One Big World-One Small Calvin

His name was Charlemagne. Actually, his name was Calvin Hyvus, he just went by Charlemagne. He didn’t like his first or last name, so he just took the 1st letters of both and built from there, which was a pretty standard procedure in his town, Stankonia. Coincidentally, Charlemagne was already the name of a prominent French hero, he’d just never heard of him before. His life was fraught with uncanny coincidences, yet even he didn’t realizes most of those occurrences. For instance, he hadn’t realized that his hair was the same exact color as the chef coats he saw on television. Yes, that’s right, he had white hair. Well, more accurately, the constantly disheveled and rather lifeless item that covered his skull was formally referred to, as “hair”, however, the fact that anyone under the age of 80 could have grown something like that on their head is rather debatable. You should know, he watched those darn shows cooking every, single, day. Whether it was “Bohemian Ice Sculpting for Formal Gatherings”, or “Cuisenaire for the Colorblind”, cooking shows always filled his television screen. Speaking of which, that’s actually how this story began; only today he was watching “Ming’s Dynasty of Victuals” because he had a dish to prepare for Chinese class.
He had fetched all of the necessary ingredients on his kitchen counter and carefully arranged them in the shape of a calculator. He followed the chef’s every move, and complied with the instructions, at least to the best of his abilities. However, Charlemagne was not an able bodied lad. He had the body mechanics of a Neanderthal and the actual motor skills of a decrepit WWII Veteran. His facial expressions were even more crazed; just the catching a glimpse of his contorted face felt had just beheld some unwieldy sight.  on your eyes   It was as though he had been asked something like, “on a scale of one to ten, what kind of vegetable would you be?” so there he sat at school, church, the dinner table or what have you, with his mouth in a side-swiped cock as though he was under complete bewilderment and constipated distress.
He walked to school, lunchbox in one hand, concoction in the other, and a spanking new sac pack firmly strapped to his front (he believed that was ergonomically ideal). He arrived breathless, ran into class, and realizing he was unfashionably late, he proceeded to the front of the strangely dim classroom and began to give his oral presentation on Chinese cuisine. He had just finished describing the wrist technique used to stir the soup, when he noticed the rather bizarre atmosphere originating from 32 pairs of bewildered eyeballs before him. He slowly turned his head, only to find a man with 2 quizzical eyes and a nametag that read “GUEST- Dr. Swenson: OBGYN”.
At that moment, a variety of questions entered into Charlemagne’s cranium. For example, why was a “Dr. Swenson” in his Chinese classroom? Furthermore, why was he standing next to a television that was showing what looked like Jaws devouring an alien, occasionally interrupted by a screaming woman? He peered back at the class, receiving more intensified glares and feeling their gradually increasing vicious wishes. They were looks that only truly confounded students could give, perhaps wondering why they had just sustained a 7-minute oration in Mandarin from a small boy who wasn’t even enrolled in their class. Realizing his error, Charlemagne lifted his radioactive colored plastic Tupperware, which contained his “Origami Soup,” and exited the room in a most hurriedly manner.
After returning to the Health class to retrieve his sac pack that he had accidentally left behind, he retreated to his normal sanctuary by the outdoor squash courts. He felt it wasn’t worth it to go to what time was left of Chinese class. Disgusted with himself once again, he threw what he thought to be his “Origami Soup” into the creek, which in fact was his new HULK sac pack. After fishing his bag out, he became further disheartened to find that Hulk now bore a strange resemblance Arnold Schwarzenegger with a dreadful case of jaundice. In reality (which Charlemagne was usually far from), it had been a relatively normal day for him.
At least it hadn’t been as bad as the time he unexpectedly woke up suspended from the flagpole by his skivvies. However, he did have one thing to look forward in his day; perhaps the one thing that kept him from leaving early from school everyday, Miss Stein Maffewz. She was an astronomy professor, who (unbeknownst to him) lacked the hand-eye coordination to apply lipstick to within a 3-inch proximity of her actual mouth, spoke in a dialect which was indefinable by everyone including her own family, and who reeked of other objectionable geriatric mannerisms. All he saw was a mature being that emanated the sweet aroma of learning, while explaining gravitational pull. Squinting down at one of his 5 watches, he found that it would be another 2 hours till he would enter her presence for 7th period Astronomy for the Visually Deranged. Alas, he would just resort to his usual pastime, holding staring contests with salamanders, dragonflies, and the like. In short time, consciousness had slipped from his grasp, and he nodded off.
There he was, surrounded by a congregation of creek-dwelling fauna, with his back against his sullied sac pack, and rested head on the “Origami Soup” container. It was now 8 o’clock at night, he was sleeping soundly, but the sad thing is, no one even noticed when that he hadn’t come yet. After all, he was only an elfin youngster born into a world that was far too big for him to survive in.