"Does your child eat enough," yelled the absurdly large lady at the front. As much as she yells, I'm not sure how she hasn't had an brain contusion. Not from all the yelling, but from the millions of things that are thrown at her head. I saw at least ten paper balls whiz by my head; the air being cut by paper, isn't that ironic. The absurdly large lady is now yelling about my child's future in crime. Where does she come from? We live in a nice suburb and the first big corporation moved in next door: Wal-Mart.
I looked at my hand and noticed something. My hand was becoming wrapped up into a fist. Was I angry at this woman? I decided to try to take deep breaths to calm down, but what ensued next can only be described as chaos. I threw myself onto the stage and started singing "The Final Countdown." I was ready to take on this absurdly large lady who was now talking about guns in school. As I got to the guitar solo in the song, I took a swing and missed. She ducked out of the way. I tried to swing once more with a right hook, but missed. She ducked out of the way again. This lady was putting on a show for the parents. Not only with her absurdly large body and terrible preaching methods, but with her fancy feet that made her look like Mike Tyson in his prime.
I'll go have a seat now.
I'm not sure how I thought about this prose poem. Part of it could be from the little news I hear. The other could be since I'm not a fan of my old hometown since it has grown so much. I wish my hometown stayed small.
I hope you enjoy!