The Bohemoth and the Boonanny

I don't remember when this occured in my life, but I was young. The craziest shit happens when you're just a boy, huh? My mother used to have me go to a babysitter afterschool back in the day. Short walk, moms worked 2 jobs, and I think this is before the latchkey kid era was fully in effect. And if anyone read the house on fire story, you'd send my ass away from home too.
Well, anyways, I loved going to this place, been there since I was a baby actually. This lady did it all, braided my hair to cornrows when momma aint have the time, to beatin my ass when I was out of line. Everykid in this house was bonified cousins. And that's a lot of kin because she had to have at least 25 of us in this 1 family house.
Sometimes there was new kids, and to welcome them in was to whup they ass. I mean, this ws before we knew shit about bloods and crips. We seriously jumped niggas into the babysitters house. It was a right of passage.
But, this one time, there was a muthafukka we couldn't jump. It was virtually impossible. The new girl, I forgot her name. All I recall was size aand girth. If at that time in my life, I knew what a bohemoth was, that bitch was it. It was the early 80's so I can excuse her short fro. She looked like Roj from what's happenin, little sister. Not Dee, but a shorter fatter version of Roj. No bullshit.
I'm so long winded. Anyways, the babysitter would at 3 or 4 o'clock announce snack time. And the kids in the house would go banannas, running towards the kitchen like ethiopians with air jordan sandals on to get they grub on. It was brutal at times. She hade to be a correctional officer at one point now that I think of that.
But anyways, some kids had they shit, some of us had to go to the store. I was always the store go-er. One day, the bohemeth tagged along. So, we're walking to the spot and she goes;

"Let's go back there for a few minutes"
I had to flashback in order to make some quick decisions....

This chick was on me. From day one. You know when you a kid and you like someone, so you beat them up? Yeah, I was chased around the backyard more then a few times while she was there. I missed my calling as a defensive boxer, from all the dipping and dodging her haymakers.

So anyways, back to that little corner. As always, I seem to look at my 20/20 hindsight and see clearer. Hell. We get back there, for what I didn't know, but I sure was about to find out. She pulls me back there, pulls down her pants and her panties, and directs me to put "it" in. So, at 7 years of age, I'm thinking that "it" meant an object of some sort. So, I'm scanning the ground for something to use, like a twig or a leaf. Something, it had to be something out there. Ahhh Haaa. I found a rock of some sort. And I go to grab it. Not a good look, she yoked me up and and proceeded to give instructions;

Her: "No, stupid, not that, put your thing in"
Me: "Huh?"

She yoked me up again, and demanded me to unbuckle my pinstripe lee jeans. That isn't important, but I just had to remind myself this was the 80's. Well, she did the shit for me, with my halfway help I suppose. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, apparently;

Her: "Start humping"
Me: "Hump what?!"
Her: "Me stupid"

Now what was supposed to happen is beyond my ass. What were her intentions? What 7 year old gets an erection? And if I could get one, it wouldn't have been wasted on that pussy. Bet your bottom dollar that shit there. Needless to say, with a dick with the movement of a wet egg noodle, there was noooo penetration. This was clearly molestation. If I were maybe 14 or so, its what white people call "experimentng". She kept telling me to "put it in", "put it in", but all I could manage to get in was the knuckle of my forefinger. Which seemed to have some sort of grease on it. Whatever, I had to stop this madness. I tell her; "we gonna get in trouble, we better go".
So we bounce from the spot to get our asses to the store. I told her to go ahead of me, I'd catch up. Even at the tender age I was I was a genius to realize that I should not be seen in public with the bohemeth. Again, picture Raj from what's happenin, two feet shorter, three feet wider, and her right eye clearly had its own agenda.
When we get back to the house, I was feeling some type of nervous. I was probably shaking and shit. But I beared down and just started to eat my snacks. So, I'm starting to eat my chips, and I get a whiff of my knuckle.

Me: "What the fuck?"

Well, I didn't start dropping F bombs until I was perhaps a year older. The thing was that the stench from my knuckle was something uncanny. I don't think I have smelled a funk like that up until that point. OMG. Is this something that I had to look forward too? I mean, I'm sitting at the table, and I couldn't digest my cinnamon twirls.. I kept wondering just what it was. That can do a lot of damage to such an active brain. It was the type of funk that probably would take 3 calendar years to get rid of. Perhaps even longer. Perhaps I'd have to be put in isolation, or maybe even sacrifice my finger to science. All was possible at that point. I wouldn't dare ask her about it. I didn't have the strenth to duck any haymakers at that point. I ran straight to the bathroom as soon as I could. I scrubbed and scrubbed for what seemed like a lifetime. It still had a lingering odor. I was damned near about to cry. The shit stayed on my knuckle like O.J. stayed on white women. I just knew I was in trouble. All I could think was that somehow, the babysitter or some adult would get a hold of it and beat upon my ass.
Shit, I was walking around this house with my knuckle smelling like spoiled play-doh. Indian food that was shitted out of a mexican's ass after eating bean burittos.
Seriously, for a very long time, I was a little antsy about pussy. I thought from that point that all vaginas had the same odor. When I was going thru puberty, I'd imagine getting some sex, but I was always imagining doing "it" with a clothespin on my nose.
For a long time, I'd look at chicks and say to myself "I bet her cooch stanks". Strangely enough though, its the ones that I just knew didn't, did. Sighs.
I don't know what ever happened to the bohemoth, and I don't think I want too. But in hindsight, I do understand that, even in explaining this in a somewhat comical way, there is something wrong.
Because, if I was young, so was she. That wasn't anything that she picked up by watching electric company or sesame street. This chick was molested. This girl was taken advantage of. This young girl was abused. Some cycles are indeed vicious.