I Am Better Than Your Kids - Maddox [5]
Yes, I can. Also, the assignment was to name your superpower, not to state its effect. If all superheroes used your naming convention, Spider-Man would be called “the Amazing I-Will-Capture-You-in-My-Web.”
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Jason, age 9
“. . . and I would call this superhero: Wolferine! It’s totally different from Wolverine. You see, Wolverine has a skeleton covered in the indestructible alloy adamantium. My skeleton would be covered in ‘metel,’ that is ‘indestruktibull.’ And whereas Wolverine fights villains with his metal claws, I will cut logs and sandwiches with my metel bars.”
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Keriann, age 5
Why are your windows filled with water from the top? You’re like the M. C. Escher of crappy children’s artwork, without the talent.
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Caleb, age 6
Your dream house floats six feet above the ground. This would be a good time to tell you that the “you-can-do-anything-you-want” line teachers have been telling you is a lie. The Universal Law of Gravitation isn’t just a technicality. Someday, while at your desk job, when you realize that you never became rich or famous, I hope you remember this drawing and regret making it.
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Michael, age 5
I imagine this is what the conversation with the architect would sound like: “How much extra for a room with bickering monkey people? Also, is it possible to have a wall with a pool that floats vertically with a shark in it? And just one more thing, I promise this is the last one: could you put King Kong in a room? Thanks.” Not a single thing in this house is plausible, with the exception of you standing around saying, “I got the power.” I guess you could do that.
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Jenny, age 5
If you had a giant money bin, why would you want to broadcast that to thieves? This isn’t Duck Tales, and thieves in the real world aren’t into mischief like the Beagle Boys. Instead of being outwitted by a miserly old uncle and his three nephews, criminals in the real world usually die in a hail of gunfire after they’ve taken you hostage for ransom in a building they’ve set on fire. The only way to identify your remains afterward will be by your dental records. So think before you brag next time, Jenny.
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Duke, age 4
Boring.
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Beverly, age 6
The rooms-to-bathrooms ratio in this house sucks. One bathroom for every 50 guests would cause people to defecate in the hallways.
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Morgan, age 8
This gave me the eye equivalent of a nosebleed.
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Beth, age 4
Nobody likes your poopy.
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Sharon, age 4
Your dad went through years of school and possibly college, maybe met your mom at work and thought she was cute. He probably spent weeks seducing her and finally getting into her panties on the third date. At some point they both agreed independently that they couldn’t do better, and decided to have a child. Your mom carried you around for nine months, spent twenty-four-plus hours in a delivery room going through great pain, while your dad footed the bill and worked extra hours to make ends meet. And four years after you pop out of your mother’s vagina, you present this wrinkly piece of shit drawing? I’d be feeling pretty ripped off if I were your parents.
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Jeremie, age 5
Google maps has nothing on this.
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Marshall, age 5
This actually seems like an appropriate house for someone of your ability. I see this house and think: the universe is just.
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Rolex, age 9
The left side starts out pretty awesome: you have a cool castle with a moat, a silhouette of a mysterious man—possibly a detective—wearing a derby hat, El Diablo in the top window, and ominous eyes behind the drawbridge. But as you get to the right side, Rolex, it looks like you kind of started to phone it in.
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Linda, age 4
This is supposed to be a grocery store, and it proves that even abstract art can be concretely shitty.
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Jasmine, age 7
This was Jasmine’s attempt at designing the new World Trade Center in New York. Here’s how it would look in the New York skyline:
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Eddie, age 11
This sketch of the New York harbor was done by Eddie, age 11. The drawing inspired Eddie’s brother,