Sometimes I Wish I Were A Kangaroo

Sometimes I wish I were a kangaroo. Other times, I think that if I were a supermodel, then everyone would want to be my friend. But still the thought lingers: why don’t I own a waffle iron?

One day in seventh grade, I walked into my classroom (well, the smaller auditorium — I had homeroom or English or something like that) to find the above passage written on the white board. I thought it was fantastic — absolutely the perfect mix of random statements. 

Nobody knew where it came from, why it was there, or how it got there. It just appeared on the board. I loved it . . . and clearly, it has stayed with me. It was hilarious. I’ve often tried to put together off-the-wall statements, but they never seem to strike the proper mix of randomness and balance. I just couldn’t figure out why anyone would say it or why they’d put it all together (Kangaroo? Super model? Waffle iron?).

Some time later (maybe years later), I was told by an older friend that one of her fellow classmates that written it on the board in a previous class. It lost a little bit of its magic. For them, it wasn’t anything special, just someone goofing around. They didn’t have that element of “What?? How . . . why . . . what?” that came from it simply being there.

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