent into the side of Dad's car. I was punished once again for making John put a big dent into the side of Dad's car.
Mom and Dad decided they needed some time away from all of us. Of course them going on a vacation and leaving us at home wasn't even worth considering. So Geno and John were shipped of to stay with some relatives for a week or so. (Dad split them up. Geno went to one of Mom's brothers, and John went to one of Dad's brothers.) I was looking forward to going to one of my cousins house when Dad informed me I would be going to Summer Camp for two weeks.
I was stupid enough to think I might actually enjoy myself there.

Excuses Excuses
Sorry haven't posted anything lately. Many things have been happening. Angie and I have been working together to figure out who gets what and other details. We have agreed to almost everything, except the kids and the house.(the two most important things.) It looks like we may have to let a judge decide. Sadly that may take months. Other then that we are trying to do what is best for the kids in the meanwhile.
Isaac was sick over the weekend with a bad case of pinkeye. Being a bit......Nervous when it comes to eyes, I took him to the emergency room. He see his normal doctor tomorrow. Today I need to take him to the dentist.
Anyway I haven't forgotten my blog or why I was writing this thing to begin with. (No not Mark's 89% of the profits.) So please bare with me and I'll get this thing rolling again in no time.
Anyway I was reading some Shakespeare (Hey I'm a cultured guy.) and found a quote I just love. You know how every now and then you read something that really gets to you? Well this got to me. So being lazy and having nothing else to write I'll leave you with some words from some guy who really could write.
It's from Richard the Third. For those out there that are ignorant in these matters, (I'm looking towards you Mark) It's not the sequel to Richard the Second. Anyway here goes.
" No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
But I know none, and therefore am no beast "
Not sure why I like it so much. Anyway I must get the house straightened before I take Isaac to the dentist today. I'll blog something worth reading here soon.

Another Review

The Kind folks at the Weblog Review have again reviewed me. You can read it by following the above link, or if like Mark your too lazy to actually move the mouse again I'll reprint the review here. (If this is any sort of violation of copyright stuff blah blah blah blah ... Please let me know and I'll take it down)
This isn't the ideal time I would have picked for new readers to come aboard. But The review was far kinder then I would have thought so I won't object.
Anyway here's the review by someone known as darling.

"My initial impressions of My Drivel are as one would expect in terms of a Blogspot site. The design isn't particularly spectacular, however, I was charmed by the teddy bear at the top of the page. It added a certain feel of innocence to the tranquil colors of the site. I also found the About Me portion of the right-hand column to be particularly witty and clever, and it heightened my expectations for the rest of the blog.
From the first entry I read, it became apparent that this blog is by no means ordinary. The author rarely mentions the every day. Indeed, he seems to forgo the normal diary format of blogs in favor of a memoir approach. This approach, with it's myriad possibilities, should pique the interests of most readers who've grown tired of the usual "So today I went to work..." It also works on the level of familiarity. The blog could easily be an actual memoir one would find tucked away at a library.

What's more, the author is eager to air his laundry, dirty or otherwise. He talks about childhood run-ins with pot, being shot on the same night as Bobby Kennedy, and other anecdotes of his family history. When I eventually got around to reading the biographical page, (I was engrossed in the blog) I learned that this was what the author intended it to be: a collection of memories to pass on to the next generation. This in and of itself makes the author likeable, and his tales more entertaining.

We feel genuine empathy for him. It isn't that his stories are extraordinary, in fact, it is the direct opposite. His stories have wide-ranging appeal, and he seems to have the Rumplestiltskin-like ability to spin gold out of everyday life. Come for the teddy bear, stay for the wealth beneath it.

In addition to the blog, which spans all of 2003 into 2004, we're given an extra rare to the blogging world: actual family photos. This makes perfect sense, given the Mr. Hernandez's admitted motivation in writing, however, they had volumes to the site's appeal.

The design leaves some to be desired, as is to be expected of most Blogspot blogs, but this isn't a flashy design sight. It's great value is solely in it's prose. My advice to Mr. Hernandez would be to switch the archives from weekly to monthly, so as to make the right-hand column more user-friendly. I also recommend adding a search feature, if possible, so an inclined reader could find each and every entry about Steve.

Overall, My Drivel is a great read. It sparkles with originality and comfort. The concept of memoirs-via-blog is an ambitious one, but here we see it executed with near flawlessness. With gentle, empathetic charm, it makes an excellent and unique daily read."

Now I have to admit that at a time like this (and always being a compliment whore) having someone say kind things like this is very nice. It's a much better compliment then Mark's comment about it being "grammatical hell" . (thanks buddy!)
Too any new readers...Boy did you pick an odd time to come aboard. I'm in a .......transitional phase right now. While this means my heart and soul and life are being torn to tiny shreds it also means that I'll soon be diving into a new writing frenzy. I was talking to a friend about what is happening in my life right now and he told me that GOD is probably doing it because I'm the only one who will be able to see the humor in it when it's all over. Mark of course will subscribe to the whole quarter theory. (Which in retrospect isn't all the insane right now.)
If you are a new reader and are actually curious about this blog (and because I'm to lazy to really right anything clever right now.) let me direct you to my blog from June. It's the best jumping on spot I know of. If like Mark your too lazy to actually go to the link on my archives I'll put one HERE. Please read those and also July's as well.
What does the future hold for this blog. Well once everything is settled here I'll get back to where ever the hell I was when all this started. (well started for me anyway) To anyone gleefully awaiting the juicy details of my divorce you may have to wait a while. For one this isn't a blog about current events (I need some perspective to give any story justice) and I don't really want to write about it while I'm still in the midst of it because my current feelings might distort it. So if I keep blogging at my current rate look for the full story sometime in 2012. Maybe 2013.
I still have a full and uncertain plate of events on my schedule next week. But I'm toying with the idea of letting Mark blog something about me, and also I plan on writing about my relationship with God. After that I think I'll be spending some time as a pillar of salt.
Again to the Weblog review thanks for the kind words. And if anyone from FOX TV is reading this, I see a sitcom with someone cute playing me and an ugly crosseyed boy beaten with a baseball bat daily playing Mark. As for who can play my Dad? I believe Saddam has some free time on his hands now.

My Precious


After I found out my wife was having an affair and planning to divorce me, it didn't seem right to keep wearing my ring. I took it off a couple nights later but couldn't decide where to put it. I have very fond memories of that ring (Especially the Christmas morning she gave it to me) and couldn't fathom the idea of throwing it away. It was very precious to me.
I looked around my house for a safe place to store it until I could figure out what to do with it. But no place seemed safe to put it. I didn't want it lost or misplaced.
I needed a place to put it where it could be safe and protected. I needed to find a guardian for it. Someone to keep it safe. Someone to safeguard it.
And there sitting on a shelf in the rear of my living room I saw the perfect place to put it. I saw someone who would guard it with his life. Anyway here's a picture of it for anyone who's interested.

Lessons

Ask anyone who knows me and they would tell you that I was very protective of my Mom. She was and always will symbolize what was best in my childhood. While I would jokingly refer to my Dad as Darth Vader, Mom was always compared to June Cleaver. She always made sure I was comforted when ill, or had cookies when I was good.
Yet I never related to her. She was my Mom and while I love her dearly, I really don't have a clue as to what makes her tick.
Which is funny because there were many times I couldn't stand my Dad. Yet I understood him all to well. Whenever I accomplished anything in my life it was Dad's attention or approval I was seeking the most. Whenever I won art ribbons in school it was Dad I desperately wanted to impress.
Perhaps it was the fact that I always had placed Mom on some pedestal of sainthood, while Dad was all too human. In my mind Mom never had to overcome any flaws. She was Mom and I didn't want her to change. (Well perhaps the criminal way she cooked Pork Chops woulda been ok.) Dad on the other hand was a man full of flaws.
Yet I took a strange comfort that he was a man who was constantly battling his inner demons. When he was hard on us I understood it was because he didn't want us to live the life he had led. My Dad and I were never friends yet I admire him more then anyone else for the gift he gave.
As I have wrote elsewhere Dad's gift to me was knowing that a person could overcome the mistakes and sins of his past and become a better person. My Dad's gift to me was redemption.
Now at the age of 39 I look at my life. I wonder what will be the gift I leave my children? What lesson can my kids learn from me? (Other then the value of a good insurance policy) I know whatever it will be it won't be anything planned.
I hope that it's a good lesson and not one where they say, "Don't want to end up like him." I hope it's something that gives them comfort in dark and sad hours. I hope it's one that's uplifting.
I'm thinking about this now for obvious reasons. This will be a crossroads for my children. Where it take anyone of us I do not know. For Ethan's and Isaac's sake whatever happens I must try to deal with it as well as possible.
Hopefully in that they'll find a lesson from me.



Sorry I haven't written as much lately. Hopefully I'll get back to a more or less regular schedule here soon.

MARY
How about some humor from me for a change?
In 1990 at the tender age of 25 I met and started dating a very nice classy lady named Mary, who was 14 years older then me. Mary was 39 years old and had been though 2 marriages.
At first everything between us was great. But soon her natural distrust towards men began to surface and she began to push me away. (It also didn't help when Mark went on a date with her oldest daughter. To be honest it kinda of crept me out that I was in a potential situtation where Mark might one day be a son-in-law.) It seemed all the crap that ex-husbands and boyfriends did were being laid at my feet. I felt it was very unfair.
Looking back on it it's plain my relationship with Mary was doomed to fail. Unfortunately being in the middle of it back then I had no such clarity. So when the time came when I should have walked away from it I didn't. Mary and I dated almost two years, a good year after we should have called it quits.
When the relationship ended I was working at a furniture store as a salesmen. For that Christmas I wanted to buy her a sofa.
Now let me speak of this sofa for a moment.
If GOD were a sofa he would have been this sofa. This was the most comfortable relaxing sofa I had ever set on. My number one selling item in the furniture store was this sofa. I pushed it like it was a drug. One day when Mary came back from running a triatholan she came to my store and set in the sofa and promptly fell asleep.
So for Christmas I knew I had to get the sofa for her. I saved up (Not so much as you might think. For working there I got all my stuff at cost. This was about a third of retail.) every dime I could.
Three days before Christmas I gave her the sofa as a gift. Two days before Christmas she dumped me. (Saved her a gift.)
I was devastated. I was heartbroken. My dreams were shattered.
I would never get to sit on that sofa.
Mary called me up after Christmas and asked if I had gotten the sofa Soil Shielded. (This normally cost an extra 50 dollars.) I hadn't yet, but since I'm a good person and had promised her I would, I said I would come over and do it. I asked for a time when she wouldn't be there. I wanted to avoid any unpleasant confrontations.
So the next day at 3 when Mary and her entire family was at her parents I came over with the big ten gallon sprayer we had of industrial strength Soil Shielder. In no time at all I had completely covered the GOD Sofa.
Now this is why a person who knew me probably would have made sure someone stayed there to watch me.
I noticed on the carpet a recent stain that was there. I pointed my sprayer at it and sprayed. I made sure that I sprayed enough shield on it that a fire wouldn't damage it. I went around and did the same to any other stain in the carpet. I even made a few kool-aid stains of my own and shielded them in.
Having plenty of SOIL SHIELD left I wandered down to her basement and sprayed all of her dirty clothes. Inside and out. I looked at my canister. hmmmm. Barely dented it. I walked up to her bedroom. There I sprayed all of her clean clothes. And bed sheets. And towels.
Every piece of fabric and linen and clothes that I could find that belonged to Mary I sprayed. When I left my ten gallon canister was empty.
It was only years later that I heard stories of water beading off of clothes taken out of the washer, or then running the rug cleaner over one spot in a failed effort to get rid of stains. Her son told me about one time he was walking in the rain and the rainwater just beaded off his pants.
My reply was,"Why were you wearing your Mom's pants?"
It seems in my haste I shielded clothes belonging to people other then Mary. To those of you I did that to I apologize.
What upset me the most was that when I heard all the stories later on, not one person in her family had the wit to suspect me. It seems that like most artists I want credit for my work.
I guarantee that most people who know me would have suspected me right away. Hell whenever odd things happen to people who know me the first thing they do is find out where I'm at.
The moral of the story? Clothes that have been 100% soil shielded have a lesser life span then normal.
Who would have thought?

Hey all. Since I'm still wallowing in my own self pity much a pig wallows in mud I'm letting Ethan write another blog. Please be kind. And for anyone who cares here's a link with some interesting reading. EverQuest Widows. Some interesting stuff there. Anyway please read Ethan's post with all the humor he intended you to find in it.

The first thing I remember of my life and more about my book!(By Ethan)

I'm writing another blog now.. Not much to write though.
The very,very,very,very,very,very,VERY, VERY, 1st thing I remember was like my death(to me.) Whew that's a lot to type. I remember my parents and I were going through our front door. I could already talk then. I then said " Watch me!"(I think I did). I jumped up the stairs like a frog and around the middle I went up(No I went down). When I hit the bottom I remember me crying and my parents rushing to me. Then everything went dark after I closed my eyes. I didn't hear or see them. After it went dark I opened my eyes and I was back home and everything was fine(not a dream). Until I was 8 or 7 I thought I was dead (those were the yrs. it was in my head) Even a thing where I spoke to ghosts (whatever I know it worked) told me I was dead. I figured out it was tricking me (I hope so)(not really)
Now my book. I really don't have much of it thought of but I'll tell you what I know of it. It is a fairy tale with some of my life. It will be long. There will be sequels and books that take place before it. I will write other books that are off the topic. It isn't like LORD OF THE RINGS so you can say I'm inventing new stuff in it. I will need some help with it (like drawing).It might be made into a movie(along with the others). Some of the people are based on living people(like me and you and my friends) and I know who will I will make I want to be a character(probably you). Don't tell this to anyone(like the news people) and don't tell about my high-school reading level(like the news people because I don't want to be interviewed again or I don't want anyone knocking down my door) but you can tell it to people who will no matter what they will not tell it.
The next thing I remembered(I think). Not to long after this I went into the downstairs closet and saw a GIANT SPIDER and I blacked out/fainted and no one came find me there (I think) but the spider would have ate me but my parents would have heard it then they would of killed it. I never saw that spider again(I hope he was fake.). When I woke up I was back home(I think). There are bits and pieces of my first memories left.


NEXT UP: HOW I GOT MY BEST FRIEND AND WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM(IT REALLY HAPPENED).