Laughing at My Nightmare by Shane Burcaw Read Free Book Online

Rolls.
    A few blocks down the road, everything was going well, and then out of nowhere, the back right wheel of my wheelchair decided that it had served its duties long enough and broke off from the axle of my chair. All of a sudden, I saw my right wheel rolling down the road in front of me. My chair sharply and immediately veered to the right, and I almost hit my dad, who didn’t even notice my wheel had fallen off. He thought I was just driving towards the curb to be funny, so he started to yell at me, but then he must have noticed the empty axle because he ran over and helped me turn my chair off.
    The giant street sweeper that cleaned up after the end of the parade was only about 30 feet behind us when this incident took place, so when it passed us, it gobbled up all the tiny pieces that held my wheel in place.
    My dad was barely able to guide my chair to the edge of the curb. A few people who were watching the parade and saw the events unfold came over to see if they could help in any way possible. Immediately, my dad became focused on figuring out a way to put my wheel back on—even if was only temporary—because the rain was picking up and I needed to get back to the van where we had left the poncho.
    As a joke, my dad asked if anyone had any rope. I will never forget the look on this random dude’s face as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a long, thin, rolled up piece of rope and said, “I do!” (Because carrying rope around in one’s pocket is such a normal thing to do.) Anyway, my dad miraculously fashioned some type of knot that held my wheel onto the axle long enough for me to make it back to the van.
    All in all it could have been a lot worse; the street sweeper could have eaten me alive, or I could have been walking in the parade on my own, or I could have crashed into an old woman and killed her, so I guess I can’t complain about how terrible that Halloween parade really was.

chapter 11
    slam dunk
    When I was in third grade, my family moved to a new house in a neighborhood not too far from the one I spent the beginning of my life in. That summer, Andrew and I met our new next-door neighbor, Pat, who was a year younger than me and would eventually grow up to be one of my closest friends.
    Neither of our families had a pool, and we were tired of spraying ourselves in the face with the hose, so we settled for shooting hoops in Pat’s backyard.
    His house had a wrap-around driveway, which created a large paved area in the back that was great for all types of sports. Pat’s family had recently installed a super-legit, glass-backboard basketball hoop that made us feel like we were training to someday play in the NBA. I can’t shoot a basketball, so I would usually just play defense and try to demolish my brother’s shins whenever he tried to shoot. I also set picks (blocked) like a monster. I once almost killed a kid at recess when he blindly ran full speed into one of my immovable wheelchair picks, but I digress (I love saying that).

    Pat’s usual attire
    Anyway, after a while one of us threw out the idea that it would be awesome if we could dunk. Of course that would be awesome; dunking was the coolest thing ever back in those days. Too bad that super-legit basket was also super-too-high for us children to reach. We even tried using a mini-workout trampoline to dunk, but we were just too young and short. By we, I mean them, I was just too much in a wheelchair to dunk.
    I am admittedly a very stubborn individual at times; when I get an idea in my head, I can be extremely annoying/pushy/relentless until I accomplish whatever I am trying to get done. This was one of those times. I knew there had to be a way to help my friends dunk. Before telling them my idea, I told Pat to go grab the long rope his parents kept upstairs in case they ever had to climb out a window during a fire. Don’t ask. Whether it’s a good or a bad trait, I am also pretty good at manipulating people; not in an evil way,