I met my first best friend Adolph in kindergarten at P.S. 84. He was playing all alone, hanging the hand puppets by the neck with the cords from the Venetian blinds. These were hand puppets of a mom and dad and children and a doctor and a mailman. I asked him how he got them to stay, and he showed me. You didn’t have to make a knot. If you twisted the cord around a couple of the times, the puppets would hang there.
Then the teacher told us to stop hanging the puppets by the neck.
Adolph always looked like he needed a bath. And he seemed to hate all the other kids in the class and the teacher, and I liked our teacher, Mrs. K. But he loved monsters like I did. We both said we would bring in models that we each made at home. So the next day I brought in a glow-in-the-dark model of Godzilla I made. Actually, my father did most of the work. And actually it was my brother’s model. But he never walked with me to school, so when I went I carried it very carefully because it was a beautiful thing and I did not want to break it and make my brother angry.
When I got there I put it on my desk. Right away, the teacher made me talk about it, which I hated. I didn’t want the other kids to know about my glow-in-the-dark Godzilla. It was mine. Who cared about them? I just brought it in to show to Adolph.
But then Adolph didn’t bring in anything! And he kept wanting to touch my glow-in-the-dark Godzilla, and so I let him play with him, but I was scared the whole time he would break it.
Later on when I got home I saw that Godzilla’s tongue was missing! My brother never noticed, or he never said anything. I vowed to never, never, never bring anything of mine to school again.
Anyway, Adolph became my best friend after that.