i have a ton to post about but i'm too pissed and tired to face it tonight. chapter two of the goddamn children's book.

Chapter Two: Spit Holds the World Together

My favorite place in the world is way up in my treehouse in our front yard. As you can imagine, the house is sometimes pretty noisy but the treehouse is always quiet and I can make noise of my own. The treehouse is where I keep my most prized posessions, including my “Fascist Rulers of the World Collectible Trading Cards,” a signed copy of Helter Skelter (which my grammy gave me last Christmas), and of course my long-haired Peruvian guinea pig.

My long-haired Peruvian guinea pig is called Sparky because of his propensity to chew on electrical cords. Mama says I should have named him “Lucky” instead and told me it might be best if he lived up in the treehouse where there are no live wires. Guniea pigs are strictly vegetarians which is nice because I hate vegetables. My mama says that Sparky and I have a symbiotic relationship, which means that it is mutually beneficial. I’m not sure which one of us is the tickbird and which one of us is the rhinoceros!

There is a pillow case hanging in the doorway to the treehouse that says in big, fat, black lettering: “NO BROTHERS ALLOWED!” and it looks like with the newest edition to our family I’m gonna have to add another line that says “NO SISTERS ALLOWED EITHER!” Pretty much the only person allowed in my treehouse, besides me, is Eliza.

Eliza is my best friend in the whole wide world. We got to be pals in the first grade when I was spinning in circles on the tire swing that hangs from a giant oak tree during recess. Eliza was sitting way high up in the branches practicing spitting, for who knows what reason. Well wouldn’t you know it, but one of those loogies lanned plop-dab in between my pigtails. When I looked up to see what variety of bird had pooped on me all I saw was Eliza scrambling down the trunk of that tree.

“Spit on me!” she said as she grabbed my hands and clutched them in hers.

“What?”

“Spit on me!

“Why?”

"Because I spit on you!"

So, I did. It was at that moment that I knew Eliza and I would be best friends for life. She has a sense about what is right and wrong in this silly world.

Now, Eliza and I are in the fourth grade at Daves Avenue Elementary School. We have never been in the same class until this year and our teacher, Mrs. Duff, says that if she has anything to say about it, we’ll never be in the same class again. We were allowed to sit next to each other for one week only, at which point she relagated us to different sides of the classroom.

Though Mrs. Duff may not display a great fondness for children, her love of animals is almost feverish and rivals mine. In our classroom, she keeps two doves (Beau and Peep, who coo incessantly during the day), a hamster (Jinx, who has an uncanny ability to digest anything we put into his cage, including erasers and paperclips), seven hermit crabs (nameless little critters, who do absolutely nothing of any interest to anyone but me), and a chinchilla (Sootsie, who requires fresh ashes every Monday).