I fidgeted in my seat. We were just about to get back the grades of our first creative writing assignment. The topic was "If I was another person I'd be. because." not exactly my ideal topic but I worked with it. Mr. Errol my English teacher said "uh Moonbeam come see me after class" WHAT? Was my paper so bad that he had to tell me to redo it? Or was it so good that he was sending it to his friend Steve, the publisher( I just made that part up maybe Mr. Errol doesn't have any friends called Steve) Boy I sure hoped he did.

If Mr. Errol were a colour he would be brown. Dull blah meh what have you. The final bell rang. I went to Mr. Brown's desk "Moonbeam I was very interested by your story" INTERRESTED??????!!!??? What the hell was that supposed to mean? "You've got the right stuff to be a writer you just need a topic that interests you" Well whose fault is that you boring slimy stupid. "Thank you sir, see you tomorrow"

When I got home Mother or "Wisdom Pearl" as she insists I call her was meditating and chanting some gibberish so just to see if she had noticed me I called out "Greeting o Nutty one" she hadn't but after my remark I decided to go do my homework.

My name is Moonbeam. I was born on June 21 .The summer solstice. The day my parents gravitate around. Therefore in their crazy peebrains I must be some sort of sign. My parents or the "parental unit" as I like to call them are about a trillion years old and completely and utterly nuts. Now one might say well that is just because I am 13 and to every 13 year old their parents are nuts right? Wrong-o! My parents for instance do not have normal jobs is tarot card reader and my father is a guitar player in some pathetic band called "THE" that's it "THE" not "THE ." no just "THE" MY parents are not the simple exaggeration of a 13 year old. This is my reality: my name is Moonbeam and my parents are crazy. How does one person's life get worse?