Monday, November 17, 2008

"Cooties Are Real"


Once, when I was walking down the street, I heard a strange young voice cry out to me.

“Cooties are real.”

I stopped and turned. I was standing by a schoolyard during recess.

A young girl, maybe nine or ten, stared at me through the fence. Her eyes had the fixed gaze of someone offering a somber and life-changing warning.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Cooties are real.”

She repeated her intonation in the hushed whisper of revealing a tragic, yet important, well guarded secret.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Which cooties? And how did she know they were real?

Then the girl handed me a small, folded picture, through the black chain-link fence. As soon as I had it in my grasp, she turned to run off and play with the other children.

I turned over the folded picture and opened it.

It was these two beachgoing choadwanks, and their Bleethed out ladies.

It was true. The girl was right. I had to spread the word.

Cooties are real.

# posted by douchebag1

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