Thursday, August 9, 2007

~Rah, Rah, Har, Har! by Cynthia~



My mother was a cheerleader. She wanted me to be one because I was shy. Now I'm bending over as I support two people on my back. If I make the wrong move, the girls on top of me fall. It's too much responsibility. Actually, right now, the thought of them tumbling down doesn't seem so bad.

How does this help me?

Now I have to laugh with girls I don't care about, and giggle at the idiotic jokes the jocks make.

Help me. Get me out of here.

Mom, this isn't fair.

***Management Notice: Thank You Cynthia! You are the first winner of Raincoat Flashers. Thanks for playing. Let's talk bio and title next week?***

7 comments:

Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein said...

Here's my entry:

"The Beaver That Broke My Back"

I can forgive anyone for gaining a few pounds over the summer, but when that overweight cheercow Jennifer Haynes stepped on my back that day in cheerleader practice, I swear I heard something pop.

My back has never been the same since that day. And the worst part is she lost all that summer weight while I got hoooked on pain killers.

Being a cheerleader sucks.

Cynthia said...

My mother was a cheerleader. She wanted me to be one because I was shy. Now I'm bending over as I support two people on my back. If I make the wrong move, the girls on top of me fall. It's too much responsibility. Actually, right now, the thought of them tumbling down doesn't seem so bad.

How does this help me?

Now I have to laugh with girls I don't care about, and giggle at the idiotic jokes the jocks make.

Help me. Get me out of here.

Mom, this isn't fair.

Rion said...

Thanks for playing Dr. Von Monkerstein and Cynthia!

Winning entry will be chosen Friday :-)

FranIAm said...

Bravo Dr. MVM and Cynthia, beautiful Cynthia! (she is my friend and new to blogging, but not to writing!)

You two encourage me... as Rion does as well.

Rion said...

The scents of tea rose and Noxema become my intoxicants, on you. On this hot day, there's an even hotter hour. For this minute, I'm crammed into this godforsaken woolen sweater and suffering partial blindness from the sun like the bolt from a flashbulb. Yet I'm happy. Its all you you you. My shoulders support you. And I'm sick. Lick my lips. And I know. And you can never know.

After practice, we'll go get a Coke. And I'll sweat. And you'll laugh without a care as I carry home your books. But I'll never tell you why I sometimes burst into tears. Why should I? You're skipping with the angels. I'm the one that's damned.

FranIAm said...

Oh Rion- you're good, really good!

I love this! And I hope Cynthia comes back, I want to encourage her writing!

And you too Dr. Monkey, you too!!

Cynthia said...

Rion,

Wow! I won? Thanks!

Your blog is fantastic. It gets me to write something, and I get to read the writing of others. You are a tremendous, inspiring writer.

Special thanks to Fran for getting me here.