OH DAT IRONY

After reading Daniel Yoon's post and hearing about how Sachin wrote a rap, I wanted to one-up them blog post-wise. And so begins my story titled "OH DAT IRONY" (keep in mind that I literally JUST came up with this idea 3 minutes ago and have done no pre-writing whatsoever.) (also, does punctuation go inside or outside the parentheses?)<<like that.


OH DAT IRONY

2014
She was dead.

2007
Little Maggie was born on July 7, 2007 in room 107. She weighed 3.37359 kilograms, which is around 7 lbs and 7 oz. Her mother, Jill (what a horribly bland name), had a perfect pregnancy. No morning sickness. No unusual cravings. No painful kicking. Labor lasted an hour and was perfectly painless. Little Maggie was the child that every mother dreamed of. She had 2 older siblings. Her sister, Jenny, was 5, and her older brother, Bobby, just cleared 3 and a half years old. Jill and her high-school-sweetheart-turned-husband, Tom, both had stable jobs. She worked as a receptionist at a law firm; him, at an insurance company. After Little Maggie was born, Jill considered working as a stay-at-home mom, but she was worried about how that would affect the family financially. One Tuesday afternoon, Tom came home bursting with joy. He got a promotion that would slightly increase the family's income. That was all the incentive that Jill needed. She quit the next day. Little did she know, her boss stepped down 2 days later, leaving her position for grabs. Jill would have gotten that position had she not quit.

2008
Little Maggie was now 1 year old. She had just recently begun crawling, attempting to reach into any and every crevice in sight. One day an electrical outlet moved into Little Maggie's sight.

ZZT!


Tom had just baby-proofed the house the day before. He wouldn't have missed that electrical outlet had he not been distracted by Little Maggie's incessant crawling.

2009
Little Maggie was now 2 years old. She graduated from crawling around the living room to climbing the stairs at every chance. It was chilly. Little Maggie was wearing socks. She stepped up too quickly.
And fell.
Two days before, Jill had cleaned the stairs so Maggie wouldn't trip on any of the toys that were laying haphazardly around. On a whim, Jill used a new cleaner to polish up the hardwood steps.

2014
Little Maggie was now 7 years old. Lucky seven. She was well acquainted with bumps and bruises. Minor injuries seemed to always appear every year. Fortunately, these wounds did not hamper her love for adventure. One day out in the backyard, Little Maggie was playing with her siblings, Jenny and Bobby. They were playing catch. The ball flew up too high after one mighty throw from Bobby. Little Maggie with her adventurous spirit offered to retrieve the ball from single tree in the yard. At this time, Jill and Tom stood from afar, embracing each other. They praised their good luck with children and thanked the fact that they were blessed with kids that never fought and were perfectly companionable.

Just so perfect.

At this precise moment, Little Maggie reached just a smidgen too far. And fell. On her right side.
Her entire right side was shattered, almost perfectly down the middle...

And that was how Tom and Jill ended up with the white picket fence, suburban house,
and two and a half kids.