ELAR

The Park

And the Leg. 

By David Murray

I’m pretty sure you would think that by the time you’re four you wouldn’t be very dumb but you’d be wrong.

You see, when I was a kid I was very active.

I was energetic, hyper, crazy, insane, psychotic, small brained, too much sugar having , bouncing off the walls, and more.

I think even a thesaurus couldn’t explain everything I was when I was four.

My brother and mom had just shown me the second Spider-Man movie. That was the biggest mistake of their lives.

Being the all-of-the-above kid I was, I did everything I could to be Spider-Man. I was hyper focused on the idea of being Spider-Man. Again, I was crazy.

Everywhere I went I would wear a cheap 14 dollar costume with big biceps that made me look like a bodybuilder. 9 times out of 10 you would see me wearing it. 

Everyday I would watch Spider-Man. Basically religiously. It had become a staple in my life.

There was a park in our neighborhood that I played in more than I should’ve. As a child I was an adrenaline junky. I would jump off the swings as high as I could. I would dive into the pool from high spots. It was fun being crazy, until it wasn’t.

At this park there was a weird layout. In the jungle gym they had a rock climb. It wasn’t a wall though. Me being the naive four year old I was, I would be jumping off of everything in that park. One day I decided that I wanted to replicate Spider-Man. It couldn’t cause any harm right?

On this rock structure, I spread my arms. Spread my legs far. I said to myself that this was the moment I would become my favorite superhero. Yet, I failed.

After taking my leap of faith I hit the ground in a split position. I looked like a 38 year old trying to do yoga for the first time. Except, I was four. I could hear my leg snap. I could feel the grueling pain after hitting the ground. It felt like someone grabbed it and crumpled it like a piece of paper. Then they would say, “That’s not enough.” Then they would proceed to light my leg on fire, bash it with a baseball bat, uncrumple it just to rip it in half, crumple it back up, stomp on it, and then finally put it in a sock with a rock, with a heavy lock, boiled in a crock pot just to sink to the bottom of a lake. What I’m trying to say is, it hurt. Bad.

It was a depressing amount of days. I would sit on the couch eating pretzels. Again and again and again, I would beg my mom to let me watch Spider-Man.

I remember the day I got my cast off. It was the happiest day of my life. The best part was itching my leg for the first time in forever.

I remember when they put the saw on my cast. “It tickles!” I said. “Hahahahahahahahahaha.” I blurted out. Now everytime I watch a Spider-Man movie all I can think about is,

“Remember when you broke your leg?”

It sucks to say the least but it can bring a nice laugh to my family, (and me.)

I guess I overreacted when I broke my leg. The pain wasn’t as bad as it may seem. But it’s funny. It would be really boring if I just said, “It hurt.” But with all the dramatic talk, I’m pretty sure I made you and others bawl your eyes out from laughter.

I guess the moral of this story is,

Don’t be dumb like me.

That was my memoir on breaking my leg.

This is my persuasive essay.

This is my Hatchet Mini Essay.

This is my quote and truism bank.