It’s getting hotter, like in the weather and the sky and the temperature, hot like that. The way I figure it its way too hot to ride on the bus, so I’ll leave that for now, riding the bus and all. I could walk, I suppose, but I’m way too lazy for that, and on account of the fact that my feet get all swollen and puffed out and crabby looking. I knew this guy who refused to walk anywhere if the slope, I think that’s how it’s called, was too high, as in an incline or a hill going upwards. He took a taxi or simply stayed put, sometimes not leaving the house for days on end. It’s sad, when you think about it, how some fucker can’t even walk up a tiny hill without figuring it’s too high and way to costly on energy. As far as I’m concerned they might as well call it quits, fuck off, I mean just stop all the blubbering and complaining. Jesus made the world with hills and slopes and inclines and the like, so why bother complaining or giving it a second thought, really? Of course who am I to talk, really, I mean I can’t even leave the house if I think it’s going to rain, cause if it does, rain that is, I’m pretty much fucked cause I don’t have an umbrella, and there’s nothing I hate more than getting all wet and soggy, well maybe being scaled with scalding hot water, but that’s about it.
One thing I like about the rain is the thunder and lightening, it reminds me sort of like when I was a kid and used to sit under the porch stoop listening to it. The crashing and bolts, I think that’s how you call it, of lightening were like fireworks, not you normal general kind of fireworks, but the kind what’re made by Nature and Jesus, like. I’d hide under the porch stoop with our dog, him licking and slobbering on my face, all screwy looking in the eyes on account of the fact he was scared and all. On occasion sometimes I’d bring some matches with me and fire them off like rockets, striking them against the striking part and tossing them into the air. The best thing about being a kid was not having to listen to your mom and dad; mind you, I suppose I did miss it after they burned in the house. And me fiddling round with matches underneath it couldn’t have been all that smart, not by a long shot I guess. Its not that I particularly like the sulphur smell, but the fact, I guess, that I could do it and get away with it. My grandmamma said it was cheating, or lying, or something like that, but I could care less, cause it was fun and a fun thing to do under the porch stoop in the rain with our dog. Sometimes doing fun stuff is way better than listening to your mom and dad, sometimes I guess, but not always.
I remember throwing stones and watching that poor girl trouble her way down the street, the girl with the hearing-box strapped to her chest. She was pretty much deaf so had to wear this crazy looking contraption on a harness or something, it was sort of tied round her back and strapped round the front, like a rucksack or a schoolbag. It made this buzzing sound like bees in a peanut jar, and there was this tiny green light that flashed and flickered, so she could tell if it was on and all I guess. I’m pretty much sure that she had crappy eyesight, too, cause she had these real thick-looking glasses on that had an elastic band round them, sort of like the ones that athletes wear to keep they’re goggles and stuff from falling off. I’m pretty much ashamed to admit that me and my friends made fun of her, making crazy screwy-eyed faces at her or saying something when we weren’t, but just moving out lips like we was. I hope she’s okay now, now that she’s all grown and doesn’t have to have us as kids living on her block. I’m not too happy about that, but when you’re a kid you do stupid things just to get the other kinds to like you; and most of the time they don’t like you anyhow, so it seems rather pointless, really. Now that I remember it, me and my friends uses to catch bees in peanut butter jars; you just flipped the jar over on top of them and slid the jar top back on. We used to have millions of them in one peanut jar, buzzing and smacking they’re wings against the peanut butter jar glass. You could always find them cause they hovered over honeysuckle plants, on account of the fact that that’s what they liked to eat, and there was plenty of honeysuckles on the lawn in front of the church across the street from our house, before it burned down of course. I’d been better had the church burned down, cause I didn’t care much for the minister or the guy who ran the AA meeting.
One thing I like about the rain is the thunder and lightening, it reminds me sort of like when I was a kid and used to sit under the porch stoop listening to it. The crashing and bolts, I think that’s how you call it, of lightening were like fireworks, not you normal general kind of fireworks, but the kind what’re made by Nature and Jesus, like. I’d hide under the porch stoop with our dog, him licking and slobbering on my face, all screwy looking in the eyes on account of the fact he was scared and all. On occasion sometimes I’d bring some matches with me and fire them off like rockets, striking them against the striking part and tossing them into the air. The best thing about being a kid was not having to listen to your mom and dad; mind you, I suppose I did miss it after they burned in the house. And me fiddling round with matches underneath it couldn’t have been all that smart, not by a long shot I guess. Its not that I particularly like the sulphur smell, but the fact, I guess, that I could do it and get away with it. My grandmamma said it was cheating, or lying, or something like that, but I could care less, cause it was fun and a fun thing to do under the porch stoop in the rain with our dog. Sometimes doing fun stuff is way better than listening to your mom and dad, sometimes I guess, but not always.
I remember throwing stones and watching that poor girl trouble her way down the street, the girl with the hearing-box strapped to her chest. She was pretty much deaf so had to wear this crazy looking contraption on a harness or something, it was sort of tied round her back and strapped round the front, like a rucksack or a schoolbag. It made this buzzing sound like bees in a peanut jar, and there was this tiny green light that flashed and flickered, so she could tell if it was on and all I guess. I’m pretty much sure that she had crappy eyesight, too, cause she had these real thick-looking glasses on that had an elastic band round them, sort of like the ones that athletes wear to keep they’re goggles and stuff from falling off. I’m pretty much ashamed to admit that me and my friends made fun of her, making crazy screwy-eyed faces at her or saying something when we weren’t, but just moving out lips like we was. I hope she’s okay now, now that she’s all grown and doesn’t have to have us as kids living on her block. I’m not too happy about that, but when you’re a kid you do stupid things just to get the other kinds to like you; and most of the time they don’t like you anyhow, so it seems rather pointless, really. Now that I remember it, me and my friends uses to catch bees in peanut butter jars; you just flipped the jar over on top of them and slid the jar top back on. We used to have millions of them in one peanut jar, buzzing and smacking they’re wings against the peanut butter jar glass. You could always find them cause they hovered over honeysuckle plants, on account of the fact that that’s what they liked to eat, and there was plenty of honeysuckles on the lawn in front of the church across the street from our house, before it burned down of course. I’d been better had the church burned down, cause I didn’t care much for the minister or the guy who ran the AA meeting.
1 comment:
lol, the off-the-cuffs just keep piling up. oh lordy, that's one troubled child!
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