Years ago, back when I was in college, I was better at hauling kegs than carrying a courseload.
My GPA was horrifying.
However, I was making good cash running parties, so I figured I could buy my way out of the mess I’ve made.
I caught the professor at one of the parties, a Wheel Of Fortune-themed party, and I told him “I know I’m getting an F, but I’d like to buy a vowel, please.”
Five hundred bucks, it cost me.
That night, the professor shacked up with a Freshman and got fired. His TA turned in the F.
Tag: childhood
Smithereens
The kids built an airship, rigging bicycles and peach-crates to a massive solar-heated airbag with a lightweight steering and ballast system.
After a few test flights and an inspection by the county engineer, I gave them permission to take it to school.
“Check the forecast,” I said. “If there’s any chance of rain, you’re taking the bus or walking.”
They used to ride their bikes, but those were now a part of the airship.
Pedaling quickly, they rise into the air gracefully.
That’s when I see their bookbags still on the porch.
Little scamps!
I run for a dangling tether-rope.
The Shoe Tree
My parents resisted the temptation to give sarcastic answers to my stupid questions, but they caved in every so often.
“They grow on trees,” my mother said, exhausted from my asking where shoes come from for the tenth time that morning. “In fact, the tree on the corner is a shoe tree.”
She pointed to the plum bush.
“Why don’t I see shoes on it?” I asked.
“They grow at night,” said my dad. “Neighbors steal them.”
I spent a week camped out on the lawn, trying to stand guard over the shoe tree.
I got a case of pneumonia.
The Pool
I was walking to the pool when my mother yelled “You just ate, so don’t go swimming.”
Oh. Right.
Don’t swim within half an hour of eating or you’ll get cramps.
So, instead of swimming, I ran around the pool.
“No running around the pool!” my mother yelled.
So, I stopped running around the pool.
Instead, I ran around the house with scissors.
“Are you crazy?” my mother shouted. “Never run around the house with scissors!”
So I went outside and ran around the pool with scissors for thirty minutes.
And dove into the shallow end, scissors firmly in hand.
I, Monster
When Sesame Street shut down, nobody knew what to do with the Muppets.
Some adapted quickly. Grover headed for The Castro with Bert and Ernie.
Guy Smiley’s on Oprah’s network. And Count Von Count is riding the vampire craze.
Others, well… they failed.
Sherlock Hemlock got killed working a case. Snuffleupagus ended up in a circus cage.
And Cookie Monster?
We shaved him and tried to teach him good grammar.
“Me want cookie,” the wild-eyed flabby midget growled.
“No,” I say. “I would like a cookie.”
“Me too!” he shouts, flailing his arms.
Hopeless. We’ll just sell him to Nabisco.
Carry
Violet is a strange girl.
Sure, she’s plain in all regards, from her mousy brown straight hair down to her shabby tennis shoes, but along the way you can’t miss the fact that she’s always carrying a tuba.
It’s what sets her apart from the rest of the girls.
I asked her once why she carries a tuba everywhere she goes.
“Because if I go somewhere without one,” she replies. “so flew places keep one handy. Present company excepted, of course.”
I am proud of my emergency tuba, stored in a box and labeled “IN CASE OF VIOLET, BREAK GLASS.”
Pet
It’s springtime again.
I want to go down to the stream and gather rocks and pebbles.
My pet turtle likes fresh ones in his terrarium every spring.
After school, I go down to the creek and fill the bottom of my bookbag with stones.
When I get home, I put my turtle in the sink and carry his bowl to the back yard to dump out the rocks and water
Then I bring the bowl back inside, wash it out, and arrange the new rocks.
A little water, and then I put the toy plastic turtle back in his bowl.
Sled
I live in the south where it’s warm most of the time. When it gets cold, I can feel it. Deep.
Growing up, I lived north where it snowed. The cold didn’t bother me then. I loved it. It was fun.
We didn’t have sleds or saucers. Instead, we hosed down sheets of cardboard, let them freeze, and slid down hills, holding tight.
We crashed. We laughed.
One kid wanted to bobsled like they do in the Olympics.
A portable toilet on it’s side, door hanging open, full of kids.
And spilled shit.
Thank God I was the one pushing.
That Pumpkin
Back in college, we had pumpkin carving contests.
All of the pumpkins were sent to the children’s ward of a nearby hospital.
Well, almost all.
Everybody else made your typical not-very-scary faces and outlines of flying witches.
I made a screaming face and stuck a saw through the top.
Then I mixed ketchup and quickdrying paint to add the effect of dripping blood.
“Don’t you know this is for kids in the hospital?” they asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Wait… it’s not a mental hospital?”
Oops. My mistake.
Really, I figured the saw could be handy for cutting through the bars.
Mister Clean
Mister Clean wasn’t always clean.
Despite his parents’ best efforts, he refused to clean his room.
“You’d better clean your room,” his mother would say. “Or you’re not getting any dinner.”
“Fine by me,” he said. “Everything you make tastes like ammonia and bleach anyway.”
She’d send him to his room, and he’d happy comply, slamming the door shut.
“At least we don’t have to see his room with the door closed,” his father said.
But they did have to smell it.
So, they took him to a mental hospital, where his head was shaved and he received shock therapy.