Mom, I will be fine. As a person of the age of 5, I believe I am more than capable of making it on my own on the rough and tumble streets. I have watched many an episode of Sesame Street and I have learned to find joy in the act of reading via Reading Rainbow; and I have also learned how to defend myself though the hyper-violence of cartoons, for instance, if I were, say, being chased by the wiliest of coyotes I would be able to escape his wrath by dodging out of the way of a wall that has a large black hole painted on it, for it is not a tunnel, but rather, simply paint on a wall. I would dodge it, he would hit it – see, I can survive…which is something I cannot say I will do if I continue to live under your tyrannical rule.
Your implementation of this fascist bed time rule has driven me beyond the boiling point, not to mention your strict stance on the consumption of broccoli at dinner time. Bed time should be a subject left solely to me, for only I truly know when I am sleepy, and I can assure you that it is most certainly not just before a new episode of Wizards of Waverly Place has aired. And as for broccoli, well, madam, you’re just lucky I haven’t dialed 9-1-1 myself and requested you to be taken away and locked in a padded cell for the duration of your existence. I feel I may never be able to forgive you for thrusting the grave injustice that is broccoli in to my mouth not one-hour ago.
Yes, you are correct in thinking that there is much I still have not learned about the world, and that I will not be able to handle the harsh truths about said world that you have so callously shielded me from in an attempt to “protect” me. But I’ve read a number of the Goosebumps books, and I’m pretty sure nothing in this world is more traumatizing than that. But there are some other things, I admit, I will need to learn. While I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how to feed myself, I know, for a fact, that every building in the world contains a person that is willing to cut a guy some slack and cut his food for him because he is afraid of knives, as evidenced by my journeys to the houses of friends. But beyond that, I will learn to do my own taxes, which shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as that math test on the refrigerator features a bright red B+ on top. Even further beyond that, I will teach myself the language of the hobos, and persuade them to allow me to settle beside them as we ride the rails throughout this great land. If you fear I will miss you, I can assure you that I will not, as I plan to learn the hobo phrase for “excuse me, fare hobo, but I have ceased with the defecation, and am now in need of wiping assistance.” Once the knowledge of this phrase as soaked in to my mind, I will finally be rid of the shackles you have bound me with.
So, here I go. I have my M. Night Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender book bag packed with every item I will need on my adventure of independence, including my blanky and my Speak-n-Spell, which will aide me in the identification of the world’s various forms of wild fauna. I have packed an extra pair of underwear, and I have also packed a Fruit Roll Up to sustain me. So…here I go. I’m going out the door.
I am out of the door, mother. Within only a few more steps I will free of your iron-fisted rule…only a few more steps…like the ones I am mentally preparing myself to take in a minute.
I am nearing the front gate, which is just, you know, just some information for you. I just thought you’d like an update on my status.
I have opened the gate and I can taste the freedom now. I’d sure like you to taste the freedom with me, but that would require you to watch over me, like Big Brother. But, I mean, if you want to come over here and taste the freedom with me I would not object.
I am beyond the gate and…and…I am terrified. Where am I? None of this looks familiar! Where’s my X-Box?! I can’t find my X-Box! Mom! Mom! MOOOOOOOOOOOM! I believe there to be monsters out where!! Curse this Speak-n-Spell for not informing on me to the various demon spawn that may or may not actually be roaming the night!!
Fine! Yes, I will go with you back in to the house – back in to the gulag. But I will not go peacefully. I will not go quietly. I will not – shall not – go without a fight.
Yes, I will go to my room and think about what I have done.