Disco Ball or Bust

This is the wristband from the second Our Lady Peace concert they played a month ag

o. Yes you are correct. I have worn this on my wrist for over a month. The concert was on May 8.

I went with all my siblings. We had a competition to see who could wear their wrist band the longest without it breaking. Almost everyone was gone by the next day. By the end of the weekend it was down to two people. It was just Derek and I left.

And that’s the way it’s been for a month.

It was awkward at first. People kept asking me what was up with it. People at church looked worried because it says “Drinking age verified” on it. But after a week or two everyone in all my social circles were up to speed on my ambitions to win the contest.

But what’s the prize?

Last week or so Derek stumbled upon the prize for the winner. My brother found a disco ball in the ditch. And yes, that is the coolest sentence I have ever typed. It was decided that the disco ball would be the prize for whoever was the last man with the wrist band on.

My wristband is looking weak. The white parts are no longer white. Every time I take my coveralls off at work it looses a little more strength. The end is near. I only need to last a little bit longer.

Right now the wrist band is messing with my mind. I have to force myself from not ripping it off. It’s made out of paper! How can I resist its taunts?

The other day I thought I heard it talking to me. It’s soaked up so much chemicals and such from work it’s either turned into its own life form or my brain is slowly being poisoned.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I win that disco ball.

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