Nigel is dead
We had all been told that we had to be careful around Nigel. He wasn't allowed to eat chocolate, or drink delicious fizzy pops. Earwax was OK - he'd shovel that stuff straight in. He didn't eat bogeys, though - he stored those in his pencil case.
One morning our teacher walked in ashen faced and quietly explained that Nigel would not be coming to school any more. He had moved a long way away.
Our bewildered but trauma-free response clearly wasn't enough for her, as she let out the cry "Nigel is DEAD!".
Unable to process this early brush with mortality as a tragedy, we'd simply echo her heartfelt outburst in the playground, to punctuate a wide range of antics. In some cases, this would continue well into our twenties.
Nigel is still dead.
One morning our teacher walked in ashen faced and quietly explained that Nigel would not be coming to school any more. He had moved a long way away.
Our bewildered but trauma-free response clearly wasn't enough for her, as she let out the cry "Nigel is DEAD!".
Unable to process this early brush with mortality as a tragedy, we'd simply echo her heartfelt outburst in the playground, to punctuate a wide range of antics. In some cases, this would continue well into our twenties.
Nigel is still dead.
written by Gu*rns*y Gw*pp*rd, approved by Log