FatKidsLie

Once in the late 1980’s in Queens, NY where there were fully nude strip clubs on the main streets in a major city and drug dealers and pimps roamed the streets in fur coats and purple fedoras with giant peacock feathers attached to them like something out of a blacksploitation movie, my grandmother got mugged. It wasn’t really much of a mugging. The guy didn’t pull a knife or a gun or a stick with a nail in it or anything like that. It was really a snatch-and-grab type deal.

Some delinquent decided that an old lady, who was about 4ft nuthin’, wearing a mink coat would give up her sequined purse that was chock full of hard candy, a change of jewelry and a gangster roll of cash without a fight. But he didn’t realize that old people are usually not afraid to fight because they have no friends since they’ve outlived them all and are not afraid to die because they are old and get visits from the Grim Reaper every time they sit down on the toilet and will not take the kind of crap that stealing their purse in a snatch-and-grab type robbery entails from some young whippersnapper like you ya filthy punk hoodlum.

So when the guy tried to grab the bag and run away Grandma just stood there. Planted like the brick shithouse she was. The would-be robber just stopped, turned around, grabbed the purse with both hands, tried to pull it away and said what only some fucktarded criminal could possibly think of saying to a grandma that you’ve failed to mug: “Leggo th’ bag ya old bitch!”.

Grandma then reached back (like a pimp) and knocked that idiot out.

And knocked a tooth out of his head.

A construction worker was already rushing to her aid, took her by the hand and sat her down on a nearby bench. The robber started to get up and some kids said “no… you got knocked out by a grandma. You stay down now. You wait for the police to arrest you and take you away in a shameful way that you deserve.”

When the cops came they took one look at the robber, and then at my grandmother and wanted to arrest her for knocking him out so hard. So hard that he peed his pants.

My cousin Louis was mentally handicapped. Since I normally use “retarded” as an insult I’m not going to call him that. Because I thought he was an awesome guy.

He was a creepy looking dude, dressed all in black with a black trench coat and had long messy stringy greasy hair and a scraggly beard and watched Startrek and was just gross and weird and awesome. He looked like one of those guys that would listen to Nine Inch Nails or Type O or whatever, only I don’t think he listened to much music. I think he was just creepy looking.

He claimed he couldn’t read but I’m not so sure. How else could he have learned CB radio lingo, and given directions for a whole convoy of truckers to encircle my block by offering them cut-rate pep pills and blowjobs? Hell… How’d he find a hand-held CB radio anyway?

He couldn’t find his way around his neighborhood in Queens, yet he figured out how to escape from the institute (can I just say “asylum”?) by breaking into the HVAC ducts and shimmying his way out. He then walks up to his house and sits down at the kitchen table like nothing out of the ordinary’s going on.

Then there was the time that he went to Puerto Rico.

This was back in the days before 9/11 and everything so you could just… yaknow… get on a plane and fly. SOMEhow he gets to JFK airport and starts talking to the girl at the ticket sales counter: “Hey… I’ve heard Puerto Rico’s really nice… how much is it to go there?”; hands her all his money; gets on the plane and flies down there like you or I would get on the bus and go to the mall.

A day or two later his mom (my aunt) gets a call from a woman who says that Louis is sitting on their porch, in Puerto Rico, with no money to get home. The dude was sitting on the beach, in a black trench coat and hat, all dazed and confused (because of the heatstroke) and this woman took him in. My aunt thinks it’s a hoax, but then realizes that her son is weird enough to do shit like that.

When I was a kid my mom and my friend’s mom made us play outside. All the time.

This isn’t so odd because in the 1980’s we only had like 4 TV stations and no real internet. But we had Huffy bikes. And parks.

So my friend Andy and I would get our bikes and ride up to this park and play there all the time. Even though there were crackheads, and trench coat flashers and bad-touch vans we went about a half mile away from our homes, with no parental supervision.

So anyway ahem we’d hang out at the park and talk about how icky girls like Clairebeast were. And one day, we found out that the lake in the park was our local emergency reservoir (because a kid got drowned in there because he was swimming and they turned on the pumps for a maintainance check or something and he got sucked in …).

So after being lectured by our own parents, and then every one of our friend’s parents and the representative from the Water Board and our school’s principal the main thing that Andy and I got out of that is that we could pee in the lake. And then everyone would drink our pees.

And that. Would. Be. AWESOME

At this park there’s a bridge with two pump-houses. Where hobos sometimes stashed jugs of booze and drugs and crackheads sometimes died or whatever it is that they do… So, we’d get on the bridge, climb onto the stone railing and then pee. Every day. For an entire summer.

The other day, my girlfriend and I went to the park and I told her about this. Then I did some mental calculations, and realized how dumb we were. Because the whole thing is cleaned before it gets to your taps. And also the amount of pee 2 8 year old boys can produce is nothing compared to the sheer volume of water in that lake.

Also, if we peed in there, and then we drank it, we’d be drinking our own pee too. That part simply failed to register in our little 2nd grader minds. Because boys are retarted.

All of us.

Forever.

When I was in first grade i was super smart. I got to sit at the head of the class, and when all the other turdlings couldn’t answer the questions it was my fat ass that got called up to the blackboard. This caused jelousy from some of the other students. Like ClairBeast.

ClairBeast’s real name is not too important, but suffice it to say I will hold a grudge against her for the rest of my life. I’ve been holding it since 1987, so .. 23 years and counting.

One day, after answering a question on the blackboard, I go to sit down in my chair and… it’s not there. Now, before I sat down I did the standard check of “is there a chair here? Y/N”. It passed the test, so I proceeded to sit down, when ClairBeast pulled the chair out from under me, causing me to smash my face on my desk (which was made of enameled ceramics, a standard desktop material at the time).

I was gushing blood out of a hole in my cheek that was caused by a tooth popping through. Teacher, a 30 year old drunken whore according to my mother, told me to go rinse it out at the fountain. The fountain with the high lead content.

Eventually my mom got called, ran from work (3 blocks away) and got me to the hospital. Where the doctor decided that it was a case of child abuse and called the police. Who, as I’m being operated on by a recent medical school graduate from the college of Banglore Provence, decide to interrogate my mother about how often she hits me, why she hit me so hard and what she used to hit me with this time.

Meanwhile I’ve got a sheet over my head, don’t know what’s going on, and the doctor’s telling me to “Quit squirming, you little fucktard”. Or at least that’s how I remember it.

At any rate, I hate doctors, can’t stand dental work and want to punch ClairBeast in the throat. 23 years later.

I found her on Facebook. I wanna befriend her and then ask her if she remembers pulling the chair out from under me.

I don’t know why I thought of this incident, since it happened like, 13 years ago and I haven’t thought of it since. I’m sure that the statute of limitations has expired on this since it was just stupid…

When I was in highschool I got to take bowling instead of gym since I had a huge problem with group showers and changing in front of other people. Oddly enough I have little to no problem with public nudity, just the whole “all of us guys are showering together and parading around with our dicks out” thing kinda skeves me out a little. I’m all for gays being allowed to practice homosex all they want but even I have limits to what I’m comfortable experiencing.

I’d never make it in prison.

And like the man said “School is prison“… gymclass doubly so.

So in order to not be locked a room of assorted dicks I took bowling. It only met a couple times a week, so I got to get out early the other three days. Which was great for me because that meant I could drink 40z and smoke up at the train station or in my friend’s garage. It further proves that bowling is the slacker’s golf.

One day, after a particularly successful couple frames, I decided to get a Milkyway bar from the vending machine. I put in my 50c. I pushed E6 (which is always where you get a Milkyway bar), the screw turned and turned and turned and stoped. With my Milkyway bar still stuck in there.

Bastards. I stomped back and forth. Walked to Karen and Bill and said “Motherfucking machine took my money” Bill responded with “Take your revenge…” and handed me a 12lb green tigerseye bowling ball. WIth a chip in it. I looked at Karen, since she was a fairly attractive girl with GIANT boobs and I was 16 I had to do what she said. So I followed her advice when she said “Yes. Do it. It is the ONLY way…”.

I picked up the bowling ball and went over to the vending machine with Bill and Karen following and … the door was plexiglass. Which is a bitch and a half to break with a bowling ball lemmetellsya.

Now infuriated I grab the machine and start shaking it like a Polaroid picture or a baby under the care of a British nany or a fat chick on a bus or whatever shaking thing you can think of. Use your imagination. It won’t hurt.

The employees at the bowling alley as well as the teacher just stared in wonder and amazement as I flipped that vending machine over onto its front, and then upside down and back unseating all the snackfoods and dropping them to the bottom for easy access for all the miscreants in the class. I simply took my Milkeyway bar, and a couple baggies of combos (as payback for making me flip over the machine) and went back to bowling.

Milkeyways are that good.