My Cardboard Balcony

The Worst Thing by Belinda Roddie The worst things I've ever done: A numbered list. The kind you tuck away into the confines of a Google Doc. Everyone has to write a good list poem, and not surprisingly, mine happens to be adequately self-deprecating. So let's begin: 1. Forgot to complete my math homework. 2. Broke the yolk in three eggs meant for my wife's breakfast. 3. Missed multiple chances to keep my tongue from waging temper tantrums. Same with my fingers; I can't help getting involved in a good old-fashioned duel on social media. 4. Ran away from home, though I didn't get very far. I just wound up in the park with a pack of cigarettes, and I smoked two of them before throwing the rest of their lovers away. 5. Tore the side view mirror off my car when I was sixteen. 6. Caused a four-car accident when I was twenty-one. The man three cars ahead of me had decided that he wanted to take the road less traveled ...

Watch me, son: I'll show you how it's done. Retrieve the book, scan it in the machine. Then you get to take it home, but only for a few weeks, and then you have to bring it back. So read it quickly, my boy - but savor it. Enjoy the adventure on the pages. Once you're done, we can return it for another tome. See, this is one of the last havens we have in this small, humble town - a chance to be surrounded by books without needing to pay an arm and a leg for them.