I was twelve when my parents threw me up for adoption, explaining to me in graphic detail and imprudent terms, was apparently not beyond them.
"Tom, you're mouth is so very small, but too big to fit our once single lifestyle." my mother said grinning like a hyena.
There my parents stood before me, deep, wide smiles on their faces like they had overdosed on Prozac, telling me I was now to live with some other people they were kicking me out of their house, and out of their lives.
"Ah, it's not so bad maybe you'll be adopted by a nice, rich family," my father spoke as if he could not have been held accountable for my adverse situation.
"Dad, I don't want to live with another family, even a rich one, I want you, mom, and me to be a family." I pleaded upon deaf ears.
"Nonsense, you're too much of a pesky nuisance to further allow your lingering in our house." He again impressed me with his total disregard for my well-being.
"But its my home too, and you don't have the right to abandon me." I once again implored for their consideration.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, we do reserve the right or else it would be illegal, you little, clever unwanted angel," my mom crudely retaliated. These words left me in an unrecoverable stupor.
"And it's no longer your home anymore stranger," my renounced father added as he patted my brown hair, then rubbed his hands on his pants. This just further adding to the feeling that I was an infectious disease that no one wanted. Maybe they had wanted a girl in the first place, but why wait til now to abandon me.
I stared at my parents in disbelief, as a fat, hairy man strolled up to me in a casual manner. "But I love you," I beseech-ed of them a final time.
"You talk to much, truth is you're no longer cute," my father responded unfazed by my concluding statement. "you should probably see to it he gets a shower," he explained to the man.
"How could you possib...............," I was interrupted by my father.
"Why can't you be happy for your mother and me, we finally got you out of our hands." my father then bid me farewell, turned on his heel, and he sauntered abroad.
"Ta ta," my mother spoke these last two words, did the same as my father before her, and left me to face my endless sorrow.
"This way little orphan Annie," the man beckoned to me in a cruel, brutish manner, then scoffed slightly.
I followed remotely behind the man down a long hallway, indifferent to what he required of me, but doing what he said to avoid attempting to comprehend the predicament.
The man was only slightly taller than I was, but much, much wider. He was a very ordinary man of about thirty or forty, which was easy to tell from his bald head. He was wearing khakis with a white polo shirt tucked in. His name tag said Evan Roberts. The only real interesting thing about him other than the mustard stain on his shirt, was that he had a bloodshot red eyes.
He had led me to the end of the hallway to a room filled with other children playing carefree.
A tall, skinny man with shaggy hair greeted Bob at the door. His name tag said Harold Sneed. He looked about twenty and wore a red t-shirt and skinny jeans.
"Bobby, I thought you were bringing back a new kid or are you hiding him behind your fat,"
Sneed insulted Bob.
"lay off Sneed," Bob whined. I then protruded into the room, found a spot in the corner, sat down, and rested my head against the solid wall.
