The day the men in black showed up on my doorstep changed my life forever.

Man, that sounds so corny. I must apologize ahead of time; this journal thing is going to be full of clichés, stereotypes and will most definitely be very weird.

Anyway, you may ask, "What were the men in black doing on your doorstep, Tim?" Go on, ask. Nobody? Well, I'll tell you anyway.

See, it turns out that the baseball I hit in our team’s championship last season wasn't exactly on a trajectory that made it actually possible for me to hit it. They got this tape somewhere that shows the ball being sucked toward the bat like they were both a couple of magnets. Big deal, right? That's what I thought. Turns out that was the freaky straw that broke the camels in black's back.

My first year of middle school, last year, this creep tried to stuff me in a locker. It didn't work too well because I'm not exactly a shrimp, but eventually he succeeds and ha ha, very funny, Tim is locked in the locker. Everybody thinks it's just hilarious and then leaves for lunch, except the 8th grade girl the locker belongs to. She apparently wanted the books I was currently standing on. All of a sudden, the door pops open and smacks her in the face. Of course, I thought it just popped open from the pressure.

I say so, but that doesn't get me anywhere with the rather sinister characters currently sitting in my living room. Add this to the fact that the recess bells at my elementary school worked just fine when I was home sick, but always went off late at the end of my recesses when I was there. By this time, I 'm starting to think these guys have a point and wondering if they are going to skewer me with it.

"What do you want?" my mom demanded.

"Well, you've got a few options Ma'am. Uncle Sam likes spoon benders, like Tim, in one place where he can keep an eye on them. You can send him alone, and we'll find a home for him, or you can go together."

"That's two, not a few," my mom snapped.

"The third choice is letting somebody have this tape, and somebody kidnapping and exploiting your son." They looked disturbingly okay with that.

Needless to say, neither option one nor three looked good to Mom. We moved.