Skeletons in my closet

The silent running dialogue that I often have with myself.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

All GIRLS HAVE SUPER POWERS

All Little Girls have super powers!

Had to admit I loved reading a nice story by Gunner, not much of a techie so excuse me if I fail to post it all nice and smooth.

A simple link will have to do http://chasingbasquiat.blogspot.com/!

Now this forced me to relive several moments in my mind that easily support my theory that all little girls have super powers.

My sister was easily the favorite. She was never far from being perfect if she was not perfect in fact. She was always diligent, thoughtful, and attentive to whatever my moms and pops were about at the moment. SHE COULD DO NO WRONG!

SideNote: My sister and I had a great relationship until she turned into a girl around 12, and then we didn’t get along for our remaining high school years. She is a little older than I, and she was much more aware so to speak. She never hesitated to point out my errors and her triumphs. Fast forward to the now, we are really good friends again. Funny how life works. Sometimes you got to grow apart to grow together.

Now, back when we were kids two random cultural events coincided to eventually bring about my sisters necessity to use her super powers.
Carpooling &
The Dozens!

Now for those of you who do not know at a couple of points back in USA history we had these oil shortages; some company getting rich, why are we still driving gas guzzlers, moments. So people carpooled. In the somewhat rural south, everyone owns a car. It is the chief mode of transportation. We don’t have subways in my city, and mass transit busses are a joke. So everyone has a car. Well to save money, environment, and time, my family along with several other families formed car pools.

Now carpools are a jungle, true Darwinism at play. The strong survive. The strong make it to the front passenger seat. The strong get to choose the radio stations. The strong get to bring tapes they made at home and play them all the way home.

My sister was the strong. I was the heir to the throne. She won hers with civility, manners, and batting of eyelashes. I earned mine through backseat confrontations, wrestling and the dozens.

Now for those of you who don’t know dozens, dragging, fronting, driving, are all Ebonics for talking about someone. Not just “ya momma” jokes, these drives always contained enough truth to be far more damaging than just jokes. It wasn’t a good drive if at the end someone didn’t have his or her feelings hurt or a fight didn’t break out.

Now when it comes to driving, I was good. I could take a lot of punishment and wait. Cause all it would take is one zinger.

One “Your so nappy it look like ants on salt meat!”

One “Your breath smell like ass pops”

SideNote: Man that was hard to pull some of them out, anybody remember any good ones

If you got one in, it would cause so much laughter that your opponent feared to come back, and usually countered with a f*ck you.

Well, as it happened one day my sister, occupying her lofty front seat perch decided she would interact with the dregs in the back. I was in my usual role being challenged by some upstart, defending my flank, fretting all attempts to overtake me. My lovely sister interjected at the most inopportune moment. She sides against me! She tries to drive her own brother.

“Well at least he took a bath last night unlike some people I know!” She chimed in excessive exuberance.

SideNote: For some reason her exact statement fails me upon recollection. I am not sure if that was the exact quality of the comment. Whatever it was I do remember that the drive was weak, but it was enough. It was a superior party trampling over a peon. All of the climbing and fighting I had done would be lost by her one statement.

I could hear the low murmur of laughter as it built its strength and courage to project itself. I watched as my subjects whom I lorded over with a righteous hand suffered in holding back their laughter. My sister had betrayed me, et tu Brutus, et tu…..

I had but one moment. I had but one chance to save my kingdom. I had to strike.

“Well, So…” I started off unsure. What were my chances of success, could I do it?

“Well, so…even after you bathe you still have black rings on your butt” It was the dagger for which I searched. I cut to the meat of her soul.

SideNote:
For those of you who don’t know, some women have a slight discoloration right underneath the buttock. Under each cheek. I say some because I don’t want to say all. Light skin women have it also. I even think the few other ethnic groups I have dealt with have some version of this booty patch. It is caused by friction, and other natural phenomenon, I am sure the answer guys on “Myth Busters” have some theories.

At any rate, she opened herself up and I got her. I got her good. She shrunk down in her thrown almost as if she knew her reign was over. I smiled with victory. Eagerly awaiting my throne. I was king of the car now…the queen is dead.

We pull in my driveway. My sister scuttles out, and heads straight in. I laugh and enjoy the cheers from my adoring public. I promise them more tomorrow, but know I must leave them. I enter through the back door; we were latch key kids after all. As I turn the corner next to the refrigerator, I hear the swoosh. I turn just in time to see my sister swinging a broom handle towards my head. Her stance was perfect, she was the mighty Kacy, it was a Sosa, Bonds, and McGuire, home run all rolled into one.

I tried to duck. To late. CRACK!!!! I am hurt and dizzy all at once. The true queen had risen to take back her thrown in the private halls of the Castle. She stood over me as I lay there with her fist balled, and lip snarled.

She proclaimed, ”You will never talk about me like that again!”

I wiped the blood and tears from my eyes. She had hurt me, but I was not wounded. I would survive, and vengeance was mine. She recoils realizing that I am not staying down. I jumped up, as she retreated. She runs for the inner fortress (her room), I am right behind her. Yards turn to feet, feet turn to inches, inches later I have her in my grasp. I spin her around, she really still looks angry. I pull back and “KaPow” punch my sister in the stomach. She falls to the ground in tears, crawling to her room. I stand over her happy to have my revenge.

Then she says, “Ima tell daddy on you!”

I fall to my knees, still bloody, still dizzy. I fear the reprisal.

My dad gets home at 6:30pm.

I hide in my room.

My dad places his keys on the kitchen table.

I hide in my room.

My sister runs to report my act of aggression.

I hide and try to make my small head wound worse. Damn my mother for her EMS like training at healing wounds.

My dad voice rumbles as he calls me.

I hide in my room.

The door opens to my room. DANG! Don’t he see this head wound. Don’t he see this blood. Don’t he see she started it first. Don’t he see her standing in the door with a menacing look of glee.

SideNote:
My dad almost broke my spirit with that beating. I ran into belt straps, I jumped into open handed slaps, I even think I dived into a fist in the chest.

Well let’s give you a little dénouement.

She kept the front seat. She remained the queen.

I never hit a girl again in my life. Not even “Baby Momma”!!!

I understood then that girls have super powers. My sister had a mind trap on my dad stronger than the force field by Jean Grey, or Sue Richards. She was the tempest of Storm. She could control the actions of us mere mortals.

My daughter has that same super power on me.

More on that later.

3 Comments:

  • At 9:28 AM, Blogger Gunner Kaufman said…

    I too had the annoying sibling, that i wanted, just once, to catch her ass in a dark alley. Yet she too was protected by my pops, old skool, ex green beret sgt. from NAM..and he was double my size, so she lived a pleasant life. But i also now see, while my daughter may very well decide to bungie jump off the couch while holding her brothers dreads in her hands, he may scream in pain, he might even look at her hard, but he knows that he will never catch her in the alley, because she too has a protector. Little girls are friggin' amazin' man, straight amazing!!!

     
  • At 9:40 AM, Blogger Serenity23 said…

    LMAO. I can just picture you as a kid in the backseat talking trash. But you should have known that your sister was daddy's little girl... HA! And just what happens when a couple has two girls? Who gets the thrown then? I had a sister and her ass was always the protected one.hmmm. Makes me mad all over again.

     
  • At 12:22 PM, Blogger Dee said…

    Dam I got "jipped" cause I didn't have no dam powers!!!! My mamma whooped me and my brothers asses just the same!!! LOL
    great post!!!

     

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