Member-only story
The Spelling Bee
A perpetrator’s mid-life atonement (poem)
We were tiny spelling bees talking to imaginary tart breathed friends with pizza mouth
I did not like y’all.
So when my friendship club pack hit the mail along with a Highlights magazine that said “Share with friends”
I made y’all write about honey bees to prove your worth — to prove
you like me.
You want this friendship bracelet so bad? This cute pencil? A charm that dangles
with bits of color?
I walked in with Lisa Frank stickers, your eyes wide as a frog’s and
I Hate You So Much Right Now
(thank you Kelis for your words), spells of hatred I cast upon these rich “friends” of mine.
I took 3rd place for spelling “Crotchety” wrong.
Still.
Y’all pool parties and two parent homes made me see red as I nested with
pestilence in the form of
roaches and spiders. “How can we be down in your club?” y’all ask. You little snots don’t know you
have to buy me stuff: erasers, notebook papers, book fair books
Give up your lunch money.
And like a honey bee, drain each flower in this class. We were the original
beehive, Beyonce.
Write 100 words for atonement, where’s that bee paper…
