Half a mile in my shoes

I’ll tell you what difficult is.  It’s trying to be normal.  I mean even my sentences are short.  In highschool gym class I couldn’t reach the shower heads in the locker room.  I would bang my head on the knobs trying to get it the right temperature.  Then run back and forth to the stream to check.  The towels were always large enough though.  I was lucky when I had a bottom locker.  I was never picked for the leading roll in drama club.  I heard jokes about being tossed almost daily.  It took my public school 7 years to not treat me like I was handicapped.  I don’t need a ramp.  When I run it looks like I don’t bend my legs or arms.  I hate the term “feeling a little peckish”.  I don’t use it often at all.  So before you tell me about your problems with race, creed or religion check one thing first.  Can you be a bus driver?  Can you see over the counter to to ask if they want fries with that?  Can you reach the pen with the chain?  If so help a brother out.  I’m not your monkey put here to amuse you.  I just have a sense of humor.  It’s all I got.  Until I can ride the roller coaster, screw you Captain Funtastic!  Six flags my ass.