Previously we would act it out with all the little kids, my cousin Zannie enjoyed playing baby jesus. in her underwear. while keaton would spend the night of christ's birth stealing animals from the stable.
This year we didn't have the proper amount of volunteers to put together another live action performance. My mom asked for something to be thrown together
I tried to hide out behind my labtop but alas, my aunt found me and put me in charge.
Well, I decided that I was gonna do it my own, less traditional but more realistic way. We did a puppet show of the nativity; complete with soundtrack and an ambilical cord.
I made mary look less precious and perfect and more like a frantic pregnant woman going into labor. Joseph was a worried looking man carrying the diaper bag.
When the moment of birth came Mary yelled and Joseph frantically tried to help. Finally, the baby came out; pink, wrinkly and small, ambilical attached. The cord was cut and he was wrapped and laid in the manger.
Now i'm sure you think I am sacreligious and horrible, but I was merely adding what is always cut, it was part of her trail and difficulty, she had to go through the experience of birth in a stable! Everyone portrays it as some la-di-da and suddenly there he is wrapped in swaddling clothes.
No matter how I put it though, I'm probably going to hell...
the performance was a success (in that it happened. and no one died, or cried, or was struck down by God's wrath). It got the story and message across totally fine and made people happy. ambilical and all. so there. judgers.
-moving on-
on christmas my aunt was telling us about my cousin Keaton's school in North Carolina (where they moved a couple years ago).
The school is called Carver Elementary. Recently they decided to create a form of reward for good behavior by giving out "Carver Cash" to students and then having a little junk sale thing at the end of each semester.
So Keaton comes home one day and says "Mom, this whole Carver cash thing is full of scandals"
Apparently one kid had starting printing counterfeit carver cash and secretly distributing and laundering it throughout the school. He wasn't printing ones, however, like everyone was given, but instead twenties that he had manufactured on his computer. So suddenly all these kids are walking around with pockets full of counterfeit pretend money.
The teachers begin to notice whats going on and decide to, in fairness to the good kids, start including twenties in the cash they distributed (which, course did nothing but make the money print business easier to disguise). However, they only allowed it among the fifth graders, but slowly some third graders started getting ahold of the cash, and fourth, and second and so on.
At one point during all this the teachers had taken all the fake fake money and it was kept away in the rest of the money stash. Little did they know just how far these kids would go to get ahold of some sweet green. One of the students snuck into the teacher's office, found the secret folder and stole it. He then distributed it back among the student's.
At this point all kinds of trading had started throughout the school, mainly at lunch. Carver Cash was being used to purchase food from one another, but at this point inflation was high and the Carver dollar had lost much of its worth, so suddenly a capri-sun is costing 20 dollars and 30 for a slice of pb&j. The counterfeiters and friends were rolling in dough so it was no problem for them, but the good kids who had to obey the rules were forced to become lunchroom merchants.
Then there were the events of overpaying teachers. One of the substitutes didn't totally understand how the whole Carver Cash situation worked so she would hand out fifty green for one reward (far more than any other classes were getting). These students seemed to have gotten into a lucky situation here. this is only going to throw their economy off even more creating such distinct economic levels.
Once junk sale day came it was a complete mess. Kids came in (especially the bus kids) with pockets loaded while others who had been good the whole semester had a mere twenty dollars Carver Cash. Then in comes the sub's class, million's flowing from their power ranger lunch boxes and hello kitty backpacks.
Well. It seems the whole school has had a great financial lesson here. Or just shown where our country is headed with this generation of money laundering children standing next in line.
It'll be interesting.
-new topic-
Much of my time the past fews days has been spent playing Zombie in the zombie hunters game my little cousins enjoy playing. It always begins with me just being some bad guy chasing them. So they kill me. But that happens to fast and is boring so they decide that I must then become a zombie to make things interesting. So I follow them around the house and yard; head cocked, dragging one leg, a bit of drool resting on the lower lip (and occasionally running to catch up when they aren't looking). If i got tired I would simply hid in a closet or shower and wait to pounce. Of course, it didn't really matter if I did get them because no matter how much brain I ate they still would remain unharmed (kinda killed any real risk of the game). Finally I took refuge from the hunters upon the roof which I climbed up onto and collected cookies, artillary and my other older cousin (about my age). We fought the army below by throwing chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies down at them and shooting nerf guns which we had stolen from their youngest warrior of six years, Ryan.
Our various forms of weaponry each had their advantages and disadvantages. The chocolate chip cookies were softer, and therefore better to eat, but also they held together better on contact, whereas the dry oatmeal cookies crumbled to bits. If they held together, chances were greater that they would be thrown back up at us which meant we could throw them back, saving the rest for our stomachs.
The battle raged on between the two sides. The cause of war blurred in a torrent of chocolate chips and orange slices. Spies crouched on rooftops, armed guards at the doors. Soldiers even sunk as low as tattle-telling and bird poop throwing. At one point the hose was unleashed and sprayed up at the roof, soaking me and my comrade to the bone. This same hose was even used to threaten the life of my beloved electronic theme music T shirt I had recently received as a christmas gift. I allowed them to throw all matter of artillary at me to save that shirt, but still refused to surrender.
On and on we fought, no end in sight. Ryan changed up his strategy. He wore wigs and medallions and proceeded to perform a war dance in hopes to distract the attention of the opposing side. In all truthfulness, it did make things more difficult for us but we fought on.
Once dinner was called, the fighting ended. It was left behind as tamales were engulfed by the weary warriors. The battle still lays in our memories; the triumphs and failures, the tears we cried, the limbs we lost, but more importantly, the brave heros we fought alongside and the great men we have become because of them.
Always remember the battle of chocolate chip and oatmeal raison.
