As a kid i watched and waited. And waited and once in a fit of rage kicked our television set. Romper Room to me was a favorite television show of mine that became an instrument of torture. My favorite part was the Magic Mirror segment, where she holds the mirror up and says random names and looks directly at you. I was transfixed. I once write to the show begging for them to say my name...to fall on deaf ears of a six year olds plea, well is just cruel. So I watched and that bitch never said my name. I am sure I was not the only one whom waited with baited breath in hope that you were lucky enough to hear your name spoken on television. Sadly, mine never was. So I swore revenge. And thus, me being forsaken by my beloved show as a kid help shape the sour puss, jaded, drunken forlorn soul standing before you. Being that I am an antique, pushing in at close to the big 41..A generation of Henry's was dismal..as to say the year was 1968 and slew of Michelle's were born due to the Beatles' song that very year.
I would show her, I'd show them all! Just who did that cunt thick she was anyways! Cue music and dramatic lighting. And if that bitch ever crossed my path I would give her such a pinch! So I vowed to be special and not seek some vaidation with the normal. Fuck you Ropmer Room! I swore I would be un Romper Room and forsake the good boy rule of thumb. I be the bad kid, the naughty boy and the bad seed. I would draw up my own rules and make my own magic mirror.... So there you have it. This is a little secret about me and the event that helped shape me in my formative years.
If only she said my name I may have truned out a different guy all together? Probably not!
Who Knows?
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