To be honest I really feel bad for this kid. He lives with just his father because his mother left his dad, his father is kinda crazy (taught a 4th grader how to roll up a blunt), his father seems a little bit like a deadbeat, and to top it off, this stupid same dad has the swell idea of dressing his kid up like Hitler. That just seems so irresponsible on the part of a parent to get their kid into hot water by playing a "joke" on them for their own amusement. The kid in this story really seems like a good person, he has friends, he doesn't seem like that stupid of a person, and he really seems like a victim of circumstance. But besides those components of the protagonist's personal life I think this was a pretty good story. I really didn't like how much of a jerk the dad was though, but enough with him, he's good for taking care of his son especially when the mother seems to want out of the picture. Do you know who I dislike in this story? That's right the Lisette kid, what a little sh*t, I don't care if the main character is dressed as Hitler for Halloween because the father thought it would be funny, or that Lisette is dressed as Anne Frank because that little girl is a bully. I've met people like her as a 4th grader, and one thing I can say is that it is not fun to be their victim. I thought that the whole story was amazing, especially when he's in the haunted house with the pseudo-hooker, although I don't know if shrugging was the best thing he could have done. At the end when the kid went trick-or-treating I thought that the father could have done a better job of cheering him up, considering the tough day he'd had, but he didn't really do it that well, and I think that was a big no-no in the parenting business. What was most surprising about this story was the end, because the protagonist stuck his hand into a fire to see how much it hurts, and that doesn't sound something a 4th grader would do. To sum it, I loved the story telling loved the story, (even if it was a little weird) and am happy to have read this story; it was really good.
A story from my childhood
Once when I was three I tried going to the toilet for the first time, but because my behind was a little bit small for the seat I feel in. Now a normal three-year-old would have called for his mom because:
a) he was scared of being in potential "danger" and usually would have let out a blood curdling scream for his mother
or b) been able to form basic word to signal his parents
but the problem with me was that it wasn't till I was four or five that I was able to talk and form complete sentences, as well as makes sounds other than crying; and that because I didn't feel any immediate danger being trapped under a toilet seat in a toilet bowl, I contently sat there and awaited my parents rescue. But as an energetic three-year-old, sitting down when Arthur wasn't on was hard, so in an attempt to escape, I started tugging on the wide-white rope to the left of me, hoping to escape from the toilet bowl. But as I found out to my despair, the white rope no matter how much I tugged it could not support my muscular three-year-old body. I believe that I had waited in that toilet bowl for thirty minutes, trying to pull my way out with the rope, when my grandmother, who was wondering where I had gone came into the bathroom and saw me trapped in that white valley of doom. Immediately she pulled me out to safety, and to her despair pulled all the white from that I had used in an attempt to escape from the dirty bottom of the toilet seat and into the trashcan. Had my grandmother forgotten me, and had simply been going to the bathroom, I may have been in deep doo-doo, literally; but thanks to her actions, I possible death sentence turned into a mere thirty minute bath, and I am still here to tell the tale
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