Were you born worthless or did you have to work at it?
It seems as though so much has happened and yet so little. School is getting harder. It's such an easy school but so much work. This morning in lab, we had to dissect a pig. It was sad and nauseating but I managed. We had to name them. Don named ours "Piggy Smalls" I'm too lazy to write complete sentences...
Work is too much. Mike is gorgeous, Jim is sexy, Corey is a sweetheart. Diana is pissing me off. Today is Davey's birthday, he's 24. I miss him. The 11th is E.H.'s birthday. I've been feeling sick lately. Maybe I'm pregnant? I've almost finished, And I Don't Want To Live This Life by Deborah Spungen. Kristin, I'll return that to you during the week. Thank you, darling. I started to read Ron Kovic's, Born On The Fouth Of July last night. It made me cry myself to sleep. I miss Annie and Sara. I saw Andrea Warner at work the other day. I haven't seen her in like 5 years. I've seen so many people lately. Kris has like 10 tattoos. I have a presentation tomorrow in humanities w/Marlene and Andy that I haven't even started. The Christmas season makes me bitter.
And I have to write a story on this paper. The word choice is interesting.
Easter Sunday
The grass in Reid Park was covered with eggs. Bright dots by the thousands. Up in trees. Sitting in the seats of swingsets. In clumps of brush. A mob of children stood behind a long strip of police caution tape, waiting for the sound of the horn so they could break the strip and rush after the eggs.
Alright. Fuck the ones sitting out in the open, Davey. Run right through em and head for the trees.
Yes sir.
I mean it. Last year the golden egg was hidden at the top of the rocket slide. Kid won $500 and a family pass to Justin's Water World. We need that egg.
The whole time he was talking to his son, Davey's father was thinking man, if Davey gets that egg I'll be in heaven. $500 to take down to Miracle Mile where I can get the finest piece on the strip and when Rogelio Nunez goes waving his 50 around like he does every night at the bar after work, I'll put out a nice crisp c-note and show that fuckstick up once and for all. No more of his talk about his wife and her fat mooseknuckle of a puss bunched up in her acid-washed jeans. I've seen her come into the plumbing shop on our lunch break, and he's got nothing to brag about. Hell, I'd be in the bar getting drunk too, married to that. Damn mexicans. He should be mailing that 50 to his family back in me-hee-co.
He grabbed h is son's ear, jerking his head hard, and Davey heard a pop and felt the cartilage tear and the sting spread through his head like a web. He bit his tongue to draw his attention away from the pain.
You hear me boy? You're bigger than the rest of those beaners.
Yes sir.
Just run over the top of em and find the golden fucking egg and everything will be fine. Now get in there. He knocked his son on the head with his silver and turquoise wedding ring.
Davey walked to the top where the rest of the kids were waiting for the horn to blow so the hunt could begin. He was taller than most of them and he felt stupid. The other parents were giving him disgusted looks, making no secret about their disapproval of such a large boy among their children. Heads shaking. Grimaces. And standing in front of them was his dad loudly telling others how his son was gonna get that golden fuckin egg this year. Yep, Davey's got it, he gloated, adjusting his ballsack in his tight jeans.
Davey kicked at a clump of grass. I hate him. Always messin with me. Pulling my hair and rappin me on the head with that stupid ring. He wanted to punch the kid next to him. Just to let out some of his anger. His head still hurt.
The kids were getting antsy waiting on the horn. They bobbed up and down and nudged each other and plotted their attack on the eggs.
I'm getting all the blue ones. Blue's my favorite. Red's mine.
Davey thought just the golden egg for me. He was ten years old. Right at the cut off for being too old for the egg hunt or caring about the other stupid eggs.
It's not like anyone's going to card you, his father had said during their walk to Reid Park. But he had folded his son's birth certificate into his back pocket anyway. Just in case. They aren't keeping us out. Let those sonsabitches try. The entire walk his dad had threatened the sonsabitches. Dared them to question his son's age. Davey spent the walk thinking how badly he wanted the new He-Man toy-Castle Greyskull.
And now, waiting on the horn to blow, he thought about how he hadn't peed before they left the house, he hadn't had the time with his dad dragging him out of bed into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on Davey's face then told him you have exactly two minutes to meet me outside and Davey picked up a shirt off his floor and shook it and turned it rightside out and stumbled to the front yard where his dad stood beneath the palm tree and said you got sixty seconds to get from this tree to that saguaro in front of the Colon house. Sixty seconds. Go. Davey ran, his head still blurry from waking only three minutes earlier and wondered why every year his dad does the same thing. No easter basket.. No good morning, just run Davey. Faster. I can't believe you let the little wetback mo-ha-dohs outrun you. We OWN them. And Davey waited on the horn and felt his bladder bulging beneath his belt, taunting him, forcing him to thrust his hand into his pocket and pinch the tip of his wiener, and the pain kept him from peeing for now, but he looked over his shoulder anyway and considered going back to this dad, who was still going on about the golden fuckin egg, to ask if he could go potty real quick.
But he knew better.
So he crossed his legs and rocked back and forth and wondered when they were going to blow the stupid horn. Don't think of pee or the golden fuckin egg. Something to make the dumb horn blow--little boy blue, come blow your horn--and back and forth, pinching his wiener and looking around and loosening his belt a notch to let his bladder expand a little so he'd be able to run. Blow your horn dang you. Dad can take the money, I want the prize. A brand new mountain bike this year. I'll ride it all over the place. Learn how to jump ramps like the big kids and maybe race professionally when I grow up like those guys in BMX Magazine, especially if it's a cool bike like a mongoose or a diamondback or --
The horn blew and the kids ran frantically, stampeding, defying gravity by scooping up eggs as they went, bent over and never running upright, and as Davey watched the kids get farther away from him the eggs dissapeared from behind the line of children, the ground turning green again as if a plague of locusts were attacking a field of wheat like they told him about in Sunday school to illustrate god's wrath.
GODDAMMIT BOY. Get your ASS in there and GET THAT EGG.
Davey let go of his wiener and broke into a run--ignoring the pain in his bladder--and heard another parent calling his dad and asshole and why don't you just leave the poor kid alone, you jerk. He lowered his head and ran straight toward the middle of the group where the kids were still bunched together running for the trees. He passed children with big smiles on their faces, happy with the three or four eggs they'd managed to get their hands on. A few of them had been tripped or knocked over and sat on the ground looking as if they weren't sure whether or not they should cry or keep going there's so many eggs.
By the time he got to the trees they were full of kids who weren't afraid of climbing and smaller ones looked up the trunks at the brave kids and then lowered their heads and kept going towards the pond, the cut off point for the hunt, scattering, looking in bushes, under rocks, sometimes puhsing the smallest kids over and stealing their eggs, and the parents shouted words of encouragement that sounded like a crackling roar as the trees broke the sound apart while Davey ran past several eggs mashed in the grass by the mob of children now spread all over the park, searching for the better hidden eggs or giving up and walking back toward their parents or the playground, but he pushed onn, knowing the golden egg wouldn't be out in plain view, heading toward a row of bushes that lined the bank of the stream spilling out of the pond, where a small girl crouched beneath a bush and then emerged with a glittering egg in her hand.
He stopped running and looked at the girl. She looked back at him, clutching the golden fuckin egg in her fist. He took a step toward her. None of the others had noticed her. None of them saw the two children staring at teach other down, sizing each other up. Give me the egg. He took another step toward her.
No. It's mine. It's my egg cause I found it.
He took another step and saw the girl's body tense up as if she was about to break into a run. Give it. Gimme the golden fucking egg. Please. I need it.
The girl smiled at him. He started to smile back.
She's actually going to give it to me.
But then she started laughing at and put one hand over her mouth and pointed the other--the one with the egg--at his crotch. At the cold wet stain he hadn't noticed while he was running. The left leg of his jeans was saturated and sticking to him. He felt more pee seep into his underwear and embarassment rush into his cheeks. Still, at least no one else saw, if anyone else sees I'll just die, and the girl bowed her head laughing. Davey walked up to her, ignoring his pee squishy shoes, and grabbed her hand that held the egg. Get the egg. Gotta get the egg. She stopped laughing and jerked her hand away, backing into the bushes. He followed her, ignoring the branches scratching his face and arms, grabbing at her leg, She fell backward and tried to scoot away, still clutching her hand to her chest, trying to scream for mommy. Shut up. Just shut up and give me the egg and pretend you never found it.
NO. She squirmed backward, kicking at his hand. He ignored the pain, thinking of his dad back there telling the other parents how Davey's got this one in the bag, the golden fucking egg, probably dancing around and scratching his nuts.
The girl's hand touched the water and she stopped moving. He knew she was trapped but she didn't stop kicking, wouldn't hand over the egg.
He crawled through the bush, holding her leg down and trying to block her other foot from kicking his face. The girl turned to look for an escape but he pinned her down and lay on top of her, trying to wrestle the egg from her hand. It's mine. If she'd just stop screaming and give it to me. He pushed her head into the stream then pulled it out again. She spat up water but didn't leg go of the egg. Just gimme it. Pushed her head under again. Gimme. Dunked her head again and held her down, ignoring her kicking and her hands scratching and punching at his neck and face, listening to her screams bubbling up through the water and pulling her hair harder and harder and wishing he'd gone pee before he left the house instead of wetting his pants like a baby, thinking Dad's gonna beat me when he sees my pants, especially if I don't come back with the egg, and then the girl finally stopped kicking and lay still and Davey thought good she's going to give up and maybe we can be friends. I'll let her ride my bike and when I get too big for it I can sell it to her for cheap, then maybe she'll be my girlfriends, and he held her head underwater a little longer while he felt around her body with his other hand, looking for the egg, and when he located it he felt a calmness in his heart and he rubbed the egg's sparkling surface with his thumb and crawled off the girl and crouched beneath the bushes to catch his breath and to think of a reason for having wet pants so he could bring the egg to his dad.
He watched the water running through her hair, thinking how pretty her hair looked all spread out in the water like that. Like seaweed. Then when he got bored he scrambled out of the bush and started walking toward his dad, thinking about how fum it's gonna be to jump the ramp on my first try and with all the kids watching...
Work is too much. Mike is gorgeous, Jim is sexy, Corey is a sweetheart. Diana is pissing me off. Today is Davey's birthday, he's 24. I miss him. The 11th is E.H.'s birthday. I've been feeling sick lately. Maybe I'm pregnant? I've almost finished, And I Don't Want To Live This Life by Deborah Spungen. Kristin, I'll return that to you during the week. Thank you, darling. I started to read Ron Kovic's, Born On The Fouth Of July last night. It made me cry myself to sleep. I miss Annie and Sara. I saw Andrea Warner at work the other day. I haven't seen her in like 5 years. I've seen so many people lately. Kris has like 10 tattoos. I have a presentation tomorrow in humanities w/Marlene and Andy that I haven't even started. The Christmas season makes me bitter.
And I have to write a story on this paper. The word choice is interesting.
Easter Sunday
The grass in Reid Park was covered with eggs. Bright dots by the thousands. Up in trees. Sitting in the seats of swingsets. In clumps of brush. A mob of children stood behind a long strip of police caution tape, waiting for the sound of the horn so they could break the strip and rush after the eggs.
Alright. Fuck the ones sitting out in the open, Davey. Run right through em and head for the trees.
Yes sir.
I mean it. Last year the golden egg was hidden at the top of the rocket slide. Kid won $500 and a family pass to Justin's Water World. We need that egg.
The whole time he was talking to his son, Davey's father was thinking man, if Davey gets that egg I'll be in heaven. $500 to take down to Miracle Mile where I can get the finest piece on the strip and when Rogelio Nunez goes waving his 50 around like he does every night at the bar after work, I'll put out a nice crisp c-note and show that fuckstick up once and for all. No more of his talk about his wife and her fat mooseknuckle of a puss bunched up in her acid-washed jeans. I've seen her come into the plumbing shop on our lunch break, and he's got nothing to brag about. Hell, I'd be in the bar getting drunk too, married to that. Damn mexicans. He should be mailing that 50 to his family back in me-hee-co.
He grabbed h is son's ear, jerking his head hard, and Davey heard a pop and felt the cartilage tear and the sting spread through his head like a web. He bit his tongue to draw his attention away from the pain.
You hear me boy? You're bigger than the rest of those beaners.
Yes sir.
Just run over the top of em and find the golden fucking egg and everything will be fine. Now get in there. He knocked his son on the head with his silver and turquoise wedding ring.
Davey walked to the top where the rest of the kids were waiting for the horn to blow so the hunt could begin. He was taller than most of them and he felt stupid. The other parents were giving him disgusted looks, making no secret about their disapproval of such a large boy among their children. Heads shaking. Grimaces. And standing in front of them was his dad loudly telling others how his son was gonna get that golden fuckin egg this year. Yep, Davey's got it, he gloated, adjusting his ballsack in his tight jeans.
Davey kicked at a clump of grass. I hate him. Always messin with me. Pulling my hair and rappin me on the head with that stupid ring. He wanted to punch the kid next to him. Just to let out some of his anger. His head still hurt.
The kids were getting antsy waiting on the horn. They bobbed up and down and nudged each other and plotted their attack on the eggs.
I'm getting all the blue ones. Blue's my favorite. Red's mine.
Davey thought just the golden egg for me. He was ten years old. Right at the cut off for being too old for the egg hunt or caring about the other stupid eggs.
It's not like anyone's going to card you, his father had said during their walk to Reid Park. But he had folded his son's birth certificate into his back pocket anyway. Just in case. They aren't keeping us out. Let those sonsabitches try. The entire walk his dad had threatened the sonsabitches. Dared them to question his son's age. Davey spent the walk thinking how badly he wanted the new He-Man toy-Castle Greyskull.
And now, waiting on the horn to blow, he thought about how he hadn't peed before they left the house, he hadn't had the time with his dad dragging him out of bed into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on Davey's face then told him you have exactly two minutes to meet me outside and Davey picked up a shirt off his floor and shook it and turned it rightside out and stumbled to the front yard where his dad stood beneath the palm tree and said you got sixty seconds to get from this tree to that saguaro in front of the Colon house. Sixty seconds. Go. Davey ran, his head still blurry from waking only three minutes earlier and wondered why every year his dad does the same thing. No easter basket.. No good morning, just run Davey. Faster. I can't believe you let the little wetback mo-ha-dohs outrun you. We OWN them. And Davey waited on the horn and felt his bladder bulging beneath his belt, taunting him, forcing him to thrust his hand into his pocket and pinch the tip of his wiener, and the pain kept him from peeing for now, but he looked over his shoulder anyway and considered going back to this dad, who was still going on about the golden fuckin egg, to ask if he could go potty real quick.
But he knew better.
So he crossed his legs and rocked back and forth and wondered when they were going to blow the stupid horn. Don't think of pee or the golden fuckin egg. Something to make the dumb horn blow--little boy blue, come blow your horn--and back and forth, pinching his wiener and looking around and loosening his belt a notch to let his bladder expand a little so he'd be able to run. Blow your horn dang you. Dad can take the money, I want the prize. A brand new mountain bike this year. I'll ride it all over the place. Learn how to jump ramps like the big kids and maybe race professionally when I grow up like those guys in BMX Magazine, especially if it's a cool bike like a mongoose or a diamondback or --
The horn blew and the kids ran frantically, stampeding, defying gravity by scooping up eggs as they went, bent over and never running upright, and as Davey watched the kids get farther away from him the eggs dissapeared from behind the line of children, the ground turning green again as if a plague of locusts were attacking a field of wheat like they told him about in Sunday school to illustrate god's wrath.
GODDAMMIT BOY. Get your ASS in there and GET THAT EGG.
Davey let go of his wiener and broke into a run--ignoring the pain in his bladder--and heard another parent calling his dad and asshole and why don't you just leave the poor kid alone, you jerk. He lowered his head and ran straight toward the middle of the group where the kids were still bunched together running for the trees. He passed children with big smiles on their faces, happy with the three or four eggs they'd managed to get their hands on. A few of them had been tripped or knocked over and sat on the ground looking as if they weren't sure whether or not they should cry or keep going there's so many eggs.
By the time he got to the trees they were full of kids who weren't afraid of climbing and smaller ones looked up the trunks at the brave kids and then lowered their heads and kept going towards the pond, the cut off point for the hunt, scattering, looking in bushes, under rocks, sometimes puhsing the smallest kids over and stealing their eggs, and the parents shouted words of encouragement that sounded like a crackling roar as the trees broke the sound apart while Davey ran past several eggs mashed in the grass by the mob of children now spread all over the park, searching for the better hidden eggs or giving up and walking back toward their parents or the playground, but he pushed onn, knowing the golden egg wouldn't be out in plain view, heading toward a row of bushes that lined the bank of the stream spilling out of the pond, where a small girl crouched beneath a bush and then emerged with a glittering egg in her hand.
He stopped running and looked at the girl. She looked back at him, clutching the golden fuckin egg in her fist. He took a step toward her. None of the others had noticed her. None of them saw the two children staring at teach other down, sizing each other up. Give me the egg. He took another step toward her.
No. It's mine. It's my egg cause I found it.
He took another step and saw the girl's body tense up as if she was about to break into a run. Give it. Gimme the golden fucking egg. Please. I need it.
The girl smiled at him. He started to smile back.
She's actually going to give it to me.
But then she started laughing at and put one hand over her mouth and pointed the other--the one with the egg--at his crotch. At the cold wet stain he hadn't noticed while he was running. The left leg of his jeans was saturated and sticking to him. He felt more pee seep into his underwear and embarassment rush into his cheeks. Still, at least no one else saw, if anyone else sees I'll just die, and the girl bowed her head laughing. Davey walked up to her, ignoring his pee squishy shoes, and grabbed her hand that held the egg. Get the egg. Gotta get the egg. She stopped laughing and jerked her hand away, backing into the bushes. He followed her, ignoring the branches scratching his face and arms, grabbing at her leg, She fell backward and tried to scoot away, still clutching her hand to her chest, trying to scream for mommy. Shut up. Just shut up and give me the egg and pretend you never found it.
NO. She squirmed backward, kicking at his hand. He ignored the pain, thinking of his dad back there telling the other parents how Davey's got this one in the bag, the golden fucking egg, probably dancing around and scratching his nuts.
The girl's hand touched the water and she stopped moving. He knew she was trapped but she didn't stop kicking, wouldn't hand over the egg.
He crawled through the bush, holding her leg down and trying to block her other foot from kicking his face. The girl turned to look for an escape but he pinned her down and lay on top of her, trying to wrestle the egg from her hand. It's mine. If she'd just stop screaming and give it to me. He pushed her head into the stream then pulled it out again. She spat up water but didn't leg go of the egg. Just gimme it. Pushed her head under again. Gimme. Dunked her head again and held her down, ignoring her kicking and her hands scratching and punching at his neck and face, listening to her screams bubbling up through the water and pulling her hair harder and harder and wishing he'd gone pee before he left the house instead of wetting his pants like a baby, thinking Dad's gonna beat me when he sees my pants, especially if I don't come back with the egg, and then the girl finally stopped kicking and lay still and Davey thought good she's going to give up and maybe we can be friends. I'll let her ride my bike and when I get too big for it I can sell it to her for cheap, then maybe she'll be my girlfriends, and he held her head underwater a little longer while he felt around her body with his other hand, looking for the egg, and when he located it he felt a calmness in his heart and he rubbed the egg's sparkling surface with his thumb and crawled off the girl and crouched beneath the bushes to catch his breath and to think of a reason for having wet pants so he could bring the egg to his dad.
He watched the water running through her hair, thinking how pretty her hair looked all spread out in the water like that. Like seaweed. Then when he got bored he scrambled out of the bush and started walking toward his dad, thinking about how fum it's gonna be to jump the ramp on my first try and with all the kids watching...