A young and disgruntled little Howie threw down his baseball cap and rolled up his sleeves, and stared in frustration from atop a small hill, at his only cronies, the little third grade peons.

Hmpf. At least they knew who was top-dog. Apparently, not everybody got the memo. Awww hell, if these freaks are all I've got, I guess I ought to say something. Grrr.

"So maybe you guys noticed that new, tall, freaky kid had the numbers on the basketball court today...
"Yeah, well, we WILL NOT give up!
"We'll go to ball field...
"We'll go to the swingset...
"We WILL SWING on that jungle gym!
"And we WILL TEETER on that TOT!
"We will GO to the slide!
"Then WE WILL GO BACK TO THE BASKETBALL COURT, AND TAKE BACK THE PLAYGROUND!!
"YIPPEEYOWEEYEAHBOY!"

The children stared at him in wonder, they hung out a while. But when he left, they returned to the sandbox where all the other freaks hung out.

Young Howie, wounded and alone, retired to his bedroom, fell on the floor, cried until his face reddened, banged his fists on the floor, and yelled for his mommy... After all, he'd never be second best in her eyes.