I remember sitting at a small wooden desk, four paired up at a time in elementary school. And the teacher stood at the front of the room and told you that a proper story abides by the rules- beginning, middle, conflict, resolution, end. If I had known the word bullshit back then, I think I would've had duck tape plastered over my mouth and been sent to a disciplinary official.

Maybe I would've still been the meek child beaten into a curious submission, and wouldn't have said bullshit because it was a curse word. But I knew that life isn't that simple. Children are ripe, and not as stupid as the grown populous teaches us to be. I could have been brilliant, and I taught myself the majority of what I know- from observation. Beaten into submission, to follow rules, stand in line, be orderly, think and express within the acceptable confines of society... I knew that this story had already happened. The end is first, and the entire tale unfolds before your eyes. The resolution's already happened. So this is my story, a few times removed and relayed.