My Cardboard Balcony

To Self Destruct by Belinda Roddie To self destruct, you must ask for pity, light the match, and hold it up to your face. If the flame goes out, you have too much faith. If it burns bright enough, you can reach for the fuse.

My dad won't let me get a motorcycle, so I've decided to get a Vespa instead. It's all about how you word it, and how you find the loopholes. For instance, I asked my mother if I could get a tattoo of a snake on my ankle, to which she said no. But she didn't say no to a snake tattoo on my left bicep. I asked both my parents if I could stay out until two and got a flat out negative. But staying out until one? I'm surprised they haven't caught on to my scheme yet.