Memories of a Kick Ball Legend

For several years, kick ball was my favorite sport.

I would sit in class in cold sweats, thinking only of two things;

How I was going to hide my boner in the case that I was called upon to stand and read, and kicking the shit out of that red rubber ball.

I  lived for kicking the shit out of that ball, I tell you.

Every time the mother fucker was rolled toward home plate, I would set into about a 14 step sprint until the point of foot-to-ball surface contact.

That fucking ball would fucking fly and be airborne for about a minute plus.

I was good. I was real good.

I was the kick ball god.

Eventually the thrill of it faded though, as I continually launched that rubber sphere into oblivion.

Oblivion being the backyard of the people who lived on the other side of the fence from school property.

With out fail, I punted that bitch sky high and would have to send another bitch, Aaron Price, to go fetch it.

He would have to go through the hole in the fence and he'd almost always get stuck either on the way in or out. He was helpless and abused by his father and just about everybody else. This always provided good amusement after my victory lap around the bases.