Have you ever noticed that the memories from when you were younger seem to be in black and white?
One memory in particular that I have is of my next door neighbor, Ted Cleaver. We used to call him “Beaver” because when he was a kid he was attacked by a Beaver.
We used to play “cowboys and indians”, hopscotch and “Give me back my sneakers”. Just a couple of rabble-rousers, you know.
Beav had a brother named Wally. We called him that because when he was a kid, he was attacked by a wall. We were kind of afraid of Beav’s dad. They called him Sir. Not because he commanded respect, but because he always seemed to be wearing a tie, even in his swimming trunks.
One night Wally was getting ready to go on a date with Mary Pitcher, the cutest dang girl in a square mile. Wally got all dressed up in a suit! Boy, did he look silly! I remember Beav made a comment about Wally’s clothes. Something like “Hey you’re wearing clothes”. Wally didn’t like that one bit. He got all quiet like. Then all of a sudden, he kicked Beav square in the chest. He grabbed Beav by the hair and dragged him outside. Wally then tied Beav to the back of Sir’s car with a rope and dragged him around the block a couple of times. That was the last time we saw that rope.
Some of the later memories feel like they have a little more color. When I was a kid, I was adopted by a nice couple who had tragically lost their daughter. There names were Mam and George.
Their house was really neat. It had a dumb waiter that I could fit in, a secret passage behind the Grandfather clock, and a real live Grandfather in the attic!
The neighbor kid’s name was “Skippy”. He would come over and we would play for hours. I remember one time he made a comment about how I was being raised by people that were not my parents. I got all quiet like. Then, all of a sudden I kicked Skippy square in the chest. I grabbed him by his hair and dragged him outside. Then, I tied him to the back of Sir’s car and dragged him around the block a couple of times.
Oh, we called him “Skippy” because when he was a kid he was attacked by bees.
Somethings never change.
“That was the last time we saw that rope.”
Brilliant, sir. Just brilliant.
Though I have the nagging feeling this is a brief snippet from some therapist’s session with a person who has, or will, kick someone in the chest and then drag them around the block with their dad’s car a few times.
I feel… perplexed, but I think I like it.
Oh good! Perplexion was what I was going for.