The student newspaper of Bucks County Community College

The Centurion

The student newspaper of Bucks County Community College

The Centurion

The student newspaper of Bucks County Community College

The Centurion

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submission

Warren Aul
335 Candy rd.
Mohnton, PA.
19540

If you can use this at your normal rate of payment, I have some other columns I’d like to submit. If you can’t use it, just delete it.

Words-210

First impressions
Written By
Warren Aul

I called my good friend, Guy Poindexter the other day for a round of golf. Unfortunately he was busy, he had prier engagements. Then I got to thinking; it might be nice to have a few more friends in a situation like this. It’s difficult meeting new people that I would be willing to let into my life, for more than a few minutes. They usually have to meet a certain criterion.
g They can’t to be too funny. I don’t like to feel obligated to laugh, if I don’t want to.
g They can’t to be too knowledgeable, big turn off; nobody likes to be talked down to.
g They can’t be too ignorant that automatically gets two strikes because rude usually goes with it, hand in hand.
g They can’t get too profound like having an unending response to; isn’t it lovely weather were having? It usually starts me yawning.
g They can’t be too lively; with arms that go every which way when they speak, too dangerous.
g They can’t be too analytical. I don’t want everything I say analyzed and then diagnosed.
g Most of all, they can’t be too fussy. Those kinds of people are just too hard to please.

Words – 449

Where Are My Boots?
Written
By
Warren Aul
All the cartoon superheroes had them, special things that took them from being an average Joe to something special. Sinbad the sailor had a belt that he yanked on, which puffed his skinny, upper body into a bursting mass of might.
Hercules, although already a powerhouse, kept a ring in the waistband of his loincloth for the really tough jobs. He’d slip it on to his index finger and hold it up high over his head. Bolts of lightning would then strike it giving him a boost of godly strength.
Well I’m not a cartoon but I did have, for a while, a special item that gave me a little extra measure of something, too. Most all youngsters have something amongst their belongings they cherish more than anything else. Something they keep with them at all times, something they just wouldn’t be without. Maybe it’s a special Teddy bear, or a shirt they’ll wear through the whole ninth grade. The important thing is they feel more secure with it than without it.
For me, it was footwear. One day my father entered the house carrying a pair of green, fishing boots. They were the most perfect color of green that I had ever seen. A thin colored band of canary yellow whipped around the top, and then bordered the yellow lace that ran four holes deep, down the front.
My two brothers and me had been sitting in a half circle on the floor watching television when he came in. The boots dangled by his knee like a carrots on a stick. “Whomever they fit can have them,” he said, dropping them onto the floor and walking away. Following the abrupt outbreak of a small ruckus came protest. My younger brother threw his boot in contempt. It was too big. My still younger brother picked it up and put it on claiming it fit, even though it came off a few times as he paraded around the room. The boot I managed to snag however, fit perfectly.
The next time my brother’s boot came loose I grabbed it and inserted my foot. Custody was mine.
I wore those boots every day of that year, yes, even in the summer. In my mind they were an all occasion boot. They were streamlined, not big and bulky like the standard and most prevalent snow boot around those days. You know, the heavy, black ones with about fifteen clasps running from top to bottom.
The important thing was I thought they were cool. In addition to protecting against the elements, it gave me a mental boost, nothing bad could happen. I felt safe.
It would be nice to feel safe like that again. I think I’ll root around in the closet to see if I can find those old boots.