Smitten
I don't remember her name, but if I were to give her one, it would be "Godzilla." I was a puny five-year old, and she was about eight or nine. She was huge and hard. Even the boys in the neighborhood gave her a wide berth.
One day, I was innocently playing in my front yard. I felt the ground shake and I looked up. It was Godzilla. She was carrying a 2" by 4". "I'm going to hit you with this," she announced, matter-of-factly.
I was filled with a sense of the unfairness of the situation. "But I don't have a weapon," I complained.
"Well, go get one! I'll wait."
I ran into the house. As an adult, looking back, I can't imagine why I didn't just stay in the house! Instead, I looked around hurriedly for something with which to defend myself. "What are you doing?" my mother asked.
"Nothing!" I replied, and ran back outside carrying a broom, the nearest thing to a weapon I could find. I confronted Godzilla. She laughed out loud and whacked me across the head with the 2" by 4".
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the couch, with my tearful mother bathing my face with a wet rag. "Who did this to you?" she sobbed.
"It was Godzilla."
"You mean that big girl with the long, black hair?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"Yes."
"Well, you show me where her house is, and I'm going to talk to her parents. She's not going to get away with this."
I lifted my throbbing head from the pillow and stood up, pleased that justice was about to be served. Mommy held my hand as we marched down the street and around the corner to Godzilla's house. I could hardly contain my excitement. We walked up to the front door and Mommy knocked loudly. One thing I should mention here is that my mother stood about 5' 3" and had a small, dainty build. No one answered the door. Mommy knocked again, harder this time.
Suddenly, the door flew open and a woman at least the size of King Kong appeared. She had bristly, black hair that stood out every which way, and her face was contorted.
"What do you want" she bellowed.
My mother looked up at Kong, trembled slightly, and said, "Nothing!"
Gripping my hand tightly, she turned around quickly and walked us away from the ogre's den as fast as our short legs could go. I felt a crushing sense of disappointment.
"But Mommy," I cried. "You didn't tell Kong what Godzilla did to me."
I'm sorry, Zelda. Someday, you'll understand."
She was right.
8 comments:
I love the way you write but I'm sorry that that bratty child belted you.
No wonder she was so out of control with a mum like that, eh?
xx
Hopefully you evened the score with Godzilla. Something childish mean would have been fair. Like pushing her in front of a bus or setting her hair on fire - ya know, typical stuff.
Ms Smack: Thank you for your concern, but don't worry. The headaches have finally stopped.
Bill: Oh yes, I evened the score. I cut off her head and hoisted it high on the end of my broomstick!
Oh I like the way Bill thinks LOL
I'm laughing at the headaches. I hope you're joking!!
xx
LOL Love your balls: you could've stayed in the house and never returned to face Godzilla. Losing is better than chickening out.
LOL Love your balls: you could've stayed in the house and never returned to face Godzilla. Losing is better than chickening out.
When and where I grew up you had to fight. If you didnt, then you had nuthin. And nuthin was for losers. I could have been somebody, I could have been a contender!
I was an italian catholic growing up in a neighborhood of jewish and irish catholic kids all older than me. It gave me lots of tries to improve my fighting and mother put down jokes. When you started off with your momma jokes, you could tell when you won cause the SOB mick to start fighting. So even if you went home with bruises and puking on the sidewalk at least you could still walk away saying Your momma is still .....
i knew life was a japanese movie
Post a Comment