Why I want to Grow Up - part I

“Why I want to Grow Up”

By Jeffery Goldman

The man who hands out these assignments is a retard. I don’t want to grow up-ever! Adults have no idea what they’re doing or how to have a good time. Let me start at the beginning because it makes sense. I’m fourteen years old and a plain guy. I’m not a jock, druggie or a player. I’m only doing this stupid class work because I was told if I don’t the whole world will hate my guts until I’m dead. It’s a real ass-pain to be a fourteen year old in 2025. The fat kids, dope addicts, football stars and computer geeks have taken everything and turned it into a job.

　

The fat kids piss me off more than anyone because they’re always being told they ’can’t help it’ that their parents are so dumb they never learned to say to their kid “No, you can’t have that.”

　

　

The dope addicts annoy the shit out of me because we’re always told to feel as bad for them as the fat kids who can’t help it either. These kids were forced to do drugs and leave reality by the media. Now they get to go on retreats and to camps made for them. The football stars are all hooked on gambling and ‘set a bad example’ but we shouldn’t yell at them because God decided they should be blessed with athletic ability which turned evil on them. The geeks, meanwhile, have the balls to convince the world the ’future’ is in technology so we have to train all the time to be like them.

　

I really don’t want to grow up, do these retarded assignments or be an adult because the economy has gotten to the point where the only way anybody can get by is by becoming fat, geeky or a druggie. These are the people this American society takes care of. That being the case; I have no desire to do anything but be a bum on my parents’ couch. I sure as hell never planned to become anything like a working man. People who work are boring and grow ulcers, get cancer, or diabetes or some other terrible disease. The work these people do is nothing more than monitor other people’s progress and complain when someone falls out of line.

　

Anyway, Mr. Burke, a short roly-poly guy with nothing on top of his head but a big scar shaped like a turkey, handed this assignment out to me and my class. Supposedly to make us think about the future, that’s what he told us the principal, Miss Bromine told him. Miss Bromine is a big boobed lady I always thought was a model of some kind in another life. She has fluffy yellow hair with streaks of grey, kind, seductive blue eyes and a slender figure. If you ask me, Burke wants to hop on Bromine and do the nasty.

2

　

　

I turned to the clock on the wall hoping like hell it would give me good news and felt relief as it showed the time as being 2:30. The bell rang and I sighed deeply. We had only to stop at homeroom then listen to the silly announcements and we were free for the weekend. I sat patiently as the rest of the class hurried to the door to escape. It always seemed to me the hurry that people were in is the main reason they never enjoy themselves you know? There is another kid, Jeremy Kemp, who always lagged behind the rest of our class like me. Jeremy is a cool guy because he doesn’t like the idea of being molded into a jerk as much as I. He always whistled to himself as he watched the class march to the beat they were given. He whistled softly as the cheering crowd flooded the hallway. He had short dark hair that I always figured was his mom’s doing. With skinny legs, and a droopy grin, Jeremy seemed as laid back as anyone which is something I admired.

　

After everyone else had gone, we stood up and began to step toward the door. Watching us with no stealth at all, Burke grinned. Jeremy and I walked into the hallway and casually shot the crap as we returned to homeroom. He said, “So what do you think about the mission?” Jeremy’s dad was a soldier from the war against Iraq so he always called our assignments missions.

　

“I don’t know it seems kind of a stupid thing to ask a ninth grader. Why do I want to be an adult? Let me see here, so I don’t have to answer stupid questions like that anymore?”

　

We shared a laugh, and then he said, “I agree with you there, I might have some trouble coming up with reasons to grow up outside of telling all the teachers to go to hell. What do you say we hang out tomorrow and trade notes? We should be able to write something ‘intellectual’ together. We can always change our stuff just a little so the goober doesn’t know he’s reading the same paper twice.” Jeremy smiled at me slyly.

　

I noticed we were at homeroom so I stopped talking and nodded my approval of the plan. I found my seat and waited for Mrs. Weaver to give us the announcements. Ms. Weaver was our homeroom fantasy lady. There was nobody in the entire class that didn’t think about her while playing with themselves. Girls would be included in that number because I overheard Jean Wilson and Marcia Genk talking one time. If it weren’t for the fact that she was so hot, no one would have paid any attention to Mrs. Weaver. She was tallish, had a perfect figure eight shape, big tits, nice ass and twin black eyes that could stare into your soul and dig out your greatest wish for you to see.

3

The announcements were the usual crap about the upcoming celebration for those goofy retards that got blown up back in ‘01, the homecoming dance and the new uniforms we all had to buy. After she was done, Ms. Weaver gave us the treat for the weekend as she bent over to pick up a piece of chalk and exposed her cleavage. I glanced around to be sure everyone else got a peek and then grinned as Trisha Polynice had to stop chewing her gum so it wouldn’t be swallowed. Trisha was going out with Rhonda Spears and both giggled as they touched each other’s hands before standing. Damn, I sometimes wish the homosexual revolution never took place. Trisha was a total bomb that I’d like to do the nasty with but she was in love with Rhonda so there was no way in hell she’d ever even think about somebody who had a penis.

　

Class was over for the first weekend of the year and I let go a heavy sigh as I turned to my locker. Gathering my knapsack with the electronic book and my assignments, I watched with envy as Jeremy and his boyfriend (a druggie wannabe) named Don, swapped spit and then held hands and marched out the door. I was envious because they had each other to fool around with. People call me a throwback and, therefore, a dead-end, because I like the idea of having a woman to have sex with. Sue me; I don’t understand why a guy would want another guy. It’s cool they do and I really don’t care, I just want a girl. Jeremy threw a glance at me as he stepped away and I nodded because it meant he’d call me after ten in the morning.

　

The class emptied into the hall while I waited for them to clear. Ms. Weaver was watching me from her seat and cleared her throat to get my attention. I knew the gesture well and turned to face her. She draped one arm across the arm of the chair and the other held her head. She smiled at me and I felt my pulse quicken to the point I thought she could hear my heart pounding through my chest. “Jeff,” she began while her eyebrow slowly rose and she licked her bottom lip, “you seem a little more disturbed than usual. What’s up is there anything I can do?”

　

She had to have known how much I was turned on as I fumbled for words and tried not to stare at her beautiful tits. We’d had conversations before about my intelligence/aptitude tests. Ms. Weaver was very much in tune with her students and seemed to really give a shit if somebody was having problems. She was the first adult I’d known to address my ’disturbing’ moods. I had told her many times about my worries regarding the future I was supposed to be such a part of. The I.A. tests had shown that I was a bright guy with a flair for words that could be anything my heart desired as long as it was intellectually tough. I hemmed and hawed briefly and then spilled my guts after she caught me with a gorgeous black eye.

　

　

4

“We got the crappy assignment from Burke to write an essay about why we want to grow up. To be honest; I really have no desire to become old. So I’m thinking about that and Jeremy and Don seem so happy that it really pisses me off.”

　

The eyebrow shot the rest of the way to the top of her beautiful head and she said, “Do you have the hots for Jeremy?”

　

While I understand the reason for the question, the effect on my stomach was unpleasant as hell. Jeremy was as cool as a guy could be but my dick has been reserved for someone with a vagina. “No, Ms. Weaver, I like the guy but not like that. The fact is I know it might make me sound like I’m an old man, I want a girlfriend.” I said it and felt my cheeks flush as I watched Ms. Weaver digest my statement. Then she patted the desk for me to sit, I hopped on the edge and aimed my eyes directly on hers so she wouldn’t think I was a pervert or something.

　

She actually reached out and took my sweaty palm into her hand and said, “It is okay, Jeffery, you are not the only person in the world that still enjoys conventional sexual relationships. I have been on both sides of the proverbial fence and I’m still not sure what I prefer.”

　

Now that was unexpected as hell! I attempted to grin but was met by a lump in my Levis. I was unsure of what to say next because, even though the revolution was over and homosexuality was as much a part of ’acceptable society’ as hetero-sexuality, it was frowned on to expose your particular pleasure to minors. In fact, she was now treading through dangerous waters because I could sue her and have her job under the harassment regulations that were passed in 2014. I flipped my sack over to cover my hard member and said, “Really, I always thought you and Ms. Caterwaul had a thing going?”

　

Ms. Caterwaul was the ugliest creature God ever screwed up who worked in the cafeteria. She always had at least one pea stuck in her teeth and smelled like rotting milk. She was a nice enough lunch lady but, yuck, after the rumor had spread that Caterwaul and Weaver was going together, I was repulsed but shrugged.

　

“Alice has her fantasies and yes, we used to share an apartment, but that was only a rumor.” Ms. Weaver said to me with a lilt in her voice.

5

“We all have our own fantasies, Jeff. I sincerely hope you find yours, there’s no need to worry I’m sure there is a girl in this school who would love to get with a guy like you. You are a sweetheart and I think you’ll be all right. Don’t worry so much about what tomorrow may bring, okay?”

　

Thank God I checked my watch and said, “I really have to go now, Ms. Weaver, thanks for the talk.”

　

　

As I hopped off the desk and headed for the door, she said, “Lydia, from now on, when we’re alone like this, I want you to call me Lydia, if that’s okay with you Jeff.”

　

　

“Lydia,” I smiled broadly and shot the stunning homeroom teacher with my finger.

　

　

The coast was clear enough as I stepped into the empty hallway with my body screaming for relief. I struggled with the idea of calling a hot babe like Ms. Weaver, Lydia. My head was soaring through the fantasies I’d had for as long as I could remember. I was glad the autumn was setting in because it meant that the air would be a lot cooler and boy, I needed to be cooled down a lot.

　

I went outside and felt the north wind breeze over me and took in a long breath. The school bus had already left but, after talking to my dad about the ordeal of having to be bussed, I figured it didn’t matter. The only time it’s important to be on the bus is in the morning because they yell at you when you’re late for school. In the afternoon nobody gives a shit because, after all, who in hell is in a hurry to get home? I decided to take a trip before heading to the house. There were a couple reasons for this; first, I had to get the image of Ms. Weaver and me bumping uglies out of my mind, second, dad and mom never put pressure on me to be back before dinner, and third, I really wanted a new adventure.

　

I traipsed to the woods and on the way I saw a very old woman trying her best to move a shit-load of packages from the back of an old car to her house. My parents had always taught me to help out whoever, whenever, wherever I could. So I put my sack

6

down and skipped over with my hands held out. The old woman looked at me with a smile that said she was happy to see someone willing to help her.

I nodded politely as I hefted a huge bag and turned to lug it across the driveway. This woman had no idea how to shop for food either, the bag was stuffed to the point of tearing and I could see she’d bought the same item at least ten times. I was happy to have the distraction and worked with a slight smirk on my face. I put the bag on the porch and turned back for another when the old lady stopped moving. I wasn’t sure what the problem was but she just froze in place. After the school had been trained in C.P.R. and First Aid I was certified to perform both so I jumped over to see if there was any medical problem.

　

　

Her eyes were glazed over and her head was pointed toward the sky. I wasn’t sure what I could do but, outside of the seizure she looked like she might go into, there wasn’t anything I could see wrong. I said, “Excuse me, Ma’am, what’s wrong?”

　

She didn’t take her eyes from whatever she was looking at as she said, “Curiosity killed the cat, he died okay, but at least he found out what he wanted to know.” I thought it was a strange thing to say but then figured she was going to be alright.

　

I shot her a smile, “When you’re right, and you sure are, you’re right.”

　

Then the old woman grabbed my hand with more force than I thought she was capable of and thrust it to her chest. Before I could do or say anything, she snatched my head with her free hand and brought it to the ground. I was amazed a skinny old woman could be so strong and paralyze me. The thought then drifted through my mind that I must look silly in this position. She then began to chant in a language I’d never heard. The world started spinning around me and I felt my body being called to the ground. Then she said, “Good kitty, everything is going to be wonderful, as long as you don’t ask any questions.”

　

The cool autumn breezes picked up slightly and my vision became fuzzed. It was almost as though I was inside of a mirror looking out. The most wonderful aroma came to my nose as I swore there was a big bowl of well cooked chicken waiting for me to devour. I shrugged, then stood and stretched out with a long yawn. It took a moment before I realized what happened: I had grown a tail and long whiskers. The hair on my face was fluffy and thick and my ears were huge. I looked around to see where I was and the whole world was upside down.

7

Everything was gigantic and so far above me I almost cried.

　

　

Casually (as casually as I could be anyhow) I strolled around the big wooden floor to get to know my surroundings better and find some way of seeing what I looked like. I realized I was in a kitchen because I eyed a fridge, stove and a table. I hopped on a chair then to the table where there was a toaster. With a sidelong glance at the toaster, I checked myself out. I was a cat, more like an overgrown kitten, with a furry white neck and a long fluffy tail. My mind was adjusting too quickly to the change for my own tastes but, I thought briefly, it can’t possibly last. My stomach was motivated so it signaled my nose which pointed in the direction of a flat red bowl. I skipped over to the bowl and pigged out on the tuna that was there.

　

Cats have a decent appetite so I was happy the food was available. My neck started making noise, which startled me at first, and then I smiled as I enjoyed purring. The next thing I saw freaked me out.

　

From behind me I heard something very big move. I ducked behind the fridge and saw a tall person wearing a hood and a very long dark overcoat. I watched this person from behind the fridge as they flipped the light on and stooped to all fours and began to creep about the place. I had no idea what this person’s gender was until it spoke in a whisper. “Damn it, what the hell did you do to the rock, Mrs. Andersen?” The voice was definitely feminine and I took note of the way the woman slid her hand around the floor by the stove. She was obviously looking for something small.

　

I heard a banging come from the hall then which alarmed me for a second. Then there was a huge person that entered the room with a sledgehammer. The woman on the floor quickly looked up and before she could say anything the sledgehammer was sent with force to her head. The hood was dripping with blood as the big man stepped over to the now dead woman and smiled. He had greasy eyes that glared at the corpse. His costume was that of overalls with sweat and a dark film that seemed to be all over him. He wore worn construction boots and a long lumberjack shirt tied around his neck. To be truthful, he reminded me of an old comic book villain with a cape. The old woman emerged then, a much younger version of her anyway; she was wearing a blue bathrobe and bunny slippers.

　

When she saw the caped man, she shrieked and froze in place. He laughed coldly as he peered at her and raised the sledgehammer. I’d be damned if I was going to