Story

Prologue

'You had a bad day. You're taking one down. You sing a sad song just to turn it around. You say you don't know. You tell me don't lie.' SLAM! 'You work at a smile and you go for a ride. You had a bad day. The camera don't lie.' SLAM! 'You're coming SLAM! back down SLAM! and you don't SLAM SLAM SLAM! really mind.' SLAM! CRASH! "OWWW! Dang it!" "Selena! What's wrong!" "Sorry mom, I think I need a new alarm clock." "Oh not again."

This is a typical morning at my house. The Pane house. Or as I like to call it, the House of Pain. I have no idea what my great-great-great-great-great grandfather was thinking when decided to have our last name be 'Pane.' I don't deserve this name! No one really does. Well, maybe my sister does, because she sure is a pane in the butt! Seriously, if it were up to me, I would name her 'Bad." Then she could be 'Bad Pane' It makes perfect sense. In fact, I think everyone should be named after their personality and looks. I would be called, 'Kind Pretty.' Mom would be 'Nagging Monster' and dad would be 'Control Freak.' My teacher's name would be 'Monkey Butt.' Then Christopher Barwin, the smelliest guy in our whole school – and I think WHOLE UNIVERSE – should be called 'Smelly Loser.' See? Perfectly respectable names that show the person's personality.

I sure wish everything was that easy. For example, the waffle I'm eating right now. It tastes like plastic, and you know why? Because it IS plastic! It even says so in fine print on the side of the waffle box. There in size 3 print it clearly states, 'This product is made using ingredients from recycled plastic.' If only my mother read fine print. She really should follow my rules. My number 1 rule is to always read fine print. Or else you can get ripped off really easily. Like those Tic-tac's? Those orange oval candies they sell at every store? 10 calories per serving. Not much right? In fine print it says that one serving is half a Tic-tac! Are you kidding me? Half a Tic-tac? What. The. Heck. I'll bet anything that's how Monkey Butt (my teacher) got so fat.

I hate Monkey Butt, she gave me detention for farting when she was speaking. It's a normal bodily function, she can't blame me for that! I'll sue her. My dad's a lawyer. But this story is not about her sad, lonely life. It's about me, a regular kid, and a not-so-regular kid named Richard. My story starts in a school, my school, called Lemon Drop Elementary School.