All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
It was his ninth birthday and the worst day of Chester Turley's life.
He sat miserably stroking his shaggy tan hair. No one came. Not he like he expected anyone to come. He was a loner, no friends at all. He was also a troublemaker, but of course he just wanted attention.
Chester felt tears trying to escape. Normally he didn't let that happen, but who would see him anyway? He started to sing about his own sadness and lonesomeness. "Boy, does it suck to be me, even on my own birthday..." He loved to sing, but most laughed when he did, so he seldom did anymore.
Right before the waterworks began, however, he heard clapping. Startled, he whipped his head around to see the oddest-looking boy ever.
He looked around seven but somehow seemed more mature, with long, gangly arms and legs. His feet were enormous, three times bigger than Chester's. And his hair! It looked like his head was on fire, red, palm-tree shaped fire. He kept clapping.
"Like, who are you?" demanded Chester.
"I beg your pardon, but is your performance free or must I pay?" His voice was rich and sophisticated.
"Dude, I'll ask you again. WHO ARE YOU?"
"I'm Robert Terwilliger Jr, but my friends call me Bob. Well, they would if I had any."
Chester stared at him. "You don't have any friends either?"
"Nope, I'm just another outcast. Brothers don't count, by the way. My little brother Cecil is strange. He wants to be a clown! So, who are you?"
"Chester Turley. It's my ninth birthday."
"Oh, it's not happy at all. No one came."
Bob acted offended. "I guess that makes me no one."
"Dude, don't be mad. Please stay. I just, like, want a friend." Chester grabbed Bob's sleeve, tears stinging him again.
Bob smiled at him. "Well then, you like to sing?"
"Then I hope you find pleaure in the following selectiion." He sang a song from "The Mikado".
Chester gasped. "Whoa. You're, like, totally great!"
"I know. But do you know what might sound even better?"
"The two of us together." Chester smiled at him.
"So, do you wanna, like, play in my sandbox?"
The two of them sat on the edge of the box. Bob asked,"Where are the shovels?"
"Well, I only have one. You can have it, dude. I don't think I'll need it." They started digging when Chester cried,"I think I see something, Bob!" His digging accelerated while Bob stoppped and watched with admiration.
He pulled out a bag of gold coins. "Buried treasure!" He unwrapped a coin and gaspeed. "Chocolate treasure! My favorite kind! You can have some," he said to Bob as he handed him some coins.
The next day, Chester was riding his bike. He attatched a wagon to it and pulled his new friend in it.
"Most fun I've had in a long time, Chester!" yelled Bob, with his hands waving in the air. They went through a cornfield.
Chester screamed,"I'm the Red Baron! Pow! Ha ha ha ha ha!"
"And I'm the Red Baron's fiendish friend!" yelled Bob. He laughed wickedly.
The two of them made a detour by a stream and got out. Chester put his hands on his hips. "Nice, isn't it, Bob?"
"It certainly is," Bob agreed. "It certainly-aaah! Snake!"
Chester turned around. "What?"
Bob was cowering and screaming at the sight of a rattlesnake that had slithered nearby. It had its fangs bared at him.
Chester charged and whomped the snake with his shovel. It swiftly slithered away in defeat.
"It's okay, dude," he said. "I, like, made it go away. You can look now."
Bob looked up and went to him. "Oh, Chester, you saved my life."
"Uh, don't call me Chester anymore, alright? Call me Snake."
"You've got it."
Later, Snake was using his birthday money to get a tattoo on his arms. It was of a snake, of course. As he was getting it, Bob asked,"Snake, do you find my appearance freakish?"
"Yeah, but that's okay. I like having a freaky best friend."
Bob gasped. "Am I really your best friend?"
"Of course, dude. And I'm not just saying it because I don't have other friends."
Bob sniffed, eyes watering. "You're my best friend too."
The two of them hugged. As they did, Snake thought maybe his ninth birthday was really the BEST day of his life. After all, he got a friend.