171 - Sitting Bully


The lavender Voit ball with the multi-color hearts on it strikes you on the side of the face. Your heart sinks deep into your stomach.

Your older brother, the newly crowned chieftan of your tribe, approaches you; a solemn yet dutiful look hangs upon his late teenaged face.

“You have been struck with the Foofy Ball,” he says to you loudly enough for the spectators in the bleachers overlooking the dodgeball pit to hear. “Dances-with-Books,” he continues, addressing you by your formal tribal name, “You are exiled from this tribe.” There is an air of finality in his voice, but he also seems to be on the verge of laughter.

“What?” you shriek in disbelief. “On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that only a pussy would get hit with the Foofy Ball,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t want any pussies in my tribe, pussy. Get going.”

“This is bullshit. This would never have happened if dad was still chief.”

“Dad’s dead, you little nerd, and I’m in charge. Now carry your pussy ass out of my village or I’ll put your head up on a spear by the gate with the rest of the dorks.”

“You’re such a jerk, Shannon.” You stick your tongue out at him.

Your brother hears you call him Shannon and looks as if he has been slapped. “My name is Lays-with-Many-Girls and you will address me as such!” he screams.

“Nuh-uh,” you shoot back while thumbing your nose at him, “Mom named you Shannon because she wanted a girl!”

Shannon is furious. “I’ll have your head for this! Guards, seize him!” he shouts.

Two warriors armed with spears race towards you. You run out of the village. They continue to pursue you past the gates of the village. While you run past the opening in the wooden fence, you see the head of your friend, Eats-Many-Cakes, on the tip of a spear.

Worth it.