Pre-teen Plague Threat Attributed To The Fairer Sex

School girls are required to wear special masks to prevent spread of girl germs.

I know it shouldn't be necessary for a six-year-old to wear latex gloves, a face mask, and carry around packets of mint-scented anti-bacterial handwash. The cellophane shoe covers seemed unnecessarily excessive. But girl-germs were everywhere, and of course, with girl-germs there were no returns.

I had personally witnessed the debilitating effects of girl germs. I saw how they had decimated my little friend Darryl. A month ago, a girl had poked him in the chest during recess. Reflexively he withdrew, hitting his head on the twisty slide, and had subsequently run away screaming in terror. It was obvious to me that he had been infected by a simple touch from this elementary school succubus. The way that girl had been waving her finger around like a poison needle, I knew the attack had been calculated and deliberate.

Darryl recovered, physically, but I know he still carries the mental scars from that vicious feminine assault.

I had heard of the girl germ pandemic that had spread through the Grade 4 class faster than the rumour of a new Pokemon movie. I remembered the day like it was yesterday, which it was actually. There was an unusual report of chaos and disorder that had broken out during a scheduled square-dancing activity in the gymnasium. Girl germs had been attributed as the obvious cause of this chaotic viral event.

Boys wear special equipment to prevent girl germ infections.

It was for the Darryls of the schoolyard that I dared to venture forth into the playground today, refusing to accept that these so-called girls could inflict so much hurt with so little effort. Admittedly, I wanted to avoid this situation like the plague (which it was in a way), but if I stayed away today, then the girls would have already won.

Surely science could find an answer for these cootie-based contaminants? I would almost be willing to sacrifice my six-year-old body to science, if a cure could be found from the remains of my withered, girl-germed carcass. Scientists could use the girl germ antibodies to develop a fruit-flavored serum to help my boyhood brethren fend off these fatal feminine superbugs.

What bothered me though, was that I had seen older children, the teens, mingling together (boy and girl) without ill effect. Was there then already a cure? Or perhaps an immunity developed over time, the boys somehow acquiring a resistance to girl germs. Perhaps the girls lost their natural defense mechanisms when they reached maturity. Was this then just a necessary process of nature?

I was ready to traverse the short length of gravel that separated the school pavement from the metal playground jungle, when I spotted three young females congregating around the swings. They were at ease, and appeared to be applying a type of sparkly, glossy gel to their lips. Likely, this was another weapon in their female arsenal.

Bravely, I stepped off the pavement, intent on fulfilling my playground purpose. But at that moment, the girls sensed my presence, turning their heads towards me in eerie unison, like a scene from some bodysnatching movie. They smiled demurely. It felt like they were admiring me like a pride of lionesses would admire a crippled antelope, or perhaps even a kudu. My urge to flee was suddenly overwhelming. I looked nervously towards the monkey bars one more time, and then slowly back at the hungry-eyed girls. "Sorry Darryl!" I yelled, and I bolted back inside the school as fast as my little legs could carry me. Not today girl germs...not today.