Thursday, December 01, 2005
Light My Fire
As mentioned before, I attract the nutcases like a magnet to a refrigerator. I suppose this attraction started when I was a child, but it became full blown in high school.
There was a boy in high school named Duncan. For some reason, I would silently call him Duncan Hines Cookies in my head, but would never say it out loud because this guy was crazy.
I had several classes with him and I would always catch him glaring at me. His glare would instantly turn into a huge smile. I didn't trust him.
One day, in biology class, he said, "Hey, my mom is white too, just like you. So we're both black and white, like zebras." He then proceeded to get on his hands and knees and paw around like a zebra on the Sahara. "I gotta go," I said, grabbing my backpack.
We were allowed to have lunch off campus at my high school. It was one day of dining out that Duncan's insanity towards me became full blown.
I walked the two blocks to a fast food restaurant with my friend. We reached our destination and stood in line, waiting to order our food. I turned around and Duncan was standing close behind me. I didn't say anything to him, because he was, well crazy.
I think it was the smoke I saw first, or maybe it was the smell of burning hair. Either way, my friend was soon screaming and throwing her bottle of water on my head. "What??!! What is it??!!" I asked terrified. "He set your hair on fire!" my friend screamed. "Who? Duncan?" "Yes," my friend said patting my hair quickly.
I chased after him up Lincoln Boulevard, screaming "Duncan!!! I'm going to kill you!!!" Somehow, he got away.
The next day I saw Duncan at school, sitting quietly in his seat with his hands folded in front of him. I glared at him and sat down, waiting for class to end so that I could corner him. As soon as the bell rang, he disappeared out of the door.
Years later, Duncan knocked on my front door. "Hey, I was just in the neighborhood," he said. "You want to hang out?"
I walked outside with him, and we walked up the alley a few blocks from my house. Duncan told me a lot that day; about his absent father, his mother who didn't understand him, failing school, and his drug addiction.
"Do you forgive me, you know, for that little fire thing?" he asked. "Yeah," I said. "I forgive you." He walked me back to my door, and I said good-bye.
I never saw Duncan again. Maybe he became a fire fighter. Either that, or a zoo keeper, responsible for the zebras.
Posted by Jaimie ::
7:41 PM ::
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