My name is Mickey Hadick. That’s spelled Ha, d-i-c-k. As in, hey. D—. It rhymes with attic, but everyone wants to say it more like two words.
I was teased in grade school, as you might imagine. Not because I was fat and wore “huskies” from Sears; not because I cried like an abandoned crack-baby every time it rained; no, not even because I had a crush on Ms. Anderson, my fourth grade techer. I was teased because of my name. The other children though it sounded dirty.
So the long and the short of it is that I’m thinking of having my name changed to avoid all the silliness. I’d still be the same person, but all the idiots in the world with an arrested sense of humor won’t be able to make fun of me. So instead of Mickey Hadick, I would be ‘Mickey Hadpenis.’