Troubles With Authority Figures

I was having a random conversation with a friend and we spoke about general childhood stuff and having to deal with elders treating us like kids (because we were kids, but what kid wants to acknowledge that?), which ended up with me thinking back to all the authority figures in my life and realizing that, with few exceptions, I’ve been beaten by mostly everyone, for indiscipline, talking back to elders, or whatever else elders beat kids for. I listed out my parents, grandparents, uncles, teachers, principals, fathers and brothers (the blessed sort), boarding supervisors; pretty much anyone entrusted with my charge acknowledged that I was a snotty, disobedient, a too-smart-for-my-own-good brat, and therefore any degree of punishment wasn’t too much or too far. Still, I hold no grudges against them; I’d knock me about if I were charged with a snot like me.

These are the downsides of precociousness. Intellectual superiority (I used to believe that) to these people made me a) question their authority, and b) their consequent verbal and slash or physical assertion of that authority without any explanation or grounds or validity for being an authority figure vested with the sweeping, constitutionally (I think) illegal powers of child verbal/physical abuse. Like, let’s face it, I clearly know more than you, better than you, and I’m only expressing that fact. Your advanced age or your nominal figurehead status means nothing to me, except an annoyance maybe at your lack of comprehension of your own stupidity and pigheadedness for not acknowledging the power of my brain, one that’d figuratively run rings around your own before you’d even get off the ground (excuse the mixing of metaphors).

So, kids, take heart if you think you’re smarter than your elders; you most probably are. Age doesn’t bring wisdom or experience; that’s a myth propagated by elders to subjugate you, whack you with a fine-tuned bamboo. I say that because I’m now an “elder” and I and everyone I know has no idea what the hell we’re doing. Yes, we’re very much bullshitting as we go along.

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A 100-word Story: Monster

Her eyes focused on her bloodied hands. She looked down with horror in her eyes at the knife on the floor beside them. She took a few hesitant steps towards her son, who stumbled away. Her mouth whispered “Son…” before being cut off abruptly by a thudding sound. Johnny looked down at the folded figure of his mother and her sightless eyes and wondered if he’d finally finished her this time. The monster would never hurt them again, he thought, as he crept into bed and went to sleep beside his sister, whose mouth was open in a soundless scream.