We heard the back door slam but didn’t stop jumping on the beds. A few short minutes later we heard a loud commanding voice: “Shut up you jerks.” Very loud considering it was coming from downstairs in the kitchen. The frenetic playing did stop when the voice was in the room with us: “Get the stick.” He said this incredibly loud with a look on his face scarier than a hockey mask. One of us had to go down on the back porch and grab the notorious stick, which held up a window, and gently hand it to him. Then back to our frozen-in-place position. He would hold the stick in the air and threaten us with it. He literally scared the shit out of my little brother once, who showed it to me while it was all still in his underpants.
My mother was was going to die in the hospital. My brothers were their when she pointed at me and said in a scary voice, you are a liar. She said it three times. It creeped me out I said I hadn’t lied and I was not a liar. Then she sat up ,threw up, and said I was a big fat liar. I left the room, she was very worn down and out of her mind. I never watched a horror movie called The Exorcist again . It had been one of my favorites
My expensive Boscov’s underwear are untidy in my old cherry dresser. They have never been straight. I haven’t the patience to finish the job–that has always been OK with me.
I’m not the boss though: even in my room, my dogs run things. Ruby, my Aussie has a bark so loud and shrill I must leave the room if she won’t stop. Louie the 14th, my Petite Basset Griffon Vendeen can have such a dreadful smell both breath and body that I have to clean and clean. It’s worth it to have their loving company and they don’t care about well-organized drawers.
My Aussie wakes me at 6 am with a wet lick to my lips. This is a reminder from my love puppy that if I don’t take her out she may pee on the bed. Twenty degrees, out I tread lightly across forty feet of icy ground. I praise the love of my life as she goes, reciting the words “poo-poo, very good girl, poo-poo.” Back into bed with my winter parka still on, snug as a bug in a rug.
We sat on a circle of rocks covered with moss a vivid green. The embers of our fire glowed red hot. High powered medicinal sour diesel OG kush lifted our spirits. A near nirvana moment. We celebrated the new season. Grateful for what we have. Strengthening our souls and minds for whatever comes next.
In my high school we rural kids would go out to a dark country road and get wasted. There was plenty of beer, usually I would have at least a twelve pack. We had weed, we had cocaine. When you couldn’t stand you could go sit in your car. Often a cheerleader, a quarterback or a big defensive tackle was right next to you. We were all bonding. There was a lot of love of living on that road. Soon we would graduate, go our separate ways, not realizing those were our glory days.
As Heavyweight for the TJ Patriots, I took on all comers. Jim was a big farm-raised brute from Westminster, six feet six and three hundred pounds. I was five feet seven, two hundred twenty-five pounds soaking wet. This brute had a thick beard and so did his mother in the stands.
I had eaten a whole sub in the locker room given to me by our 98 pounder. I didn’t feel like wrestling. When my teammates showed me who I had to wrestle I made a scared look and let out a fart. I was always clowning. The brute actually caused me to lose consciousness somewhere in the third round. Everybody thought I was clowning. When I came to I gave a thumbs up and hugged one of the cheerleaders.