English Strikes Again
Robert Cartwright
12 October 2004
Mr. Huckman
Personal Narrative
“Good afternoon Mrs. Bonnum.” Graham delivered the line flawlessly after two years of cashiering at the local Pig Pickings. He placed the gleam onto his face, with all the poise of a mainstream actor. “How are you doing today?”
Mrs. Bonnum forced out a smile from sheer politeness, making her face look almost painful. Most of the regular housewives shared mixed emotions of fear and disgust for Graham, mainly because of his fathers status in the town but also because of his attitude toward the town.
Little Tommy Bonnum paid no attention to Graham as he tugged on his mother’s arm. “Mommy can I get a toy?” Mrs. Bonnum glanced at her son.
“Only if you’re good honey.”
“No!” Tommy stomped his foot, “I want a toy now!” Tommy ran off as his mothers voice lingered cautioning Tommy to be careful. Mrs. Bonnum was not concerned though, she had shopping to do.
Graham watched Tommy run off into the isles as Mrs. Bonnum grabbed a shopping cart. She pulled a list out of her purse and began to review her agenda. She knew she didn’t need it, even Graham knew she didn’t need it, it was all a matter of uniform. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner all fit like a suit and tie, even the groceries she would buy. Graham rehearsed her list as he readied the mop and bucket. Of course she would buy the essential milk and break, toilet paper, maybe some soap or toothpaste, those were weekly purchases, but it was the first Monday of the month. Graham had to focus on specific details. She would need juice and cookies for the continuous cub scout meeting, ingredients for brownies or a cake to take to the bake sale. The little league wanted new uniforms this year, so she might even make both. He nearly splashed the mop water as his mind associated more freely now. If she was going to buy any kind of alcohol it would be today, being that she probably took her last bottle to the on-the-run cookout the Andersons had. She might get a bottle of brandy for the guys monthly poker game. They played for a very small amount of money, so it was considered sociable rather than degrading.
Graham began to wonder when Mrs. Bonnum would begin to shop for tampons for her daughter, who was turning 14 this year, when he realized he was getting too specific. Graham fed off of the towns conformity, he nearly admired it. It was those thoughts that brought the town to simply deal with Graham. Returning home day after day to his drunken, worn-out father gave the regularities an appeal most would seem to question.
He was pouring in the soap when he looked up to see Mrs. Bonnum chatting with Mrs. Carter. They must had already exchanged the common “hellos” because it looked as if they were now fully involved in a steady conversation. Their faces mocked concern to a point of apathy. The lure of gossip pulled Graham in; he couldn’t resist.
“Well...” Mrs. Carter looked around sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “ I just don’t know what we would do.
Graham guess that they were discussing the possible buy out of the mine, which was bold of them. It was a subject many tried to ignore. The coal mined supported the economy of the town. The men mined coal while the women raised children. It provided for a harmonious attitude within the population.
Mrs Bonnum shifted the conversation by asking how David, Mrs. Carters eldest son, was doing. He was one of the few who left town to aspire to be more than the general mold.
“Oh he is doing great! He writes every week sometimes even phones. He is still getting only the best of grades of course, he was always so smart. Mrs Carter had perked up at the idea of bragging. She started again but cut herself off when Tommy ran up to the women holding a plastic toy in his hand.
She sighed, “they grow up so fast you know, one day asking for toys and the next day it’s off to college.” The though of a young David swept Mrs. Carter with a nostalgic memento. She didn’t even notice Tommy’s begging for the plastic dart gun turn more severe.
“We’ll see Tommy. Not right now.” He was growing impatient as she tried to barter with him.
“No Mom! I want it now!” Tommy spat out so angered that he snapped Mrs. Carter out of her gaze.
“If you’ll just wait a bit I’ll-”
“No!” Tommy ran towards the rows and grabbed a can of baked beans. He held the can as high as his small body permitted.
“Now put that down Tommy,” and it was in that instant Tommy’s face growled with rage as the can of baked beans spilled out onto the white, shinny tile. Mrs. Bonnum was not angry, only frustrated. She grabbed the toy from him as if to scold him, but lightly smacked his bottom and places the toy into the cart.
“Now lets go,” and with a smile to Mrs. Carter she walked down the next isle, continuing to work on her grocery list. Mrs. Carter shook her head smiling. So cute, she thought.
Graham was halfway through cleaning up the baked beans when Mrs. Carter was ready to check out. As she left Mrs. Anderson strolled into Pig Pickens.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Anderson,”Graham nodded his head to finalize the greeting. She forced out the same painful smile, and Graham went back to mop up the mess.
12 October 2004
Mr. Huckman
Personal Narrative
“Good afternoon Mrs. Bonnum.” Graham delivered the line flawlessly after two years of cashiering at the local Pig Pickings. He placed the gleam onto his face, with all the poise of a mainstream actor. “How are you doing today?”
Mrs. Bonnum forced out a smile from sheer politeness, making her face look almost painful. Most of the regular housewives shared mixed emotions of fear and disgust for Graham, mainly because of his fathers status in the town but also because of his attitude toward the town.
Little Tommy Bonnum paid no attention to Graham as he tugged on his mother’s arm. “Mommy can I get a toy?” Mrs. Bonnum glanced at her son.
“Only if you’re good honey.”
“No!” Tommy stomped his foot, “I want a toy now!” Tommy ran off as his mothers voice lingered cautioning Tommy to be careful. Mrs. Bonnum was not concerned though, she had shopping to do.
Graham watched Tommy run off into the isles as Mrs. Bonnum grabbed a shopping cart. She pulled a list out of her purse and began to review her agenda. She knew she didn’t need it, even Graham knew she didn’t need it, it was all a matter of uniform. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner all fit like a suit and tie, even the groceries she would buy. Graham rehearsed her list as he readied the mop and bucket. Of course she would buy the essential milk and break, toilet paper, maybe some soap or toothpaste, those were weekly purchases, but it was the first Monday of the month. Graham had to focus on specific details. She would need juice and cookies for the continuous cub scout meeting, ingredients for brownies or a cake to take to the bake sale. The little league wanted new uniforms this year, so she might even make both. He nearly splashed the mop water as his mind associated more freely now. If she was going to buy any kind of alcohol it would be today, being that she probably took her last bottle to the on-the-run cookout the Andersons had. She might get a bottle of brandy for the guys monthly poker game. They played for a very small amount of money, so it was considered sociable rather than degrading.
Graham began to wonder when Mrs. Bonnum would begin to shop for tampons for her daughter, who was turning 14 this year, when he realized he was getting too specific. Graham fed off of the towns conformity, he nearly admired it. It was those thoughts that brought the town to simply deal with Graham. Returning home day after day to his drunken, worn-out father gave the regularities an appeal most would seem to question.
He was pouring in the soap when he looked up to see Mrs. Bonnum chatting with Mrs. Carter. They must had already exchanged the common “hellos” because it looked as if they were now fully involved in a steady conversation. Their faces mocked concern to a point of apathy. The lure of gossip pulled Graham in; he couldn’t resist.
“Well...” Mrs. Carter looked around sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “ I just don’t know what we would do.
Graham guess that they were discussing the possible buy out of the mine, which was bold of them. It was a subject many tried to ignore. The coal mined supported the economy of the town. The men mined coal while the women raised children. It provided for a harmonious attitude within the population.
Mrs Bonnum shifted the conversation by asking how David, Mrs. Carters eldest son, was doing. He was one of the few who left town to aspire to be more than the general mold.
“Oh he is doing great! He writes every week sometimes even phones. He is still getting only the best of grades of course, he was always so smart. Mrs Carter had perked up at the idea of bragging. She started again but cut herself off when Tommy ran up to the women holding a plastic toy in his hand.
She sighed, “they grow up so fast you know, one day asking for toys and the next day it’s off to college.” The though of a young David swept Mrs. Carter with a nostalgic memento. She didn’t even notice Tommy’s begging for the plastic dart gun turn more severe.
“We’ll see Tommy. Not right now.” He was growing impatient as she tried to barter with him.
“No Mom! I want it now!” Tommy spat out so angered that he snapped Mrs. Carter out of her gaze.
“If you’ll just wait a bit I’ll-”
“No!” Tommy ran towards the rows and grabbed a can of baked beans. He held the can as high as his small body permitted.
“Now put that down Tommy,” and it was in that instant Tommy’s face growled with rage as the can of baked beans spilled out onto the white, shinny tile. Mrs. Bonnum was not angry, only frustrated. She grabbed the toy from him as if to scold him, but lightly smacked his bottom and places the toy into the cart.
“Now lets go,” and with a smile to Mrs. Carter she walked down the next isle, continuing to work on her grocery list. Mrs. Carter shook her head smiling. So cute, she thought.
Graham was halfway through cleaning up the baked beans when Mrs. Carter was ready to check out. As she left Mrs. Anderson strolled into Pig Pickens.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Anderson,”Graham nodded his head to finalize the greeting. She forced out the same painful smile, and Graham went back to mop up the mess.