22 He cursed his parents and his unfortunate name.

Says:

He cursed his parents and his unfortunate name. He saw a rock laying on the road in front of him and picked it up. He threw it as hard as he could and it landed just short of his parent’s window. The dogs started barking and he could hear his dad start to yell.

“O’Bannon. Why the hell did I have to be Irish,” he muttered to himself tugging at his thick red hair. He had tried bleaching it, dying it, buzzing it, but it always came back, usually within a couple weeks.

Two neighborhood kids road up on their bikes and skidded to a stop in front of him. “Hey, Scotty. Want to help us find a pot of gold under the rainbow?” They both laughed before the taller one continued: “What’s the matter? Looks like you need a kiss from the blarney stone.”

They pushed him over and rode off. As Scott O’Bannon lay in the road with his nose bleeding, he thought to himself about how the world got it all wrong. People may think that black people and Hispanics have it rough, but being Irish is just about as bad it gets. He smiled and thought to himself, “At least I’m no Spaniard.”