“Hey, fat kid!” A boy with tummy twice my size said as he pulled my ears. “Gimme your muffin. You’re too fat eat it.”
That big fat, fatty.
Sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I’m a 6 year old boy. I live in a house with lots of other kids. They don’t have parents, like me. My hobby is reading comics. I like Superman. And I wished and wished every day to be his sidekick. I am a superhero.
I’m a meteor that fell from the sky. That is why I have no parents. People found me after I landed on their backyard while they are planting flowers one sunny day. They think I’m a cute little meteor so they kept me in this house.
Everyone here is mean to me. They hate me. I hate them too. I made a pot of flower one day to decorate the house, so that everyone will be delighted when they see it. But some big fatty kids took it from me and broke it into pieces. I cried and cried and cried and cried all day. Why can’t everyone else appreciate me like I appreciate them?
My porridge tasted like tears.
I sat by myself in the eating room. The other kids ran around throwing porridge at each other while I just sit there alone feeling very sad. I wished I had parents. Oh, Santa Claus please please please give me parents this Christmas. I promise I’ll be good. I’m always good. I listened to what the aunties say. They asked me to pull down my pants and I followed. They ask me to stay still while they touched my pee pee and I followed. I’ll be good. I’m always good.
I wished that I’m not a meteor.
I sat on the floor and opened my box of crayons. They look so tasty with all the wonderful colours plucked from the rainbows to be made into crayons. I like crayons. I drew myself a big picture of me, my mummy and daddy. I scratched off their faces because I never saw them. I scratched their faces with my ugly, evil, doodly daddly black crayon.
And then I cried again. Drip drap drip drap the tears fell onto the paper. My mummy’s dress has polka dots made from my tears. We all look so happy in that picture.
The sun ran away. It was night already. That’s when all monsters come from under the bed and the closet to eat the kids. They like to eat kids. They hate big boy and big girls. Small kids are easy to fit into their belly. Big kids can make them explode.
I sat on my bed, hugging my knees to count the sheep. I looked at my two knees. They look like small mountains and I can see smiling sheep jumping from one mountain to the other. I say, “Hi Mr Sheep” but they all didn’t hear me. So I just keep counting.
23, 24, 25, 30.
Suddenly I hear banging sounds coming from my closet. I made a little cry like a baby getting pinched on the buttocks and I pulled up my blankets to cover my face.
Come and see,
Come and see,
the big fat wonders beyond this,
when I swallow you whole
I’ll be full until I’m old
Come and see,
Come and see,
When I swallow you whole
I’ll go hiss, hiss, hiss
Oh my God oh my God I am going to die. The monster is out to get me. I want to jump out the window and pull my cape.
I want to fly away. But I stopped. What would Superman do? What would a superhero like me do?
I will fight.
I will face the monster and defeat him and hide his dead body under my bed.
I tied my blanket around my back to look like a superhero’s cape and I grabbed my scissors and a bottle of salt that I accidentally put into my pocket yesterday. I jumped into the closet and I saw a big, purple squid with 12 eyes. He got 13 tentacles. He was shocked to see me jump into the closet with him.
“What are you doing here?” The squid asked.
“I am here to fight you.”
“Ha ha ha. I will eat you. And all your friends tonight. I’ve been digging the hole from the ground below the grounds for 200 years. I am hungry!” The squid said, his tentacles swinging around like Medusa’s hair.
“I will stop you!” I shouted and I chomped off one of his tentacles with my scissors.
“Aaaaghh!” The squid shouted as he binds my left leg with one of his uncut tentacles.
I swore and cursed while I swing my scissors to cut anything that in front of me. I hope Santa didn’t hear that. The scissors are my sword. And then I saw the bottle of salt in my pocket. Squids are afraid of salty salts. Squids are like worms, they are afraid of salt. One of the aunties told me that.
So I grabbed that bottle of salt and sprinkled it on the squid’s eyes and the pee pee shaped head. He screamed and shout as he curls around like a squid being sprinkled with salt.
“I’m dying, I’m dying!” The squid shouted, still flailing his tentacles around as if to shake off the salts. I cut the tentacle that bound my left leg with my scissors and I made a victory dance. I am so happy.
I wanna walk out of the closet and show everyone in the house the dead squid. Perhaps they will appreciate me now because I saved them. But the squid is still alive. He grabbed both of my legs as he pulled me back into the closet. And when I was dragged into the closet there was a big hole on the bottom. That darn squid dug his way up to my closet! Now he’s dragging me back to whence he came. I screamed and shout and cried while I can no longer see my room. I see the hole above me getting smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller.
I know I’m going to die. I know my friends will still think that I’m not capable of doing anything. But I saved them from being eaten.
The superhero saved the day again.