He cursed and struggled to remove the thick rectangular pencil from his thigh. Roy’s screams were heard all the way down to Highway 51. Grammy leaned against the heavy oak coffee table and wound up, a large carpenter’s pencil in her hand. She muttered something in gibberish as she groped in her pocket. Roy fumbled with his box of ammo in the end table drawer, when my Grammy came back to life. My mother shrieked a high long sound like a warning, her mouth all round like an “O”. My Grammy and I both landed on the plastic runner, and we simultaneously gasped for air, like goldfish out of our bowl. I hit the floor hard and it knocked the wind out of me. She warbled my name and dropped me on our way down. My mother screamed and I felt my Grammy go all limp and loose like overcooked spaghetti.
Roy had apparently had enough for the next thing he said was, “None of you assholes ever listen,” and pumped his shotgun at Kink. The poodles were yipping and yapping, and I was howling, working myself into a serious meltdown. “Kink, I don’t want to argue about this, hand him over!” said my mother firmly.
“No, Katelyn I am not handing over MY son!” Grammy Kink insisted. He’s due for a nap and it’s time you two had a break,” my momma reasoned. Grammy Kink pirouetted away before my mother could gather me up, skipping daintily over the knick-knacks flung to the floor by Roy’s tantrum. “Baby Wayne, what is that racket all about?” my mother clucked as my chubby arms reached for her. This exchange elicited more sobbing from me, and the resulting cacophony sent my mother hustling over from our shack to investigate. “Roy! I told ya to quit talking to the baby like that. “Dammit Kink! I’m trying to relax here and that brat is keeping me from it.” he shouted. As a wail erupted from me, Grammy Kink had me up on the carousel ride again until Roy slammed his beer can down on the end table.
Lend me your ears lavc skin#
She peeled me off the slipcover, leaving the top layer of my soft baby skin behind as a reminder of my passage. When she tired of our jig, she lay me down on couch and cooed to me while deftly changing my diaper, only occasionally stabbing herself or me with the pins. I slid dangerously down the front of her polyester pantsuit, threatening to splat on the rug and become a mess like the swirling pattern she proudly wore. She threw back her head and cackled, the curlers jiggling in her pastel pink-toned hair. Grammy scooped me up, and twirled us around the lavender velour plastic slip covered sofas, narrowly avoiding a fall as the poodles danced and barked underfoot. The doll dress prevented me from executing a proper crawl but I managed to scoot in her direction. Kink’s gonna fix ya right up.” Grammy said. “Now Roy, I won’t have ya talkin’ that way to my baby! C’mere ya precious angel. Man, what is in your drawers boy?” hollered Roy. “Roy, bring me the baby, I think it’s time for his bottle.” “Naw, ya know what time it is? It’s time for that stinky brat to go home.
0 kommentar(er)
