Monday, December 5, 2011

The Sheriff's Badge

Read or purchase the series at The Gifted Book Series
My grandpa was never a Sheriff, but I did get a Sheriff’s badge while going to see him. I was around five or six years old and my mom and I were in the airport, getting ready to fly down to Missouri to spend a week with my grandparents. Being the awesome mom that she was, she stopped in the airport gift shop and bought me a little something to amuse myself. It was one of those Old West kits that came with a badge, a red-tipped silver pistol, and a gunbelt. My mom wouldn’t let me take the gun on the plane (even way back in 1980-something!), but I made her pin the badge to my shirt. I was very cool. I know because the stewardess said so as I strutted onto the plane.
But as we walked down the aisle of the plane, looking for our seats, we passed two eight-or-so-year-old kids who had already found theirs. They must have seen my badge as I came down the aisle because they were laughing and before we even passed them, I heard the boy say, “Look, here come’s the Sheriff!” and they continued laughing.
They thought they were so funny, but I was just embarrassed. My pride had been crushed and for the first time, I felt silly.
But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of letting them see me take off the badge. I waited until we had passed them before I unclipped it and tossed it underneath one of the empty seats.
Read or purchase the series at The Gifted Book Series

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