taller than you.

I was the kid whose lunch box was kicked around the schoolyard by the boy she always liked. This did not mean he liked me back. It meant he was a dick.

And when I fell down chasing them both around, hoping to save my yellow Garfield pail from certain damage, someone asked, "Are you hurt?"

That person liked me, or at least had a heart. At the time, I said, "No." But here's what I say today:

"Yes, but for the last time."

Under the advice of my parents, I also told the principal and she got me five bucks from the kid for my broken lunch box. I duct taped the thing together and spent the five bucks on candy. 

This time, I don't need his five bucks, and I'm going to go buy myself a beer. Here's to happiness in small doses.