The Bully

   "Ms. Daniv, your twelve o'clock is here." my secretary, Dana, announced.
   "Thank you, Dana."  I replied. "Send him in."
   In walked a tall, thin man with a scruffy goat beard.  He seemed vaguely familiar, but from where I had no idea.  I decided it didn't matter, and to commence the interview.
   "Hello, Mr. Drew.  You are here for a job interview, yes?"
   "Y-yes. " he stuttered.
   "What are your qualifications?" I asked, already doubting his ability.
   "I was an accountant before I came here."
   Soon, I couldn't ignore the overwhelming sense of knowing the guy.  I just had to ask.  Becoming a successful business owner hadn't diminished my curiosity.
   "Mr. Drew, do I know you from somewhere?" I asked.
   "Yes, I know you, Lei.  I'm Brent Drew.  You know, from middle school." he said meekly.
   What!?  I couldn't believe this rather pathetic, weak-willed man was the one who had tortured me throughout my middle school year.  He seemed so much...smaller in a way.  How had so much changed?
   "Okay.  Let us continue."  I said nonchalantly.  It didn't matter that much.
   "H-huh? Aren't you going to throw me out?" Brent whispered.
   "Honestly, I haven't though about you in years.  You're an insignificant part of my past.  What you did doesn't affect me." I answered truthfully.
   "O-oh."
   I got the impression that he was slightly offended as he got quieter as the interview proceeded.  I didn't end up hiring him.  He was just so spineless.  How could I let someone like that work in my company?

My Favorite Book as a Kid

   When I was younger my favorite book was probably The Lorax.  The Lorax was my favorite book because it had fun illustrations, a meaningful story (to me), and the characters made me laugh.  It made me feel sad that the Lorax had to kick himself out of his home that the Seller killed.
   I remember that I brought it into my kindergarten class, and my teacher asked me to read it to the class.  I felt so ridiculously proud that I was a good enough reader to read to my classmates.  After reading the book I fairly glowed.
   The book still holds a special place in my heart, even now.  It was such a large part of my kindergarten year.  It made me feel I, a puny little 6-year old at the time, like I could change the world.  It also inspired me to love reading, and want to be an author, which I still do to this day.

Strudel the Talking Dog

   My children had always wanted a pet, so I finally gave in.  His name was Strudel, and he was a purebred Golden Retriever puppy with big clumsy feet, floppy ears, and golden butter yellow fur.  Strudel was almost the perfect dog.  He never misbehaved.  He never bit or chewed on the furniture.  THe only issue was that he talked- and only to me.
   Strudel was a gossip.  He loved to tell me all the neighbors' secrets, but what he truly had a passion for was tattle tailing on my kids.
   "See, Xavier is a pyromaniac.  He actually set Mrs. Finch's hair on fire yesterday.  Mrs. Finch was afraid no one would believe her.  Anisa, on the other hand is showing a homicidal streak.  She's been slaughtering cats, birds, and mice when she says she's going to Willie's house.  Tuesday is a perfect angel, except for the fact she's a compulsive liar.  She says that she set the explosion on Cherry Street, but she didn't."  Strudel chattered.
   "I see... could you call them inside, please?" I ask in a too calm voice.
   "Of course." Strudel smiled.
   My three children walked in nervously fidgeting with their clothes.  They even looked guilty.
   "Well? Anything to say, kids?" I asked coldly.
   "Oh! I aced my history test." Xavier said, hoping I would lighten up.  My expression didn't change.
   "I helped a suffering bird find happiness." Anisa said, hoping the same.  My expression was still the same.
   "I killed Mr. Lucas." Tuesday smirked.
   "No you didn't!" I burst out. "Tuesday, you are a liar!  Anisa, you kill animals! Xavier, you are a pyromaniac!  Why didn't you tell me?"
   "We were afraid you'd send us away!" they cried.
   "Are you kidding me? I couldn't be more proud!  You're finally taking after me! Didn't you know I was Jack the Ripper?'
   "Wow! You're like my hero!" Anisa gasped.
   I totally loved my children.  I had Strudel to thank for telling me their wonderful new talents.  I gave him a cat to chase.

The Awful Pink Monstrosity

   When I was six years old my mother forced me into a pink dress for Easter.  Even then I knew how absolutely hideous pink is.  I hated every second of it, and I wish that I'd forget about it.
   It started on Easter.  It was painfully sunny and hot, which was unusual for that time of year.  The dress my mother stuffed me in was ugly and uncomfortable.  It was a pale pink, tight around the shoulders, itchy, and had stiff lace around the collar.  Not to mention the tights, because I hate tights.
   Everyone cooed over how cute I was while I suffered in silence.  The tights kept riding up, and the dress made me unbearably hot.  It was the worst Easter ever.
   Since then I have had worse memories, but I think they have made me a better person in general, so I don't want to forget them.  On the other hand what value does a memory of pink dresses and itchy tights have?