My name is Timothy Green. Yes, just like the movie, The Odd Life of Timothy Green; but not like Sutter Keely, whose opening line I just stole: “My name is Sutter Keely!”
Also, I’m not an alcoholic like Sutter is.
Life is really like one big movie. Short moments we wish to speed by with. Long moments we sometimes forget about.
And in my movie, this is how it would go: Actor…uh, me…clears his throat…
From the black, screen, we hear some scribble scrabbles against a hard surface…
Okay, Timothy, just keep it simple.
Ladies and gentlemen and everyone who’s 4’11 or shorter, my name is Timothy Green (in case you forgot it the first time). I’m 4’11, aka “a shawdy,” as Lisa the random chick in my class calls me. Shawdy means “short,” in case you were wondering. I eat my carrots and broccoli like no other kid—no seriously, I think I’m the only one who likes fruits and veggies? I even prefer H20 over soda pop—
“Damn it, Dexter!” I nearly collapse out of my spinning red chair because Dexter my pet beagle is licking my toes—no, not Dexter the serial killer from that show, which mom screams at me to never watch whenever I try to stream it on Netflix. Yet, I’ve seen American Beauty and House of Cards with her a gazillion times, because Space is da man! Seriously, if I ever meet Kevin Spacey aka Lester Burnham aka F.U. (Frank Underwood!), I might faint and then die. Or, I’ll just run up to him and scream, “DAD!”
Mom hates when I say that last part, but dad just laughs at me.
“Dexter, no!” I yank my Star Wars pillow away from him. Dexter was just…playing with it. Oh, man…not on Yoda’s face. Gross!