please accept my deepest apologies i didn't try to break your window but mr. wistrom, if its any consolation the ball went really slow this stupid explanation didn't satisfy him and mr. wistrom was extremely irate i was all alone here the other ball players had jumped the gate so he knew my mother and he took me to see her he ranted and he raved i begged god to be saved and then my mother sighed pinched the bridge of her nose and said who were you playing with this time? the winslows? those bad-ass boys why don't you stop? who else was playing? to this day i don't know why i wasn't saying mr.wistrom left, saying he would talk to those boys and while my brother laughed, she could definantly see so she took me to the back of the house and whipped the living tar out of me.
Reason for writing:
when i was nine years old-before i really knew how to play baseball- i hit my first home run through old mr.wistrom's window. this is as it happened. i stopped being friends with the winslows-their names have been changed because they might read this. i made up with mr.wistrom, but i havent seen him since i was 11.
Birth sign: Aries
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