(reading time: 24 minutes)
Breeeeeeek, breek, breek. Sort of like a cicada, but according to the box it was supposed to be a tree frog. I hadn’t liked tree frogs in about six years, but when Mom said she was going to keep my room just as it was after I left she sure meant it. So I was being woken up by a plastic golden alarm clock shaped like a frog. It breeeked in my face and flashed the lights behind its purple eyes.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and winced when my feet hit the floor. Pain. Docs said my leg should be one hundred percent by now. Liars. They wanted me to get hurt again; it’s just more money in their pocket. Miss the family doctor. Think he was a real family doctor… like a cousin removed a handful of times or something. You need your blood mixed with theirs to get them to really care. Continue reading