Rubber Band Fight


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As you turn thirteen, the acceleration of hormone production in your body makes you feel strong. It's a refreshing feeling that you have never had before. You feel like an . . . adult. With this new found awareness, you think venturing on your own a little bit, out of the street that you live on would prove that you are no longer a kid. It's a bright sunny peaceful day after all.

So there you go, walking to the corner house on the street, passing the fire hydrant on the way, and round the corner. You see fresh sets of houses. They look familiar as you have seen them before while riding through the neighborhood in your parents' SUV. But they look different today as you walk on your own two legs.

You make many more steps onto this next street. There are houses, cars, trees, bushes. Pretty much like the street you've lived on your entire life. But something not quite right. There is no sound. No bird chirp. No leaf rustling. No talking. There is nobody. You look down the middle of the street, which reminds you of a western movie, where the breeze is the only thing talking. You half expected a tumbling weed to skip across the street.

Then, all of a sudden, a rustling sound came from the bushes on the left. You turned to look, only to hear a "snap" and a "smack" on your face that made you agonize with both hands over your watery eyes. You can't help it, but you know you are the only one wailing on this very quiet street. You swipe as much water out of your eyes as you can. There is a lone red rubber band at your feet. And hearing yourself whimper at age thirteen turns your face red with anger and embarrassment. So you turn around to run back home.

Doing some thinking back home, you realized that you don't feel much like an adult by running home and crying to mommy all the time. So there is only one way to proof that you are stronger, maturer, and more an adult than any other kids in the neighborhood. You are going to set-up a training camp, load up on rubber bands, and build an artillery station. You are going to go on the street and dish out smack and be king of the neighborhood. That will show them.

Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.

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