When I was in either third grade or my second fourth grade, I heard rumors that a kid had brought a gun to school. A girl named Tina and myself disarmed the kid and gave the gun to the teachers. Turned out it was just a starter pistol, but apparently he was putting rocks in the barrel and trying to shoot branches off trees. Regardless of any of that, he was not punished as far as I know. It wasn’t on the news. He never tried it again as far as I know. These days that kid would be in prison and Tina and I would have been praised as heros. These days it doesn’t matter if the gun is real, its all those mind bullets the kids shoot. I think that’s all the teachers were afraid of with me. They probably worried about what would happen if just one of my mind bullets materialized. What they never seemed to notice was that my mind bullets were real, but they weren’t bad bullets, they were bullets of benevolence.
Anyway, that kid who had the gun, used to steal the little gold stars and “good job” and “well done” stickers and take them home to his mom affixed to his F papers. It was really sad. But I think it has become abundantly clear that sad and pathetic is funny. I still wonder if his mom ever figured out that he was not the student the stickers made him out to be.