Miss Petunia made a remark concerning The Play List.

I thought, "Play List? What is she talking...oh!"

The poor list had been pushed so far down on my sidebar that I had forgotten its existence.

"Out of sight, out of mind" is going to be carved on my tombstone.

Time to lay some of them to rest.

#5: Little Guillermo Breaks Into His Own House (Unsuccessfully)

When I was in the seventh grade, my mother had insisted that I learn to play some sort of instrument. My school, Gililland, offered an orchestra class, so I was enrolled in that.

All of us kids had to play something. My older brother Miguel played the bass, I played the violin, and Donaldo played the cello. Barbara ended up in band somehow and played (and can still play) an assortment of wind instruments.

Luis used to always carry around a guitar when he was younger. His latest musical aspiration was to play the drums. My theory is that he just wanted to hit things with sticks.

I hated the violin. I enjoy violin music, but the noises I would produce did not fall under this definition.

I was proud when I would finally master a song (usually much later than everyone else in the class) but it wasn't enough to keep me motivated.

I also disliked lugging around the violin case. Except on concert days when I would have to dress up. Then I would pretend there was a tommy-gun inside and I would strut around loudly demanding that everyone pay up their "protection" money.

Eh...right. One morning my siblings and I trudged to our bus stop; up the block and around the corner. I stood there waiting for a minute before I realized that I was without the tortured-cat-audio-simulator that I called a violin. I ran back to my house, my backpack thudding against my back.

I crossed the front lawn and tugged at the door knob. No-go, the door was locked. I don't have time for this! The bus is going to leave without me! I'll just slide this window open and climb in the way I always do when I'm locked out.

I pressed my palms against the glass.

Hmm....it isn't sliding. Could it be locked? Maybe it's stuck. I'll try a little harder...

Then the window imploded. I was bathed in a rain of sparkling slivers.

My left hand was the only part of me that actually made it inside my house that morning.

I stood there trying to figure out what to do next. I wasn't in very much pain, but there seemed to be an awful lot of blood gushing out of my left hand. My right hand and arm had fared better, with only little, trickling cuts.

This left hand had me worried, though.

I certainly couldn't get into my house now. I wanted to call my mom at work, but I wasn't even sure if I had the number. The neighbors that I knew were also at work.

I was certain that the school bus had already came and went, but it was my only option. I walked slowly up the street, my arms out mummy-like so that I wouldn't get my blood on my clothes.

I turned the corner and was almost surprised to see the bus waiting for me. I was only almost surprised because after what had just happened nothing would probably surprise me for a while.

I could sense the driver's irritation as I continued my deliberate walk towards the bus. The doors folded open as I approached. I stuck my head around the side and asked, "Excuse me, do you have a first-aid kit or something?" I could feel the driver narrow her eyes even through her giant 80's sunglasses.

"What?"

I held out my bloody arms in apology.

The bus took me to school. The nurse cleaned me up. My mother was called. She came and picked me up and took me to the doctor.

It was fun. The doctor gave me a shot so that I wasn't able to feel my hand at all.
I watched intently as he sewed up the worst of it, which turned out to be my ring finger. The rest of my cuts required little more than adhesive bandages.

It was an interesting experience, and not without benefits. I got to miss a day of school. I got cool stitches to gross out my friends.

But the best part, by far, was having a doctor's note that said I didn't have to play the violin for three whole weeks.