You are 8 years old. Your school van brings you back home at 3:57 pm. You start sprinting towards home. Your backpack starts spanking your but cheeks, bouncing and jiggling all over the place like D-sizes as you run. You lean forward a little bit to counter gravity that is working in tandem along with your D-sized single large boob in desperate efforts to bring you down. You rush past the guardian of your street, the chaser of crows, your arch-nemesis….the dog that hasn’t evolved from greyscale televisions. You have successfully outrun 2 bitches but you know very well what lies ahead, the gargantuan task of climbing 38 steps evenly stacked down 2 floors of the doomsday corridor. You are Edmund Hillary, you are Amelia Earhart, you are fucking Neil Armstrong. You are also a pathetic 8-year-old with a serious mental disability that statutorily makes you leap 2 steps at a time. You go.. 0..2..4..6..8……....9!!!!....faaaaakkkkkkk…… You hated steps that did not let you attain your orgasm at the end of your bunny hops, they just had to be odd-numbered steps. You are 1/4th there. You drift around the corner of the staircase. You come to a momentary halt, your boob doesn’t….it keeps going wheeeeee…. You come to realise all the laws of physics acting against you but only you are a retarted son of a bitch that can’t spell physics. You carefully calculate your next hops. 0..1..3..5..7..9……….10!!!!.... You just want to die at this point. You feel like you are stuck in Hogwarts and their stupid moving staircases. You are tired. You don’t even care for orgasms anymore. You walk up the stairs, reach your home, ring the bell, you hear your mother on the other side dangling with the keys on the lock. You are rejuvenated, impatient and the adrenaline kicks in once again. You duck under your mother’s arms and run inside. You unstrap your metaphorical boob and throw it on the floor like you won’t be begging for it in 10 years. You loosen the belt that held your shame intact by not failing you and your oversized trousers that your mother got specifically made to last 2 more years. You hop on the couch, pick up the remote and while turning on the boxed TV, you glance at the clock…….4:01 pm. You hit 49 on the remote and you hear the intro song of Power Rangers Mystic Force.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........feels good man.