“We’re Doing Africa Maps”

I recently relived one of the most terrifying memories stored in my small brain, and I just think it was such a traumatic event for me that I need to share it. Hopefully this story will be read as a cautionary tale, as I couldn’t imagine anyone having to go through the things I went through on this fateful day. I wouldn’t wish it on my greatest enemy.

Alright, so I bet you’re wondering what I’m on about. Let’s go back to Monday’s advisory. A few people, including one of my good friends, myself, and this kid who we’ll call Uniqua, are all playing cards. It’s an ordinary advisory, right? Nothing unusual. Eventually, the topic of discussion reaches our first impressions of each other.

The flashbacks began when Uniqua asked how I initially met him.

It was a brisk morning in January of 2017. I had moved to Hale in the beginning of the second semester of 6th grade, so at this point, I’m crapping my pants. I didn’t know anyone, nor my way around the school, and I had spent the entire day feeling more like an idiot than I already am. I was standing outside of Mrs. Ball’s class, preparing myself for the terror I would have to face after the 3rd period bell rang. As I’m failing to pysch myself up and instead silently crying, I see a smurf-like silhouette approaching in the distance. This oompa loompa lookin’ type thing stops in front of me and stares intently into my soul. As this happens, I’m quaking as I pray to whatever fuzzy purple monster is up in the sky that this new species of human standing in front of me doesn’t speak. Alas, my pathetic attempts at possible salvation come to a close as the smurf’s chapped lips opened and formed the most petrifying four words I have ever heard. He smiled and said, in an extremely lispy and feminine voice..

“We’re doing Africa mapth!”

My mind raced as I tried to figure out what the hell an Africa math is. I said, in my most polite and delicate voice I could muster, “P-Pardon?”

The voice repeated in the same drawl. The sub-human boy repeated the terrifying phrase, again telling me, “We’re doing Africa mAPTH!”

As I’m about to sprint as fast as I can in the opposite direction, some kid who’s name I don’t remember-bless their soul-informs me that what Uniqua was trying to say was that we’re doing Africa MAPS. A wave of relief washes over me at the presentation of this information. I mean, I still had no idea what an Africa map was to these people, but it was better than trying to decipher what an oompa-loompa smurf was saying.

Throughout the year, I was consistently warned about Uniqua’s odd and erratic antics. He continued to be questionable during the rest of 6th grade, as well as 7th and so far 8th. If you’re not convinced, as I write this, he’s prancing around the classroom like a ballerina. I don’t think much has changed.

DISCLAIMER: I have obtained Uniqua’s permission to publish this article, so just want to reiterate that if you’re reading this Uniqua, please don’t sue me.