He wrote it down.

Reblogged from In Others Words

In Others' Words...

Our intention was to dance on his grave.

My beautiful cousin, who I’d not seen in 35 years, and I set out to dance on our grandfather’s grave. Our first dilemma was, of course, song choice. You have to have the right song. We bandied a few song titles about, Alanis Morrisette was a front runner.

Obviously.

We drove to the town where he lived, and where he is buried. We drove to the town where we were abused. Driving down the picturesque New England roads, I felt a little faint. Mary felt a little barfy. We pulled into a store parking lot, and Mary spent some quality time behind a dumpster, hurling. It happens.

We weren’t entirely sure where the cemetery was, so we pulled into a police station to ask for directions. I said, jokingly, We should go in and file a police report. Mary said, What would…

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Some Things Won’t Be Forgiven

A harried mother came to the urgent care center where I was working her five-year old-boy wearing nothing but a sheet and a frown.  He was obviously unhappy with his mother and in distress as I assessed him and asked him the problem.  “I’ve got this big hard piece of tape stuck on the end of my pecker and it won’t come off.  She’s had me sitting in the bathtub all morning, and it ain’t come off yet!”  With this he shot her a murderous look.  She explained he’d had a circumcision recently and the dressing was still clinging stubbornly.

He  broke back in f’uriously, “I told you I didn’t want no surgery!  Ever’thin’ was workin’ just fine till you hired somebody to whittle on me!”

I wasn’t getting in that family fight!