[[BoxJam comes up to Little BoxJam who is sitting beside his skateboard looking angry]]
Little BoxJam: AUGHH! I still can't land a 520! I can't do anything right!
BoxJam: Son, let me tell you a story...
[[A small BoxJam standing beside an older kid wearing a sash and sunglasses]]
BoxJam: "When I was a boy, being on the safety patrol was about the coolest thing you could be. You got to wear a bright orange belt slung devil-may-care-fashion over your shoulder."
[[a slightly larger BoxJam standing beside another safety patrol kid]]
BoxJam: It was your responsibility to hand out demerits if somebody created disorder --three demerits and you reported them! It was a job held with honor and dedication..."
[[a much taller BoxJam standing next to another safety patrol kid]]
BoxJam: Only sixth-graders could be safety patrols. When I was in fifth grade, I wondered if I'd be chosen. I wasn't a perfect kid, my
grades were alright, but I was the only kid going into sixth grade in my neighborhood..."
[[an older BoxJam standing next to an vanishing sash]]
BoxJam: When I got to sixth grade, they decided they'd rather
not have patrols in my neighborhood than ask me to be one."
Little BoxJam: What does that have to do with me landing a 520?
BoxJam: What's a "520"?