April 1999
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The Perfect Little Boy

by Erik Hromatka

Ok, So I know that I haven't written anything in awhile and I feel bad about it….

Every month as the deadline approaches I think, "Gee I'd really like to write something for the Shrub." I mean, I really like this ezine, and it's whole point and I want to be a regular part of it… but then I hit the writer's block… It a big ugly thing that scares me back to the reality that,

"Hey, these people can write… can you?"

So I was at home this weekend… My parents (especially my dad) are just learning about the Internet. I sent him an email that had the addresses of some places on the web that I thought might be interesting to him. One was a website made by his cousin in Texas and one was a website from someone looking for info on our last name.

When I got home this weekend, he mentioned he didn't understand the email I sent him… ie he didn't understand how to get to the site addresses I sent him. So I sat down and showed him and my mom the two sites I had sent him… and then he asked me the question, "So how did you find these sites?"

Then I showed him how to look up our name through a web crawler. When the search was finished and the results were displayed, I was shocked… there amongst the returns of web pages made by relatives was "I am a Perverted Bastard" written by yours truly and submitted to the Shrub last year. As I quickly tried to scroll past the selection my mom said," What's that?" And I quickly responded, "I don't know" as it went off screen.

"Go back to that" she said and I tried to convince her to look at another site…

"No, I want to see what that is," she said and the jig was up… I told her that it was something that I had written and submitted to an online ezine and as it loaded she began repeating the word "bastard" as if she were in some kind of trance. Of course, after reading the article, she wanted to know what else I had written for this online magazine, and that's when I got really embarrassed. She read my poem "From the Other Side of the Road", and wanted to know if she had met the girl.

"No Mom, you haven't." I replied.

"So who is she? And what else have you written?"

That's when she found "Sometimes You Just Have to Punt".

Since then she has tried to blackmail me.

When I left for college she made a mention of me mooning trains… the only problem is that I'm proud of my past actions.

I AM proud I mooned the train.

You see, I am the youngest child and so in my mom's eyes I will always be her "perfect little boy".

So as I'm about to graduate from college in May, I think it's about time she finds out what her perfect little boy is really like.

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