By Doug “Uncola” Lynn via TheBurningPlatform.com
When I was in second grade, my class took a field trip whereby we walked through a cemetery and the county fairgrounds. We were strongly advised not to throw rocks by our gym instructor who was assisting our teacher on the trip. He was a large muscular man and had a Swedish-sounding name. He said to us kids: “Don’t even THINK about throwing any rocks! If any of you do, you will be in big, big, BIG trouble!”
Well, he should have never given me the idea. Because while walking through the fairgrounds, there were so many metal roofs on the buildings. So I picked up a round heavy stone and lobbed it as high as I could before it landed on what sounded like a giant cymbal.
“Who did that?!” screamed the teachers as over 20 tiny fingers pointed my way. The big gym teacher suddenly loomed over me, blocking out the sun. “Why did you do that?!” he asked me in a loud voice.
Of course, I had no answer for him other than “I don’t know” which I stated simply while squinting up at him. But I remember the feeling very well. Today, it would be summarized as: “Because, F*CK you, that’s why”.
Thus began my life of crime.
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