I call her this for obvious reasons, namely, her big ol' brown eyes. Also, it is not an insult (COWS HAVE BEAUTIFUL EYES DAMNIT!).
So, Cow Eyes and I have known each other since we were two years old, because we went to a small school that ran from daycare until 12th grade. Both our parents, being keeners, made sure to get us in before we even knew our alphabet. Actually, our parents were such keeners that we probably already knew our alphabet. Digression ended.
Anyways, as a kid, I was a giant brat. I attribute that to my only-child childhood (redundancy, yeah!). But basically, I always got my way, and I pretty much did whatever it took excluding violence. I was like a young Donald Trump, minus the billions and the bad haircut. It's not really the best comparison, but it's the only I can think of. Comment if you think of a better one. Damn, while can't I stay on topic?
So, back in kindergarden, Cow Eyes and I were in the same class. Our class not only had the regular "learning area", but also had added "stations", such as the arts & crafts area, the reading area, the building blocks area, etc. The Mother of all Holies, however, was the Make-Believe Area, with small-child-sized castle/house-thingy included. Seriously, that house was the shit. You could pretend you were a princess, a mom, or the pink Power Ranger (cause no one ever wanted to be the yellow one), you could spy on other kids picking their noses. When you were in the castle, THE WORLD WAS AT YOUR FINGERTIPS.
What is looked like to us:
What it probably looked like:
To avoid castle-overcrowding and any kind of mafia-type organization of kids and "neighbourhoods", where you have to pay for "protection" through the currency of jellybeans, the shit was organized. Every kid had a name card, and every play area had a certain amount of slots for name card. When the play time switch whistle (or bell or whatever it was) went off, everyone took out their name card from their current station and ran like a mothafucka to the one they wanted to go to next before all the slots were filled.
It is this system that began my hatred for Cow Eyes. One fine kindergarden day, I decided that I was getting the castle of awesomeness. No matter what. No matter what. I was at the art and crafts making a paper man with three cottonball bellies when the bell rang. I chucked that creepy art project and ran for it. There were three slots left. Two, One spot. In my peripheral, I could see sweet little Cow Eyes walking up to it and putting her name card in THE LAST SLOT.
Next thing I knew, big cry baby Cow Eyes was bawling, while everyone was accusing me of ripping out her name card and putting in my own. I vehemently denied doing anything. I was innocent. Looking back, I obviously put mine in her place, but back then, I wanted to go in the play house so badly that I was actually believing my own lie. While I was yelling that I got framed by Cow Eyes, my teacher picked me up and took me outside of the classroom. For the first time in my educational life, I was put in a time out. There was no justice in the world.
|Hey, look! It's Nick Carter!|
I was left outside of that classroom for hours. At first I cried for my sad sad life. But then, something changed. I realized that it wasn't my fault I was outside of class while everyone else was inside having fun. It was the fault of Cow Eyes. While I was living through Hell on earth, she was frolicking through the Castle of Awesome pretending to be stupid Cinderella or something. Cause who the hell picks to be Cinderella?!? Everyone knows Belle or Ariel are the bomb.
I then spent the entire time out glaring at Cow Eyes through the side window, planning her slow and painful downfall. This was war, and she didn't even know it.
Note: I was probably in Time Out for about 6 minutes, but child-time is never the same as real-world-time.
Also, while looking for a picture of Damien from the movie The Omen, I found this tattoo of the kid instead. w. t. f.