March 5th Aaron Woodall
In 8th grade, I tried to be cooler. Puberty was being nice to me and alllll the girls were into lil’ Aaron. At the end of the year, I was beyond pumped for my first dance. I had a giant gray button shirt that had black dragons on it and I put way too much gel in my hair. Tonight was my night. But sadly, my dad had other plans. No sooner had I nervously pressed my pelvis up against a girl’s buttocks for the very first time, my conservative-Mormon-literal pig farmer-father showed up in Benjamin Tasker’s cafeteria, scowling at the lewd and lecherous behavior on display. In horror, I watched him make his way through the sea of awkward children grinding on each other, towering 3 feet above them, a giant among tweens. He angrily escorted me from the premises and I cried in the car ride home.