by Doug Burrell

Created on: August 27, 2008

The Life and Times of a Boy named Doug, as Told by Doug Himself

Chapter 1

Being Birthed

Used to be I wasn't always was. Before I was was, I wasn't. That is until my momma made me was when she birthed me. I reckon' I've been was for 35 years now.

I was born in a very famous city called Baltimore. It's in Maryland, which, I suppose, was named after some lady named Mary. (But, I'm not certain about that.) I had a very nice childhood. I had an older brother and sister to play with and I was very much loved, too. My momma told me that though she didn't plan on me, she reckoned that as far as mistakes went, she could've done worse than me. She's real sweet like that.

I was pretty, too. My grandma said I had a face that would stop traffic. Now, I don't mean to brag, but don't you suppose that one would have to have a handsome head in order to stop moving cars passing by on the street?

My fondest memory growing up in Baltimore was getting an ice-cream from the ice-cream truck everyday. When I heard the truck coming, I'd go inside and get momma and she'd tell me to stay inside and don't come out for two minutes. I don't know how she managed to get all that free ice-cream, but she always came back inside and brushed her teeth before she ate hers. That ice-cream man was an odd sort of fella. He told me once that my momma could stuff a whole popsicle down her throat. He seemed to be right happy about it for some reason. She would never show me how she did it, though.

We stayed in Baltimore until I was seven, at which time we moved to North Carolina and my whole world changed.

Chapter 2

My Schoolin'

The town we moved to was called Whiteville. Contraire to what my momma believed, it was not called such because it was a village of white people. In fact, it was inhabited by folks of all colors. And, it wasn't so much a village as it was a small town. To this day, I don't know why it's called that.

I started school when I was in Whitville. I later found out that most kids start kindergarten when they're five, but momma thought I should wait until I was seven on account that she needed someone around the house to wake her up when The Price is Right came on. It didn't matter, though. As it happened, school was easy for me. I would go each day and sit down in a chair and wait for three o'clock to come. Then I'd go home. It wasn't until I was in second grade that I learned the building I went to each day was an abandoned DMV office. The school was a block away. I always wondered why I was

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