One. Alberta
Bound would never be the same since that day she ran away from home. Cursed by tender age (six) and diminutive
pocketbook ($1.84), Alberta didn’t get very far—oh, just about to the
playground I’d say. During a rest stop
at the rocketship monkey bars, the cold futility of it all struck Alberta like a wet slap. She promised herself that the next time she
ran away, she would plan better. And
although she was temporarily defeated by the entire experience she was ultimately
energised by her resolution to try again.
For a brief moment she wondered whether there would be a party for her
return, having just read about The
Prodigal Son last week in catechism class.
Alberta was, despite everything, a dreamer.
Two. Alberta bore the onslaught of: We told you so, We
knew you would be back, and Only good
little girls get dinner, with the quiet strength of Gandhi. But when her mother came to deal out the
corporal punishment, Alberta found her voice and repeated
something she had overheard in the playground:
Three. “Fuck
you!”
Four. Life Lesson Four followed
swiftly.
Five. Alberta decided to
cut her losses and apologised so sweetly that the trill of violins and birds
was heard. She curled up on her side in
bed that night, pondering the cosmos.
She would never be the same.