In every 5th grade class, there’s a Mandy Motts. She’s the girl that is from a less fortunate family that wasn’t able to provide the care and direction every young girl needs. In “I’m not trying to be sensitive speak” she’s the fat, ugly girl who came from inbreed parents and has urine breath leaking between her mangled teeth. She’s the butt of all jokes, the girl with no future and the one person you pray you’re not forced to sit next to.

My elementary school was too small to have a basketball court, a place to play kick-ball or even swings. We had nothing more than a giant tire to play on. I mean, sure, it ws fun, but after the first minute or so, it lost its charm. As a natural trouble maker, I began to find entertainment in the art of rumor starting. My rumors, however, didn’t spread through the school yard as I would have liked. Most people rolled their eyes when I told them that our teacher had paid me $4 to set her car on fire and people called me a liar when I said our principal, Mr. Dunstill, had caused the Vietnam war.

I started to get fed up with people’s lack of a reaction. I was so desperate to get a reaction I decided to start a rumor that was a bit more personal. I decided to tell people that Chuck Tabor liked Mandy Motts. Who was Chuck Tabor? He was the quiet kid who had reached the 5th grade only because teachers got tired of holding him back. No one knew how old he was, but his 5 o’clock shadow always amazed us.

As I was planning my next rumor to spread (something having to do with the lunch lady’s plan to feed us urinal cakes) Chuck came storming towards me. I didn’t bother to figure out what was on Chuck’s mind so I started running. He chased. I kept running.

Well, jogging really. See, Chuck wasn’t what you would call an athlete. He chased me at a speed that would make a Segway look like lightning, but he refused to give up no matter how far ahead of him I got. After circling the play area for the 30th time, I began to wonder if this chase was ever going to end.

Then, in a pure moment of inspiration, my brain sent me a plan:

- Listen, Patrick, you could keep running forever, but this man has the determination of a hooker. He’s gonna get you at some point. Plant yourself in front of the recess monitor, let him push you on the ground and get the oaf in trouble so fast he won’t have a chance to do any more damage.

I accepted this plan from my brain and posed in front of the recess monitor as if I were a Roman emperor ready to address the Senate. I felt powerful, I felt proud and when Chuck approached, I felt his foot pummel my testicals.

I collapsed to the ground before the pain really hit me, but man did it pull into the station with a might force. I tried to scream in agony, but the only thing that leaked out was a quiet whimper.

The recess monitor grabbed both Chuck and me by our elbows and dragged us to the principals office. Apparently getting severely assaulted in the balls was a reason to get in trouble.

My little (pronounced ‘whiddle’) testicals were in such pain, I didn’t even bother trying to get out of trouble. I confessed to starting the rumor. I confessed to being cruel for my own entertainment. My punishment was to apologize to Chuck and to Mandy. Chuck accepted my apology. Mandy, however, after having me explain why it was I started the rumor, was angry and exacted her revenge by kicking me in my balls. For the second time in an hour, I collapsed on the ground and whimpered through silent screams.

If I were to say I learned a lesson, I’m sure it wouldn’t be the right one. For what I went through, in the end, it wasn’t worth it. Almost twenty years later, Chuck and Mandy got married. Sometimes I imagine them growing old and telling the story of how their romance started way back in the 5th grade over a little brat’s recess rumor. Sometimes I imagine showing up at their house and drop kicking them both in the crotch to settle the score. Either way, I’m wearing steel toed boots whenever I go back to Vermont.