I hear voices. Okay, just one

voice, but I'm sure some of you hear it too. You know, that little

voice in your head that lets you know you're about to do something

that's gonna get you into a lot of trouble.

Some call it the voice of reason.

Others call the voice a conscience. I just call the voice Jim.

Jim has been around a long

time, and if I'd listen to him more often, I wouldn't get into

so much trouble. The first time I remember hearing him was way back in

the third grade.

During recess, Down the Street

Bully Brad told me that eating a bug would impress Candi. Jim said it

wouldn't. Jim was right. I took the little green grass hopper from

Brad, popped it in my mouth and started to chew. Candi ran away screaming.

It took all the way till the fifth grade before she would kiss me again.

I should've listened to Jim.

When I was eight, Twin Brother

Mark, Neighbor Thomas and I decided one afternoon we were going to jump

over Cripple Creek on our bikes. Cripple Creek ran behind Thomas's

house and fed the neighbor fishing lake that was behind ours, just above

the swamp. We rode our bikes up around the lake to where the creek flowed

into it. Thomas walked