The Rules of the Game

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I entered the grounds to the sight of madness – a swarm of boys squeezed into the spinner (a contraption that you stand in and get spun till you’re giddy with thrill) which was rotating, but certainly not spinning, as a painstakingly slow pace. Not to any surprise of mine, of course. And now, the boy who’d complained about it being ‘no fun at all’ when I was around to organize them will have to take his words back. Clearly, fun happened when everyone plays by the rules.

All these angsty teenagers talking about their lack of freedom have no idea what doom anarchy spells.

I should know. I was one of them.

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