Why I am the "way I am" part 2

After fleeing the earthquake ravaged valley we somehow moved upward to a trailer park. This trailer residential area molded me at my most vulnerable. Not only did I learn to end friendships when uncomfortable but that people are an acquired taste. Being that I had not ever heard or read anything about Winnie the Poo hearing kids talking about him made me feel like I was in the trailer home of an alien species. Apparently my parents either didn’t know he existed also or simply thought.. eh. Then to reinforce my woes another child requested to make an exchange of buggers to taste for comparison. I assume she has grown into the perfect flavor tester or a Winnie the Pooh collecting savant.

There was a community center in the serial killer side of the park. This cult/community center once had everyone dressed as bible characters which seems odd to me. I was Eve in fig leaves and my picture is probably currently somewhere on the dark web. I had my fill of those trailer park comrades and no patience for their shenanigans. This would have been a better time and location for that earthquake.

I took those life lessons and played alone in my tiny trailer park yard accessible only by the steps of death. Those steps made of sharp rocks formed into a slab and then placed at the ideal distance to thin the toddler herd. It was scientifically impossible to climb those stairs and continue to carry any amount of skin on your shins. I think along with the purchase of those flimsy trailer homes with their unnecessarily heavy steps they should have included shin guards, called them “skin guards” and gave them a Winnie the Pooh motif. There is probably enough DNA left on those steps to frame me for several of their serial killings.