They don’t get me. Oh, it’s OK. You don’t have to pretend. I know they don’t. I’m different. Not good or bad or anything else. Just different. The part I can’t figure out is why that’s not OK. I mean, who came down from heaven and decreed that everyone has to be the same? Sort of like white bread bologna sandwiches with mayo? Not that I have anything against bologna. I like to eat it sometimes, but not as a steady diet.
See, I’ve got this imagination. And it’s cool, at least to me it is. I dream of being a super powered alien from the planet Karpagien who’s come to earth to warn the people of imminent annihilation by the great god of fire who’s about to rain down his wrath with a vengeance greater than the power of a thousand nuclear bombs! Sometimes I’m the archenemy of the evil prince of the Parkaziodian tribe whose power is so great he can pulverize an entire nation of people with a single glance. But if they stand behind me, I can protect them with my magical shield of Zorgod, passed down to me by generations of great warriors of the light…..
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- Written by: Joyce Storey