FOUND IT....but where the eff is the rest????? grumble grumble

Rambunctious. If someone asked me to give them one word that describes me as a youth, that would be the word. And, speaking of the word, word. Thank God for Microsoft word, because I did not know how to spell that shit. As a kid, I remember being called wild, amongst other things that would fall from my mother's mouth, but I am trying to make a G rated book. I am not too concerned with her finding out about me divulging all of this. She only reads books of substance. This is indeed not in this category.

When I was about 7, I lived on 5thstreet, in the hood of the brick city. I cant remember all the details, I just remember there were a lot of Puerto Ricans. The apartments were next to a softball field and behind the field was the city subway line. I had two best friends at the time named Willie and Paul. We did everything together, we were in the same second grade class. Our teacher I believe her name was Mrs. Huganin, or some shit. I will call her Ms. H, because I am not about to type that name, and I am sure even Microsoft cant even spell check that shit. What I remember of her is that she was a black woman, kind of heavyset. All adults were heavyset as far as I was concerned though. This class was the most wild class I could imagine being in. I don't not recall ever doing class work or anything, we just ran around yelling and screaming and throwing shit. Now that I think about it, Ms H smoked cigarettes in the class, and spent most of the day with her head down. As I write this I am becoming nervous, because what if this was a fucking "special education" classroom? And also while I am writing this, I remember the teacher that put me in this mess to begin with.

Miss Fucking Green, my 1st grade teacher from another school. This chick had me kicked out of the school in the month of May because we moved to another town. I mean there was a fire in our house in the middle of a school year for goodness sakes. Now that I think about it, she was one of those unfortunate adults who saw the genius that was me, and was immediately disappointed in her own short comings. This woman was just mean. I do not know why or how or what I ever did to her. Was it my slight case of tourettes? Or was it that I was late getting to school in the Salvation Army clothes that we can only afford with the whopping 80 bucks a month I got for child support? Which by the way, I recall her pointing out to the rest of the class a few times. Did I say she was mean by the way ? I specifically remember when my pencil broke and she told me to just use the damn "pencil point". Every time I see the original wizard of oz movie, I think of her as the witch. Thanks to her I ended up in the retard class, which is probably the best, for I do not wish to be put upon the pedestal that I deserve to be on. I like the common folk.

All I remember about that summer was the rubber band. When I was kid, I don't think I was afraid of anything more then I was of getting popped with a rubber band. Especially the fat ones. Yeah, I'd pop you with one, but don't come towards me with that crap. There's going to be some consequences. The consequence was me ending up in the hospital for a week or so. Me and this chubby Puerto Rican kid named angel were laying cops and robbers or something, and we used rubber bands to shoot at one another like guns. For some reason, I was the robber, and fat angel was chasing me with the rubber band. We ran all through the field, there was no way to catch me, I was a genius, and he was chubby, there is no way I was getting locked up. No way at all. So in my criminal mind, so fresh with ideas at the ripe age of 8, I decided to climb up the softball fence, and shoot rubber bands from above. Damn right, that was a good idea. Superb comes to mind when describing it really. Now the top of the fence was a local hang out of most of the kids during the summer, we would jump on it, roll around, do whatever we pleased. So I was very comfortable. Chubby angel would not be climbing his robust behind up here and I was a sure winner in this battle of the minds.

So I am on the top of the fence, and I am reloading the rubber bands off of my forearm like I was Rambo. PAP, POW, PAP PAP, PAP POW. He got nothing for me. However, before I heard another PAP, I heard SNAP. The damn top of the gate gave way. I just knew that I was falling in slow motion. Slow motion in your mind doesn't mean a damn thing when in reality, you are traveling downward at a speed that would break records. BLAMMMMMMM!!!!! I hit the ground wit the same tenacity that Mike Tyson used to knock out Trevor Berbick. This would not have been so bad if this spot was used to cast away broken bottles, cans, feces, and piss. I mean this was a kid hangout during the day, but at night the freaks came out. Like fat angel's momma, angel senior. I think I laid on the ground for a good 7.6 minutes before I cried like a baby. Or should I say, screamed like I was being attacked by African killer bees. And why the expletive are they called "African"?

I immediately wanted to do some bodily harm to fat angel, because if he would have just wilted to the genius that is me, I would not be in such a situation. Yes I climbed the fence on my own free will, but why didn't he follow me? If he did, we would have fallen at the same time, and then it would be a possibility that I would land on him, thus creating a some sort of pillow or something to land on. What a selfish bastard I though to myself. He even had the ordasity to ask me for my Now & Later's candy, I guess he figured I would not be eating solids for a while, since he saw my face. He helped me up as I was screaming walked with me around to the front of the apartment building. With what I am sure was blood running down my face, I screamed all the way up the stairs to my 3rd floor apartment. The cuts in my grill were stinging in the worse way. I could feel the glass on the left side of my face, and the salty sweat just was pouring in. while banging on the door, I looked back and saw the blood trail that I left. Even though I was still crying, I couldn't help but to think how cool that shit looked. My mother finally opened the door, after finally turning down the teddy Pendergrass she played religiously. She looked at me in horror and said "what the hell were you doing?" teddy was still playing in the back softly, very soft in fact. So soft that I stopped hearing it. "KERPLUNK" is that sound that I am sure I made when I passed out. As it turns out, the long blood trail that I left apparently was not as cool as I initially thought.

So, I wake up in a bed in the children's hospital. Now that I think of it, I thought about what the possibility is that I did not pass out, but my mother knocked me out for being a stupid kid. In any event, I ended up in the place that I needed to be in. My face was still stinging, and from the bandages all around my head, I thought something went down during my nap. My mother was there, and she told me that I needed about 50 stitches or something like that. Now I was afraid of needles at the time, but to add "thread" into it the equation is just too much for me. I really didn't want my mother to leave, but she had to. That teddy Pendergrass album jut came out, and she had to give it a listen to.

After she left the boy in the next bed started asking some dumb ass questions, you know the kind, the non genius questions that I am so easily irked at. "Is that your mother?" Now, if I hadn't said "ma" I could see this as a valid question. But I said that over and over. I should have known right there that this guy would lead me into the depths of near deathism. I forgot his name, or maybe I didn't even care to ask what it was. He seemed like his nose was full of boogers, and he gargled with sand when he talked. He looked like the type of kid that would steal bubble gum out of the supermarket, and chew it feverously, and swallow it when he thought the gig was up. He just seemed so criminal to me for some reason. "Is your mommy coming back?" he asked. "No", I replied. No, no she wasn't I thought, and I immediately began to tear up a little bit. I mean damn, my mother left me alone in the hospital at night with this pre-criminal heavy breathing non common sense question asking (expletive). Instead of leaving the hospital, and running to my grandmother's house, which was only a block away, I stayed; this dude had some cookies.



"Wh, wh, why you in here" he asked, annoying me again. I guess the bandages on my face wasn't a big enough clue. "I fell through a fence", I said. "Damn!!!" he said. O.K. this nigga is nothing but trouble. That is it, he just cursed and he is not even 10 yet, the official age in the hood to use whatever foul language you can think of when not in the presence of adults. I looked to where my clothes were, but I would have bounced in the open back gown I was given to wear. This hard breathing sailor mouthed kid wouldn't be the end of me, No Sir. When trying to move, my body hurt like no one's business. I guess it wasn't just the face that was damaged, because everything seemed to be in pain. "So, how did you fall through a fence?" he asked. Shockingly, this was a valid question, and I was not going to tell him all the gritty details. "Let me get a cookie, and I will tell you what happened" I told him. Now I was going to have to get up regardless now. There wasn't any way that I was going to let him give me one of those cookies. I don't know where his hands have been. Yes, even as a kid, I was smart enough to know when not to eat something from someone else. His hands may have been boogery, so I would have to get out of the bed to get them myself. So I fashioned my self off of the bed, however I guess I didn't realize that I had a needle in my hand. The I.V. pulled out when I tried to walk over to the other bed. The IV pulled out of my hand, and the thing that held the bag fell over. This was the incident that made the nurses work feverously to get me released from the hospital. Instead of covering for me, this sob rang the nurses bell.

The way the nurse looked at me and talked to me the previous night, I was surprised I didn't wake up handcuffed to the bed. She must have known I would have escaped. So, here goes my second day in the children's hospital. My face is still hurting like no one's business. And as I look over, the cookie booger dude isn't in his bed. "Great", I thought. He must have been released before I woke up. The room, I would finally have to myself. There was a lot of ruckus in the hall, but I didn't care to much to find out what it was. Then low and behold, what do I see? The dude flies past the room riding on the I.V. stand. "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAA", I heard, and then a crash and boom, and then an "Oh Shit" and then it seemed like a gang of kids laughing. this dude was an idiot. to be continued....