Here are a few memories I have from when I lived in Corpus Christi, TX.
-I remember
always waking up before everyone. I never wanted to sleep in as a 2-3 year old. I had so many
things to do and see, I guess. I would usually do one of two things. I would
always be ready to eat, and I suppose that’s necessary for the king of the
castle…to get his way…
I would always help my mom by preparing the food before
she got up though, so I guess you could say I was a gracious king. I would
crack an egg or two into whatever pan I could reach. But, of course, I had no idea
how to cook. Nor did I have the knowledge of electric stoves at the time, so
your concerns should be quelled knowing that I walked away only half done with
breakfast.
Maybe that’s why I still leave projects unfinished.
The other thing I did, while the eggs cooked in the kitchen
breeze, was to get my caffeine fix from all the unfinished coffee mugs sitting
in the dining room table. Those mugs were filled with lipstick stains, lies,
and lost poker money. By the way, I paid attention to the lipstick stains. Those
cups had the sweetest coffee in them. I only later understood - men don’t soften
things up. They’re tough on things, and like things to be tough back to em.
I remember my grandmother. I remember always
being a little shit, and that’s definitely never changed now that I’m older. I
remember her being there for quite some time. But, sadly the memories are vague
now. I have been told, I got a little wooden snake for Christmas or a Birthday,
and I would play with it too close to her. This caused her to get flustered,
and in reply to her asking me to ‘Get that thing away from me, Nicholas. I
don’t like snakes!’ I would run over to her and say,
‘Grama! Yes you do!’
‘No I don’t!’
Yes, you do!’
And so on…
My grandmother had a little toy poodle
named Prissy. That little bitch ate my He-Man toys. But she only ate the hands up. She would
terrorize the toilet paper and then decorate the living room with it. I guess we weren't as hip to the latest Shit show fashions as she was.
She was a
yappy dog, but I don’t remember her being annoyingly loud. Just an annoying
pent up little asshole, who ate my toys hands. I’ll never understand why just
the hands. It’s not like they fed her…
One night my Grama let my sister and I eat
dog food. I think I recall my mom and aunt going to see a movie. So we stayed at
home, up late, watching Masterpiece Theatre with Grama. Naturally, while
playing with our fingerless toys. At one point, Kitty my sister, thought she
wanted to see what dog food tasted like. So, we asked Grama what it tasted
like, and if we could try some. I think my Grama was a bit reticent, but
couldn’t really stop us, so we each took a piece.
SALTY! With an odd chewy texture, kind of
like if you’ve ever bitten into a bouillon cube. (Don’t lie, ya dicks! I know
some of you have!)
I don't remember us being repelled by it. I think we were both more in the mood to
scratch our heads at how odd our dog was for liking something so weird…but, I
can’t say for sure that we both weren't appalled. I suppose now I might have a
different opinion, but I haven’t tried any since then and I don’t really plan
on revisiting the idea anytime soon.
I also remember my grandmother’s gas mask
and oxygen tank.
My grandmother had, and passed away from,
emphysema. She spent most of her time on the couch, and obviously, moved very
little. I still see the withered frame with thinning white straw-hair. She wore
a gown and dark colored socks.
Always.
I don’t ever think I saw her eat, but I
suppose she always had a glass of water nearby. And a constant stream of oxygen
through the little nose-piece attached to a greenish tube running to her tank. I still wonder
why those always seem to be green…
I don’t remember her passing away, or my mom
and aunt being upset. I think they were prepared for it, and handled it well.
I think we did get rid of the dog very quickly afterward
though.
