The Happy Gun

Raindrops of perspiration streaked down my forehead like Trojan warriors stampeding down a war-torn battlefield. My tensed nerves made me shake like a helpless flag seized in a mid-August hurricane. One minute later, the baseball team I had played and practiced with all summer silently walked off the sun-engulfed field, outraged by our sudden loss. No one dared to speak, yet the silence in the summer air pierced all our hearts. This is why I believe being optimistic is the best way to think. It abolishes high-strung situations and makes everyone happier.

This idea is a re-occurring theme in my short life. An example I remember happened last summer. My baseball team was facing elimination in the playoffs, seeking our first win all year. We were all on our toes, envisioning a third out to generate another inning. The white sphere pinged off the aluminum bat and I watched as it hopped along the weed-infested grass and straight through our shortstop’s crouched legs. Game over.

While everyone else moped and groaned, I decided it wasn’t too terrible. After all, we did get ice cream cones for a hard-worked season!

Another reminder of this belief occurred last year, with my heifer, Tejada. My usually tame cow happened to be obese. I mean REALLY fat. Tejada got dead-last in every single class but one, but I was in school the day she did win! Still, I got an $80 premium for showing her, so I made up my mind and chose to shut up and smile.

In addition to sports and agriculture, looking on the brighter side of life came to effect when I was a waiter at a banquet. Sadly, my annoying, book-worm sister was my partner in service, and it was my turn to carry the tray. We served everyone their soups safely and efficiently, but of course, on the way back, another waitress was bringing out her tan tray. I instinctively carried the partially-loaded tray over a diner’s head, saving time.

If you are laughing at my stupidity, I hate you. If you understand my viewpoint, you’re the first to do so.

Anyways, my sister chose to focus on my dumbness, as all siblings do.

“What were you thinking?!”

“Huh?”

“You don’t carry a tray over some innocent person’s head!”

My sister reamed me out, but I looked at the good side: there were zero casualties and no spilled stew.

The most recent reminder came from the golf course. See, my dad and I like to go golfing just for fun. I kept bugging my dad, and we finally hit the tees. The spring day we went, it was raining non-stop. We were soaked after the first few holes, but we still had fun. Even better, I demolished my father by ten or so strokes.

Throughout my 12-year life, I have learned an important lesson: Positive thinking is the trigger on the gun of happiness. Believe me.