Where is my “Sir”?

I am a Sir.

Call me Sir.

Shut up. Shut up I’m talking.

I am X years old. I am Y times your age- we are in no way age mates.

Do not tell me “Good Morning”, tell me “Good Morning Sir”-  that Sir is imperative. Non-negotiable.

Shut up. Shut up, I’m talking. Do not attempt to interrupt me. No “buts”.

I am a Sir. Call me Sir.

Silly boy. Born last night, yet has the guts to pay me a greeting without appending my Sir.

Nonsense.

Or what am I supposed to do to make my Sir-status obvious to you?

Scrawl my age on my forehead?

Tattoo my year of birth across my chest?

Re-depict my age as a composite of prime numbers and then sing them out to you?

Nonsense. Rubbish.

I have my own Sirs too. The people I cannot dare to address without their own “Sir”.

You, are my boy. My own boy. The prestige I afford my own taskmasters, you afford me too.

Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes, that is exactly how it is going to be.

Now, where is my “Sir”?


PS: I feel slightly rusty.

I Want to Draw a Line from Point A to Point B.

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

Hm let’s see, where’s my ruler- the one mummy bought for me. And my pencil- ah, aha. There it is.

I had to jump and shout and beg for mummy to buy the pencil I wanted- Spiderman pencil. Everybody has a Spiderman pencil- me too I want one.

My friends are saying the pencil I have is fake Spiderman- cheap Spiderman, but me I don’t care. They should go and eat their real Spiderman.

Spiderman is spiderman.

Okay. So our Maths teacher said you do it like this …..

 


 

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

Okay let’s do this.

Ah yeah that´s true- last week I figured out a new way to draw lines. There’s a way you can handle your pencil so that even if the points you are following are not exactly in a straight line, nobody is going to know.

Hmm. Haha. Our teacher is soo never going to notice. Haha.

 


 

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

I like Toyin. I really like her.

I just don’t know what to do. What do you do when you like a girl? I don’t know.

Benedict said you give them eye contact. And everybody says Benedict is good with girls. Okay then. Eye contact it is then. Eye contact it is.

Hm where’s my pencil.

 


 

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

Or you know what, no.

No no no, I do not want to draw a line. I want to go outside and play.

I want to go outside and play, I do not want to draw any lines today.

 


 

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

Wait why are we even drawing these lines, why?

What are we drawing them for?

Because of what? That what may happen?

 


 

I want to draw a line from point A to point B.

Wait. Wait wait wait, there’s a problem.

I went out yesterday to buy a pencil.

For the first time in my life, it dawned on me that everyone in my class has so much more money than me- like so fucking much.

I have no money. My father has nothing.

My deskmate’s father has so much money- like so much fucking money.

Lie what the fuck. My entire life up until this point has been me living in a big wobbly bubble of oblivion to these things.

Fuck, no wonder my life has been so difficult, no wonder my life has been so fucking difficult.

I had always suspected that life was not as difficult for these my classmates- I had always fucking suspected.

Wait.

Wait wait wait, what line am I drawing, what fucking line am I drawing?

Why is life so much easier for some, than others?

Why do some people have so much money, and others have nothing?

And why do the children of these people- these innocent entities, have to bear the brunt of whatever social or eceonomic phenomenon happens to be responsible for the existence of said inequality?

Ah, fuck this shit.

Like seriously. Fuck this shit.

What fucking line am I drawing- what fucking line.

The line I want to draw now, is the one that starts from here and reaches, relentlessly, for placating understanding.

I want to draw a line that means something- I want to draw a substantial line- I want to draw a line that has some implication- some sort of effect, whatever effect it is, on whatever amorphous adversarial powers happen to be behind all of this nonsense.

I need to break my pencil. Like I need to shatter it. Like fucking shatter shatter shatter, it.

What pencil. Look at all of the things that are wrong with the world and you’re talking to me about a pencil.

What pencil. What fucking pencil.


 

I want to draw a line from Point A to Point B.