This is by far the oldest story of mine that I still have kicking around. I wrote it in school (sixth grade, maybe? I'm not really sure anymore) as part of a school-wide Safety Week thing. You could draw posters, or design a bumper sticker, or whatever - as long as it promoted safety somehow. I handed this in, and it went to whatever group of teachers did the judging. I won something, and was given a certificate thanking me for making the school a safer place. I can't help but think that if the same thing happened now I would be suspended and not allowed back until I went through therapy. I'm glad I made it through school before everyone got so nervous.
There once was a boy named Clyde. Clyde was an average American kid - he loved to ride on his skateboard, read comic books, and have fun with his friends. Every day after he got home from school, he would have milk and cookies and go out to the arcade. To get there he had to go along the cliff road, and his mother worried that he would be brutally maimed and horribly disfigured in an accident, because it was a very dangerous road. Every day before he went out, his mom would say, "Clyde darling, you know I worry, and It's just that..." She sighed. "You really should wear safety equipment so that you don't get brutally maimed or horribly disfigured." Clyde would always just say, "NO." and start to leave. Now, being a typical American mother, she would have pestered Clyde to death or grounded him until he agreed to wear safety equipment, but he always said he was going to be famous one day, and because she was such a supportive mother she was sure he would, and - knowing her son so well - she was worried that when he became famous he would write one of those tell-all books about her and she didn't want that.
Clyde stopped short of the door. A light went on in his brain and he started to think about just exactly what being brutally maimed and horribly disfigured involved. Fighting nausea, he turned. "You were right mom!" He said as he ran into his mother's open arms. "I'll never forget to wear safety equipment again. Kids should always listen to their moms, because they know best, and you might get brutally maimed or horribly disfigured if you don't." And they lived safely ever after.
Clyde closed the door and started skateboarding. It was a typical day at the arcade, and he had a good time converting all of his hard earned money into quarters and watching the machines eat them and pretend he hadn't given them any while the arcade manager chuckled darkly and pointed at the 'no refund' sign. Soon he started on his way home, and as he rode along the cliff road, a mac truck appeared from around the corner and almost plastered him onto the cliff and killed him. He managed to dodge it, but he fell and slid along on the rough pavement. He would have been okay, but because he wasn't wearing safety equipment, he skinned his knees and broke his nose. "Whew!" he thought. "I came really close to being brutally maimed and horribly disfigured. From now on I'll always wear safety equipment."
Clyde slammed the door and left. "Who needs all that safety junk?" he said. "I'm too smart to get brutally maimed or horribly disfigured." On his way home, he got hit by a truck. His head squashed through the grille and blood splattered on the windshield. The driver brought the truck to a screeching halt. The sudden jolt of the truck stopping sent Clyde flying through the air and off a cliff. There was a terrible crunching sound as Clyde's body hit the jagged rocks at the bottom - a pointy one plunged through his face with a sickening gurgle and another jabbed through his stomach. Yet even after being brutally maimed and horribly disfigured, he stayed barely alive until the next day when, screaming and moaning, he slowly dropped into eternal darkness muttering, "I should have worn safety equipment... I should have worn safety equipment..."