Monday, April 14, 2003 "Have you grown in your work?"
It's getting closer and closer to time for me to put together my writing portfolio to try to win the coveted Catloving Spinster prize my school offers to *ahem* the graduating senior with the best literary instincts. I'm really tempted to include the stuff I wrote when I was about 10. I still think it's some of my best, and they did ask for an introductory essay about "the genesis of your work." My thesis involves a malcontented 12 year old, who shows up in the story by way of her old journals. When I look at my old stuff, I do feel like I've stumbled across another person, but one to whom I'm connected. Did that sound convincing? I hope so. I really want to add my weirdie kid's stories to my portfolio.
Here's one of the best, a series of letters and school assignments from a little boy much like the Little Precious I now live with.
My Favorite Place in the Whole House
By Billy Sugar, age six
My favorite place in the whole house is the dryer. This white metal palace of wonders has held me in its revolving trance ever since I was very young.
When I was just three (3) years old I watched my mommy clean the lint trap. I was hooked! At first I just learned to clean it myself (all the while hiding my booty under the bed––wasn’t Mommy surprised…), but after awhile I discovered its pleasure was two-fold. It happened quite by accident when I was four (4). Mommy had just started a load, and I was putting in the hallway rug to make more lint, and….Wheeee! I was sucked in. It was so much fun, just like the teacups at Disneyland.
Sometimes I just sit in it, and sometimes Mommy turns it on. She used to check to see if I was in it or not. Now she takes it for granted that I am.
Once after Sunday school, I decided to share the blisss. I brought my cat, Mr. Spanky, in with me. Then I had to go to The Emergency Room, for I was bleeding on the socks.
Pretty much the same thing happened when I brought my friend “Gordo” over to play. Except “Gordo” got stuck. Mommy and me didn’t notice. For five long hours. We had to call the fire department. They had to get the “Jaws of Life.” I even got to be on T.V.!! I don’t see “Gordo” any more.
Bye for now,
Billy
Billy’s Letters from Camp
Dear Mommy and Daddy,
I have completed that first magical day of camp. After you slowed the car down enough to give me that friendly shove au revoir, I wandered around until I found the new camper warden. I got assigned to cabin three (3). My counselor’s name is Pherd. Pherd is nice but sometimes he screams and howls and scratches his skin for no reason. Then he has to take some white powder medicine up his nose.
There are many nice people in my bunk. There used to be seven of us, but there are only six now. The seventh one was “Gordo.” You remember “Gordo”. He got stuck in the dryer and I got to be on T.V.! Anyway, as soon as I saw him, I ran up to him, kissed him on both cheeks, and yelled, “Hi, ‘Gordo’, remember me?!?”. When I did that, ol’ “Gordo” turned white as the proverbial sheet. He fainted. He had to go to the infirmary. The nurse called his parents. They came to pick “Gordo” up. They saw me. You should have heard the tires squeal.
Well, Pherd says that we have to go make bug juice.
Bye for now,
Billy
Hi Mommy, Daddy, and Mr. Spanky!
When I closed last, I had forgotten to tell you of my fourteen new friends. His real name is Timmy, But he claims that he has thirteen different personalities. He pushed me off the canoe dock. Actually, the personality who pushed me was named Eddy. But I digress. His personality named Phil is going to teach me how to build a real fire after lights out.
Sincerely,
Billy
Greetings Family,
Camp is lots of good clean fun. They make us do all kinds of things. We learned how to make lanyards in arts ‘n crafts. It is great fun. So far I have made seventeen lanyards. (Guess what you’re all getting for Christmas….)
Some people got to make wooden birdhouses while I was lanyarding. The counselor thinks that it is better if me and my friends stay away from sharp objects after the wood carving debacle.
There are only thirteen of my friend now––Howard turned against me, but I’m okay as long as he doesn’t surface. (When he does, he tries to scratch my eyes out.)
S.W.A.K.,
Billy
P.S. What is a lanyard? What does one do with a lanyard? The counselor won’t tell us.
The True Meaning of Christmas
This year for our X-mas extravaganza, our family went to the land of oranges and outsized roaches and talking cartoon characters. The place trip was great, but I had put all my free stuff in my little bag. Then I had to use my little bag.
We arrived at the airport, but by some bizarre twist of fate, I took the wrong bus. (Actually, Mommy said it was the right bus, but we all make mistakes.)
I was taken to a picturesque little area that I found out was called skid row.
Since I had lifted Mommy’s Mastercard, I had no trouble in finding motel accommodations. I chose the Hotel Coral Sleeping Camel Palm Mirage because I liked the name. I was thrilled to the marrow when I saw “Gordo’s” family’s car in the lot. It’s easy to recognize.
After “Gordo” and his family ran screaming. “Get thee away, Hellspawn” (That’s their pet name for me), I checked into my room, only to discover that I was thirsty. I decided to visit the bar. When I walked in the door, to what should my wondering eyes appear but……Santa Claus! I ran over to him immediately. There were a few things I wanted to ask about undelivered presents. I slowed down as I got closer. Not only was the stench almost overpowering, but Santa had a hook for a hand! Undaunted, I leapt into his lap. Santa had been asleep, and was not expecting me. I narrowly missed getting stabbed. After I calmed him down, he explained that he was not the real Santa Claus, but one of Santa’s helpers. He also said that he was homeless, wanted by the police, and that when he found the Santa Suit, he figured it was a good disguise.
I started to bawl. I was hoping he could give me stuff. He patted my head and told me not to cry. Then he gave me his hook! I gave him a hug and a kiss and three lanyards. He said, “Thanks, now what the @#$% are these things?!!” Just as I was about to tell him that he could hide from the fuzz at our house, the cops kicked in the door and arrested the Jolly Old Elf.
The last sight I saw was the paddy wagon pulling away. Santa was holding onto the bars with his hand, and waving his stump. He called, “Au revoir, Billy, I promise to look you up after I get out.”
Then Mommy and Daddy showed up and whisked me off to Disney World. I forgot everything, and only remembered this much after lots of therapy.
Tootles,
Billy
My Greatest Ambition
My greatest ambition is to own a laundromat.
posted by Frenz | 4/14/2003 02:42:00 PM
0 comments
|
