Ever since I can remember there were lines around my room. Everybody
told me that the lines where very important and that I should memorize them.
"What's to memorize?" I would ask somewhat confused, "They're only lines."
That's when their eyes bugged out and mouths fell agape. According to what they
said, the lines were rules you should follow throughout your life.
RULES?! They must be high!
Can you imagine? Living your life the way someone else says you should?
I would have to do things for them, things I might not even like. I couldn't be me.
Who drew those fucking lines, anyway? I want to have a talk with them! Where do
they get off trying to tell me what to do? Who made them God? From what I heard
there were some of those lines that ought to be erased. Totally useless. A lot of lines
that told you what you could and couldn't do with you own body.
TOTALLY unacceptable!
Now I'm saying that all of the lines were bad. There were some lines that were all
right with me.
One person shall not take the life of another. I even learned how to draw that one.
Another good line was if something is not yours, you must ask to have it. I always liked
that one because I wouldn't want anybody taking something that belonged to me.
Anyway, because I paid no attention to the lines, they seemed to think that my brain
wasn't in good working order. Some even wondered if I had one. I told them my brain was fine.
I just didn't need no lines.
You know, like thanks but no thanks.
So then they came up with this idea right out of left field. They asked me if I wanted
to go to a special place with no lines.
"Sure!", I replied, "When do we leave?"
They said in a week. The arrangments would take that long. "Fine." I said.
A week later they came for me. The vehicle in which I was to ride to the "tution"
(that's what they called the place with no lines), was a grand one.
Up front was a friendly guy driving and a woman in back watching me, both dressed in white.
There were colored flashing lights that made fascinating patterns and inside
there was a bed for me to lay on. I wasn't really tired, but I laid down to make them happy.
After a considerable amount of time passed we arrived at the tution. There
were more friendly folks in white. They asked me if I was angry about all of this.
"Hey", I said, "I can deal with it."
They took me to a room with a pretty blonde at a desk. She pulled out some
papers with a shitload of lines on them. Seems she wanted me to draw
the lines that were supposed to be who I was. A way to identify me. OBVIOUSLYa new girl.
She was making no points with me, that's for sure.
"Look hon", I said in a soft, cool voice, "you don't seem to understand. It's them
damn lines that started this whole mess."
She looked over at the two folks who rode up with me. They nodded and she
drew some lines on the papers. When she was finished she told me that all was well and
that I could go right on in.
"So long, suckers!" I said.
They sowed me around a bit, where I could sleep and eat and the body facilities.
After we were done, I met everybody else. My new friends. They too had choosen
not to deal with the lines. We were a lucky few.
From now on until the day I die, the only lines I have to see are the straight ones in my window
running from top to bottom.
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