Alone In the Dungeon

Alone in the dungeon, I am furious with the them’s, the they’s, the experts, the teacher, my cousin, the snitch, my classmates, and especially my parents for they are the ones who ruined things for me. If they had left me alone, not tormented me, not called me, not texted me, not lured me into talking back to my parents, if they had simply let me be, I would be outside playing second base. I would have grown up to be fantastic, terrific, stunningly successful, powerfully respected, but all hope for that kind of life is gone now. And so is the sun, which means I have been in this dungeon for at least two hours without my tablet, or my computer, or my I-pad or TV set or anything fun to do. But no. They could not leave me alone. They had to bug me. Learn your math facts, eat your fruit, do not hang from the top of the slide and kick your feet over your cousin’s head. So here I sit, grounded, and mad, and disappointed. When was the last time I cried? I feel the tears come, and I hate them all a bit more. All of those snitches, especially that teacher snitch. I can hear my friend John outside, yelling bye to my other friends. I struggle to hear the other’s voices, but they are not heard. I bet they got stupid Roger to play second base, and that really makes me mad. I am so danged angry at my parents and that snitch teacher, and my snitch cousin, who should have backed me up, but did not, and everybody else who put me here in this dungeon. I am furious. FURIOUS! I lie on my bunk and toss my baseball up toward the ceiling, catch it, toss it again. It does not help. I am still mad as all get out with no inkling whatsoever that I am the only one who holds the key to unlocking the dungeon door.