Caught in the Act

Now I know that we all have either been caught in an act that we found a little embarrassing, well maybe more than a little or have caught someone in the act that left you both embarrassed and it seems that first one is the one you will always remember.

My parents had finished off their evening with a couple of drinks to "relax" as we are told by our parents so often as we grew up and as dad was exiting the living room and making his way down the hall he reminded us, "I don't want to hear any arguing, TV off by 11pm and in bed, don't let me have to come back and remind you." and with that he shut his bed room door behind him. This is where the sibling pecking order took place. My youngest brother made a diving leap for my dad's chair and said "Dibs.", he had marked his spot for the evening. I had been sitting on the end of the sofa when my next oldest brother decided that we wanted to stretch out on the sofa and basically demanded that I relinquish my spot so he could lay down. "Nah, I don't really feel like it, its comfortable here." I replied. "You didn't say dibs." he returned. Now any idiot knows in the rules of dibs that you do not have to claim a spot that you are already occupying, so I reminded him that he was an idiot. With that he sat at the opposite end on the sofa and little by little started sliding into a prone position staring at me the whole time with the stupid idiotic look only an older brother could display. After a few minutes I felt his toe just slightly touching me and I told him to move his foot and he said that three quarters of the sofa was his and if I did not like him touching me I could move. "Screw you." I said to him at the same time giving him the universal symbol for it. So on it went for an hour, with him changing positions often to either hold his face inches from mine staring at me or by almost touching me with his finger, close enough to be irritating, but not breaching that invisible boundary as to which part of the sofa was mine. When he wanted to be an irritating pain in the ass, my older brother was quite adept at it. After about an hour of his juvenile display I got tired of it and decided that if he was going to ruin the movie for me I was going to do likewise, but in order to do so I would have to take my younger brother down too. I looked over at him and said, "Damn I am tired, I guess it is time we went to bed." "You go and I get the sofa." he answered. "Wanna make a bet on that?" I said smiling and off down the hall I went.

Stopping in front of my parent's bed room door I heard sounds coming from inside and I hesitated for a moment before putting my hand on the door knob, I know that I should have knocked and announced myself, but this was my parent's room what could possibly be going on besides sleep. Well I soon found out, as I opened the door I believe I caught my parents in a some what of a compromising position, I did not realize that they had a contortionist act that they practiced for after they went to bed and I further assumed they were naked because the clothes wouldn't get tangled up in these various positions they were trying. But I knew that this isn't something that a dad teaches his son, but then again I never realized that they posed for the Kama Sutra either. At that point in my life I did not know what I found more terrifying, what my eyes were glued to at that moment or the horror movie on TV, I decided quickly that the horror movie definitely ranked second to this. I do not know if it was the stream of light coming from the hall and lighting them up like a spotlight on a stage or if it was the sickening groan that came from me, either way the next thing I heard and saw was my dad yelling at me while he threw his house shoe, "Don't you know how to knock?" At which point I quickly closed the door and walked back into the living room. "Dad wants to talk to you." I informed my older brother.

Another time I can remember was when I was with my best friend in junior high. We had decided to go to this in town lake and do some swimming at night off the pier and to see who else would show up through out the course of the evening. I guess we had been there for over two hours diving off the pier and swimming around the pilings when we noticed a group of cars at the far end of the small lake. I looked over at him and he said, "You see all those guys standing in line at that one car?" "Yeah, why? Just some girl they got drunk and high and she a little friendly tonight." I replied thinking about who it might be. "Wanna go over?" he asked and without replying I jumped off the pier and started towards the line in a little quicker pace than he did. I got there right before him and two more had filed in behind me before he had his place in the line and one by one they would enter the back of the car and exit a few moments later with sweat on their foreheads and a smile on their face. When my turn finally came, I too mimicked the ones before me and climbed into the back seat of the 1957 Chevy Belaire. Well I came out about as fast as I went in with my friend saying, You finished already? Didn't take you very long." "I don't really feel like it to tonight." I returned, my back to him as I was walking off. "You are a wimp Wood." he yelled out and then asked, "Who is it?" "Your sister." I replied still walking away from him. "Yeah, my sister, your momma." He yelled laughing at me. I sat down on a park bench and waited, watching silently as the two in front of him finished their business and then watched him with his pants and underwear around his ankles crawl into the back of the car. I smiled. I don't think he was in there under two seconds when he came flying out of the back seat, his pants still around his ankles but looking a lot less excited than before he went in, he was spinning around and looking from side to side as if he was wanting to find someone to take his anger out on, it didn't take him very long until he spotted me sitting at the picnic table smiling. He ran over to me screaming so loud I couldn't understand a word he was saying, his eyes were bulging and he was spitting when he talked, oh he looked a sight with his pants still around his ankles. "Why didn't you tell me that was my sister asshole?" he screamed at me. "Uh, I believe I did when you asked me who it was. You ready to go home now?"

In the small Texas town on the Texas Oklahoma border is where I spent my more informative years, those delicate days of discovery, but in order to experience it, it required that parents be sleeping as you would sneak into a girls window for a little amorous fun. But this required stealth, planning and timing in order to make it work out to ones advantage and the first phase is sneaking out of the house after the city's mandatory age curfew without the knowledge of your parents and living in a house that was over 150 years old you had to know where each and every creaking floor board was at, which banister rail was shaky and when exactly your parents were sound asleep. We lived in a two story house with my parent's bed room downstairs and the stairs and front door next to their bed room door, so it was a tricky maneuver to escape after dark and rendezvous with the object of your desire. Now this caught in the act is two fold and I do not know which embarrassed me the most.

One of my friends was spending the night and earlier that day we had been talking to a couple of girls that lived down the street from each other and talked them into seeing us later that night after curfew. When the appointed time had arrived to jettison ourselves from my bed room, we had decided on using the antenna mast that was outside my rear bed room window and shimmy down it. Sounded good, sounded like a plan and so down we started with him reaching the ground before me. As I started going down the pole I had thought I heard something tapping on a window and I looked up thinking maybe it was my younger brother who may have woke up and wanting to tag along with us, but there was no stupid face grinning looking down at me when I looked up and then there was that tapping again. So I looked at the window directly in front of me only to see my father's face looking with a very disenchanted grimace and I knew the thumbs up he was giving didn't mean do it for the Gipper, rather "get your ass back up that pole and get to bed." Well going a thin galvanized pole is never as easy going down it and slowly I made it back up. Once back in the window I looked down at my friend, "I'll wait for you in the back yard." he whispered. Eventually my dad finally fell back to sleep and down the pole I shimmied again and once hitting the ground I broke out in run to where my friend was waiting for me.

Soon we were winding our way through the maze of alleys, streets void of lighting and skirting along the trees that lined them letting the shadows conceal us as we made our way across town. This too turned out to be an adventure, as we were going along my friend grabbed my arm, "Wood hold on a second." "What is it?" I asked stopping. "Look over there at that open window dude. Their doing it." he whispered, pointing off in the direction his attention was glued to. Sure enough as looked there they were in plain sight, lights on, window open with her riding him like one of those little plastic ponies at the supermarket entrance. Our eyes were glued to the scene and they seemed oblivious to the fact that they had a two person audience taking mental notes. "Damn Wood, look at those knockers on her would you." was my friends first comment. "Be quiet dummy before they hear us." I whispered. That went through one ear and out the other if it even registered at all because the next thing I heard was, "Damn! Crap Wood we need to get closer." and with that they both stopped and looked out the window, then she grabbed the pillow and placed it front of her as he in all of his glory stood up in the middle of the bed screaming and yelling expletives at us that would have made any sailor worth his salt take notes. "Great going idiot, as if hiding behind their bushes in their front yard wasn't close enough. Any closer we would have been in bed with them." I said over my shoulder running down the street.

Next stop was our destination, the mapped out end of our journey and the house was in sight. Anticipation was now the driving force as we made our way across the lawns, eventually arriving to "the window". Tap, tap, tap...waiting, heart beating like a race horse after a long race, palms sweaty and holding our breath. Tap, tap, tap...again waiting. Finally the curtains part, the shade rises and the window is raised, "If you were expecting _ _ _ _ _ _, she is in her mother's room sleeping and you have 5 minutes to clear the yard before I call the police." Busted! We left faster than a shadow in the dark.

On the way home I got to thinking, why not? The night ended the way it started, caught in the act.

Later...

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.

Only Slightly Disassociated or Slightly Associated Thoughts

A couple of things have been on my mind lately, somewhat related and then again trying to figure out a way of melding the two together has been a conundrum for me, so I will handle them as two different thoughts separate yet in many ways related.

Garnering the Spotlight

We all enjoy attention or as Andy Warhol put it "our fifteen minutes of fame" and it seems that has not really had a direct medium for the general public until the internet came into being. Whereas in the past, those dark days before the internet and the age of enlightenment it offered to those of us considered as ones of the menial class, all we had were newspapers, radio and television and in order to gain our place in the spotlight with the media of yore, you either already had to be known, discovered something that awed the world, have been published or were a serial killer, which at that time would have given that chance to stand in the spotlight of notoriety for ill or good. The internet changed all of that and gave anyone the ability to express their thoughts, their philosophy, their beliefs on morality, their stand on politics, sexual preferences, religion, parenting or just to vent and in doing so brought out the dormant narcissism in a lot of people. It was a venue deigned for them to be able to say, "Hey look at me and screw the others, I am what is important." and I shudder at times at the monster that man created when he unleashed the internet to the world.

It gave a much broader stage and a more diversified audience to those who felt like they should be listened to or what they had to say was important. It gave rumor mongers a wider visage to spread malicious gossip based purely on hearsay and personal belief of another person without really knowing if what they were espousing was factual or not, it was just too juicy and delicious to keep to themselves and the world just had to hear about it. It created a very large pond for those who like to throw rocks to see how far the ripples would reach and expand out to others.

I am not saying that seeking attention is wrong, it is basic human nature to want to be noticed and that in itself is harmless if approached in the right manner, not to do so at another's expense. When we seek attention by viciously maligning another for reasons that are really none of our business we have done nothing constructive but to destroy another and cause others to continue our attempt at undermining another's character and who if anyone has that right to do so.

It is Tom Sawyer's tree to hang from, his picket fence to walk to get Polly's attention and I would love to hear Mark Twain's take on how he would view the internet or the fodder it gave him to break out his quill to record another one of his insightful masterpieces of languid wit concerning the human condition and man's desire to be noticed. Not to mention the heyday Freud or Jung would have concerning man's struggle to either cut the umbilical cord or make love to his mother. The possibilities are endless and yet we have not really learned any lessons about what we do or say and how it effects others in our quest for attention.

The internet has created two spotlights and it shines attention on two at the same time, the seeker and the receiver, but those roles can change and the seeker one day will be seen as the receiver and will be placed in that position they have put many before them. The worm has turned so to say, the piper is now seeking payment, retribution is at hand and now that one has found themselves in a very precarious position for now they have realized that they are not without fault and secrets that were kept have managed to find themselves in the hands of another seeking attention and their target is that one who is presently in the spotlight. Like in the old west when a fresh young gunslinger would mosey into town to challenge the one who he has been told is the fastest draw known to man and he just cannot let the chance to challenge him pass by and find out how fast he really is. After all, he is now older, his edge a bit dulled, his senses a little more lax and his reflexes slowed by all the attention and praise he has been getting from his little group of followers and it is time now to replace him and take his place in that limelight.

Nothing wrong with seeking attention, just do it without unjustifiably attacking another and look out for those who come flying in under the radar or at least make sure all your ducks are in a row and you can cover your bases and don't leave your ass hanging out. Don't you just love a blog filled with euphemisms? I think I have used enough to get a little attention, don't you? Oh yeah, one more thought before I go on to the next disassociated thought, make sure someone is not painting a target on your back while you are busy painting one on someone else's back.

Baa Baa

I like to think of myself as an individual, perfectly capable of seeing things for myself and in the process of doing so be able to make my own decisions from those observations. It is how we should all be and we should not let someone else be the one telling us what to see or how to think, but sadly enough there are some either too lazy or weak or both to do that for themselves, so they entrust someone else to do that for them and that to me is a sad thought. People get so misdirected and confused when they start letting themselves be guided by someone who probably does even have the slightest clue of what is going on around them to begin with. It is the blind leading the blind and they might as well be living in a closet with the rest of the skeletons they have stashed away in the dark.

There are some that actually prey on those who cannot or those that refuse to think for themselves and this is where the above disassociated thought is associated. Those that seek attention of a attentive following surround themselves with those they think for, they decide for them what is right and what is wrong, who they should or should not talk to, who is and who isn't at fault and those they think deserve his retribution and chastising. The pied piper syndrome it is called and has roots seated back to childhood by either too many siblings and getting lost among them or over attentive parents telling them how important they are, either the lack of or too much attention. Seeing how their audience is a selective one and one that is for them easily swayed into their ideology and manipulated to think as they think and see what they see. They use them until they have no more use for them, they use them as weapons aiming them towards targets they have decided to destroy. Little Napoleons, egotistical, maniacal, narcissistic, schizophrenic and manic depressive are just a few of the symptoms they display as they gather around them those who see them as some kind of demigod, whose words are like their teachings and their bidding as a tribute them. They castigate those who see through them for what they are, irritating little fleas, piss-ants of life that seem to to be everywhere you wish they weren't.

If one cannot think for themselves, then I would think it would better not to think at all. Just sit there like a proverbial lump on a log and live out life emotionless and do not let someone else tell you what you should be thinking. Do not be led like sheep by someone who really does not care if you ever had a thought of your own or not, because under their guidance if you ever did get a clue they would ostracize you in fear that you would see them for who they truly were, just another sheep herder leading aimless sheep to slaughter.

Later...

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.

Retribution

We had been going through a long rain spell back in the summer of 1966 and the downpours we had been through had managed to flood the streets, bar ditches over flowing, yards standing several inches of water, creeks over-flowing their banks and lakes running over their spillways. I can still remember what had started out as a normal summer thunderstorm had developed into a two week plus rain spell that at times would produce 3 to 4 inches of rain and hour with sprinkling or misting in between dour pours. These were times boys lived for, the first day after the rains when the sun was out you headed for the creek to see if anything interesting had washed down from up creek, something you could use or at least claim before you father eventually stacked it out near the curb for the trash man to cart, because most likely that treasure you had found was probably washed from out in front of someone else’s home sitting by the curb for disposal after it had been lying in their garage since its last flood rescue.

So anyway, my next older brother and his fishing friend decided to go to the creek and seine for bait, minnows, crayfish, small perch and the large earthworms that are dislodged from the eroding shore, but he had lost his seine in a trade with another friend of his, so his next inspiration was to use non other’s than our dad’s seine. Now normally if you asked dad he would have said yes and upon accepting that responsibility of the, “If you loose it you have three options, 1. Find it before you come home. 2. Replace it before you get home or number 3. Don’t bother coming home if you can’t do one of the two before. Are we agreed?” Then after letting that go in one ear and out the other agreeing to anything asked of you, you took off running for the creek. He failed to talk to dad about borrowing it and agreeing to the usually ironclad stipulations that went along with it and decided to run on down to the creek as if he did not need permission. I never gave it another thought and went on about my business and at that moment was several houses down where a friend of mine was out in his front yard eating a popsicle and if rhyme stood to reason then there should be more where that came from and so I headed that way, again not giving another thought about the borrowed seine.

About three hours later and two popsicles my younger brother came down to get me, “Dad wants to talk to you and he said now, not to wait.” He had informed me and I could tell by the tone of his voice that there was a reason dad wanted to talk to me so I started retracing my steps and I could not think of a thing I had done that he would want to “talk” to me about. Without worry I headed for him, secure in the fact that I knew I had not done anything to have him upset or mad at me. Well I should have thought more realistically and let history be proof that he never calls you just to talk to you, he always has his reasons and it was never found to be in a benevolent nature, quite the opposite, oh there was someone who would give and receive and it was usually the one he was wanting to talk to and the one he was talking to was going to give up something whether they wanted to or not and be receiving his just punishment in the process. The closer I got to some, the more my feet would slow down and as I was crossing our next door neighbor’s yard my feet were virtually dragging. Each step becoming more and more labored, it felt as if you were in a chain gang and you had the heaviest iron ball.

Before long I walked through the door and my next oldest brother was standing in the kitchen drinking a glass of milk, “Dad’s out in the garage waiting for you.” In the garage and waiting, this was beginning to diminish my innocence in anything I cannot think that I had done to warrant a garage session with him. I could see him waiting, leaning against his work bench, elbow of one arm resting on the surface and in his other hand his belt and staring down with all the authority a father’s glare could muster. My heart was pounding in my chest as I placed my hand on the door knob, palms sweaty and they slipped on the knob when I had lost my grip, all my strength sapped out of me with just the thought of hearing, “This is only to teach you a lesson, don’t think I enjoy it.” The belt would meet flesh on the last word and the whole time you would be receiving he would be telling you why you were being punished and what you were going to be doing with all your free time for the next several weeks to come. These are times I would wish for miracles, anything would have done, a hurricane, a tornado, lightning storm or even mom yelling out the back door that the stove was on fire and she couldn’t put it out, anything short of the second coming would have been welcome at that point. “Open it, its not locked” came from the other side of the door. “Please” I prayed silently, “Just one small disaster to divert his attention for the next ten years or so.” Yes there was a disaster waiting to happen and it was not the answer I had prayed for that I was sure of. It was dimly lit in the garage with the only light coming through was through the four small panes of glass at the top of the garage door and it lit my dad up from the waist up like in one of those old 1950 B horror movies. His free arm was dropped to his side so I could not tell if he was holding the belt or not. My knees were weak now and trying to buckle on me as I slowly drew near him. “Know why you are here?” I heard him ask. Immediately my mind went into motion, thinking, thinking and thinking, then it hit me. “You know dad if I had done something I was aware that I had done and that you were going to use your belt on me; I don’t think I would have come straight home when I was told to. I mean, I never have before when I knew I was in trouble, I would always take my time hoping you would get tired of waiting and if I had done something I would have come in making excuses why I did or did not do it, so I am stumped.” I thought I could have set him back long enough for this to sink in and then let him chew on it a while before I tried to get him to swallow it. Staring down at me he shook his head, “None of that made sense, just like the stunt you pulled today” Again my mind started retracing my steps of that day and I still could not think of anything that would have put me in such dilemma, I was baffled. “Dad you’re going to have to tell me because I can’t think of a thing I have done wrong.” Hoping playing dumb might play on his pity and think to himself, “Poor kid, he is so stupid he doesn’t even realize when he has done something wrong.” Didn’t work, he never believed in stupidity as an excuse. “What did you do today?” staring a hole through me as he glared down at me. I went through my day with him, minute by minute detail hoping to lull him to sleep with my in depth oration recounting my personal dealings for the day. “You didn’t go down to the creek with my seine today?” he asked as if I had left it out on purpose. “Nope, no creek today.” I answered looking back at him with a sigh of relief knowing that it wasn’t me he really needed to talk to. “You sure?” he rebutted. Now one thing that we held to between me and my brothers was that we do not snitch on each other, we just get even later, but throwing them under the bus to save your ass was perfectly permissible, but only if you had plans that you did not want to be restricted from doing and my older brother had a camping trip coming up so I kept to see the underside of the bus on this one. “No dad I didn’t go to the creek today, I was down the street all day.” If he would have only looked on the front of my purple and red stained tee shirt he would have seen those were the only stains on my clothes, no mud or grass stains anywhere on me. “That is not what I was told.” He would continue and even though you knew who threw you under the bus, there was nothing you could really so about at this point, if I would have told him the truth this late in the game and given my older brother up, I would not be believed and I would have been in deeper trouble because I didn’t choke him up right away and I wasted his time. “I don’t remember going.” I whispered hanging my head down so I didn’t have to look at him. “Go find it.” was all he said.

I walked back to the house, my older brother staring out the screen door, “Where did you lose it at?” I asked him pissed that he did that to me. He looked over my shoulder as my dad exited the garage, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t lose anything.”

So I set out trying to figure out which creek he had went to, there were three in close proximity to where we lived, and then figure out where on the creek he went. I could not find it anywhere and there wasn’t anywhere I didn’t look. I got back home well after dark and as I walked through the door my older brother was sitting in the middle of the living room floor eating a bag of potato chips and drinking a coca cola, my dad was sitting in his chair drinking his glass of ice tea, “Did you find it?” he asked as our eyes met. “No sir.” I said looking over at my brother who was pretending not to be paying attention. I could have given him up then and he would have been in trouble for losing it, for blaming me and for me getting his punishment, but I didn’t give him up, he was mine now and my turn would come. “Go to bed then.” were my instructions. Seeing how I had missed dinner I walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t say get something to eat and then go to bed, I said go to bed.” I heard the clarification of his instructions, so I went to bed to “think” about what I had done and what fate awaited me.

I thought alright, I thought about what I could do to get even with my older brother, what could I do to make things even? It didn’t take me long to figure it out, there was a buzz outside my window, the buzz of a wasp and an epiphany hit me. It was almost a year and a half ago when he had his first serious encounter with wasps, yellow jackets, nasty little things that let you know they were not afraid of anything. It was the morning of his birthday and he had decided to retrieve a wasp’s nest from the rubber tree on the side of the house, the same rubber tree that he had been told to stay out of because of the yellow jacket nest my dad was going to take care of later. Off he went up the tree with a stick he had tied a piece of cloth to and soaked it in gasoline, he had heard the fumes would dupe them and keeps them from stinging him. Now I don’t know who he had got this little tidbit of information from, but I had a feeling it was not from researching that he was informed of this “protection” that would keep him safe. There he was, high up in the rubber tree waving his stick with the gasoline soaked rag tied to the end. It did get them away from the nest alright, just like he was told it would, but it did not give him the protection he was told about. It was like one swarming mass moving from one place to another in a blink. Before I knew it there he was, falling through the branches waving the idiot stick like he was trying to slay a dragon. Thump, bump, crack and a host of other sounds wafted through the air along with a few expletives of his own. He screamed louder than my sister that time a scorpion came out the over flow drain on the tub while she was showering and twice as high a pitch as she had. It was music to me; I mean we have always been told that if we do something we had been warned not to do, then you had no one to blame but yourself. “Get momma! Get momma!” he was yelling as he rolled on the ground. I walked over to the screen front door and yelled through it, “Hey mom come quick.” She ran out the door hearing the screams of my older brother rolling around on the ground under the rubber tree. “Ronald Edward, go get me the hose now!” she barked, so I went and got her the hose and handed it to her, she held it towards my brother as if waiting for something to happen, “You could turn it on too.” I mean she said nothing about turning it on, all she said was get her the hose and I did that, so back I went to turn the faucet on and then ran back as fast as I could as she doused him with water scattering the wasps, he looked pretty sad if I say so myself and was starting to swell pretty fast. Mom got him into the house and stripped him to see how bad he was, there wasn’t a spot on him and I mean not a spot they had not stung him. She called the doctor; these were the days when doctors still made house calls on an emergency basis and before long he arrived and started to tend to my brother. Over 240 places he was stung, the doctor instructed my mother to mix vinegar and baking soda together in a paste and apply this poultice to each sting, as it dried it would pull the poison out and help it fester to remove any stingers left behind. All this happening on his birthday with a big party planned for that afternoon. The doctor even gave him something, a shot in the butt to help the healing and if there was one thing about our family doctor then, he had a shot to heal everything and he did not mind administering them one bit.

Later that afternoon my dad arrived home to be at the party, he was the hot dog cook and he would be needed to light the charcoal and cook the hot dogs. Mom failed to call him before he got home to tell him about what had happened to my older brother, so she informed him then, “So I think we should call everyone and tell them it has been canceled.” My dad shook his head; I never liked it when he shook his head at me because I knew it meant that there were consequences to pay. He went into the bed room and looked down at my brother, all swollen, in pain, tears rolling out of his eyes and fear building up. “Mom tells me you were climbing the rubber tree you were told to stay out of.” He looked up at my dad, tears pouring out of his eyes and barely able to talk, “I was just doing it for you.” That never worked with dad either, I knew that from experience and so should this Bozo, but he tried to play it anyway. “Mom thinks we should call off your party and have it another time.” Looking down at my brother and brushing the hair out of his eyes, “But I told her no, not to call it off and go ahead and have the party anyway. You can lay here in bed and listen to it and think about missing it because you couldn’t do as you were told.” I had to turn and smile, my sibling nemesis was in trouble and I did not have to lift a finger to instigate anything. I reminded him several times during the course of the party that he was missing a lot of fun. I had my plan now well formulated as I thought back almost a year and a half ago.

I let several days go by as I served my punishment, doing chores that normally were not mine added to the ones I was required to do and all along he never said anything to me about me taking his punishment, I informed my dad I had almost forgotten about a summer science project we were assigned before school let out. “What are you going to need?” was all he wanted to know, never asked what it was about. “Six one gallon jars with screw on lids is all, I can get the rest from the garage.” Now my younger brother was curious and as he wondered what I would be needing with six one gallon jars with screw on lids he asked, “What is the project?” “Going to measure the life cycles of wasps.” I answered slowly turning my head to smile at my older brother. “Just be careful, you saw what happened to your older brother.” was dad’s only warning.

The next evening dad gave me the jars I had asked for and over the next several days I sought out wasps flying alone and with a large aquarium fish net I started capturing wasps for my summer science project. I collected red wasps, yellow jackets, paper wasps, fruit wasps and anything else that looked like if it stung you it would definitely leave its mark on you. Soon I had them in my jars and I placed them on the dresser in a long row with a clipboard next to them. Every day I would act as if I was taking notes as I went on with my science project charade. Every night I would lie in bed talking a little to my old brother, “So what did the doctor say about your allergies to wasp stings? What did he call it if you got stung again, said something about going into shock, throat swelling, choking? What was that he called it?” Working on him little by little, he knew why I was doing this and he knew he owed me. “Anaphylactic shock stupid.” he snapped back. “No stupid was throwing me under the bus telling dad that I lost his seine. Sure would be a bitch for you if those wasps got out of the jars, wouldn’t it?” then rolling over to go to sleep. I let him stew for over a week and watched him begging dad to have me do something with the wasps in the bedroom. “Just make sure he keeps the tops on tightly.” was his answer. Each night I would repeat basically the same thing to him and then watch him out of the corner of my eye as he stared at the one gallon jars all lined up on the dresser.

One evening while he was taking his bath I took a little rubbing alcohol and soaked several cotton balls with it and dropped them in the yellow jacket’s jar and then tapped the holes over on the lid. I waited until I saw them all drop to the bottom and then with tweezers I took them out one by one and using an exacto knife I relieved them of their stingers and then cut the small ligament under each wing so they could not fly. I placed them back in the jar less the alcohol soaked cotton balls and let them revive. Once my older brother was in bed I sat up in mine and started staring at the jar with the yellow jackets in them as if I spotted something wrong, getting out of bed I walked over to the jar and started tapping on it, “Leave them alone, you’re pissing them off.” my older brother said nervously. “Stop whining, something isn’t right, stop acting like a baby, you would think I let them out.” I said smiling at him as I started taking the lid off the jar. “See?” I said as I spun around pretending to trip over his shoes lying in the floor and the jar flung out in front of me the inhabitants landing on him. He couldn’t utter a word, he was so scared he could not scream, he couldn’t even brush them off, he was frozen with fear and I smiled at him. “Damn, that is a bitch.” is all I said. Finally after turning blue from not being able to catch his breath, it caught and he screamed and screamed until mom and dad both came running in the room and they were just in time to see me saving my older brother from those nasty yellow jackets as I picked them off of him and placed them back in the jar. As I took one from his pillow I whispered, “Don’t choke me up on this or I will tell dad about the seine and who lost it.” He knew the longer dad waited for the truth the one who would pay for it was going to hurt in more ways than one. “I tripped over his shoes he left in the middle of the floor.” I said as I was screwing the lid back on the jar. “If you kept your crap off the floor and where it belonged this wouldn’t have happened. Both of you get to bed now and I don’t want to hear anything out of either of you.” I lay there in the dark and then turned looking across the room at my older brother, “You going to ask mom to change your sheets? I thought that grass snake made you pee.”

The next morning he kept staring at me with that same hateful look I had grown used to seeing, I smiled back and said, “Pee me a river stupid.”

Later…

Some might think this is cruel, but when you have 4 brothers and being next to the youngest, survival was at any cost. No I do not regret what I did.

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Now Life is a Dance

Yeah I had to post another one and the only reason for this one is that a song a neighbor played all evening to enjoyment of seeing that everyone heard it played repetitively throughout his repertoire that particular day, but never the less I thought about how closely it related to another blog and so I put them all together and it seems that there are as many descriptions for life and how we each see and I am sure that the list will increase as each minutes tic away writing about it. So without further adieu and not much anticipation on your part I have now learned that life is also a dance. The line in the chorus was what made me realise that maybe life may be closer to being an anagram that the ride we all view it as all basically meant the same thing, just using a different word to describe it and then those words strung together again are even a more discriptive anagram of each own's meaning and spelling and all meaning the same thing.

I am sure you can each see why I have come to this conclusion. So let's see what we have here, we have life is like a dance or a roller coaster or maybe it is closer to a box of chocolates and you may never find that unless you take a bite into life, you may never "savour" the taste of life or then it could be that it is a roller coaster because it is full of highs, pitfalls and those pesky curves life so aimlessly throw at us with such precision our paranoia encreases until one day the ride stops and redirects our attention to other possibilities that life could be described as and it coud be more like a hot air balloon ride. Steadily ascending going to great heights and if done properly slowly descending in a controlled manor and learning to live with those little those pesky little crosswinds that seem always to at our back that realize that maybe that it could be just like a dance, but that would mean that you would have to view it the same way and how often has that ever really happened that two individuals would ever see the same exact thing each other really saw in something. If I were a betting man I would decline the bet, because the odds of that ever happening were stacked against the one who thought that the thought was a possibility.

Now this is where it gets complicated because dance is a pretty descriptive art form and you have many forms of dance. Yes life could be viewed as a dance, after all there are times you just seem to glide across life's plains doing a waltz, which even that art form has its on sub forms or variations in which you glide and they too have their merits. Within each of the waltz's sub forms, like the Tennessee Waltz or even the waltz that takes you across Texas is more of a regional for of the same dance, just slightly altered for a different audience. And there you are waltzing with one hand on her waist, the delicate glove covered hand giving her soft small hand a cradle. And effortlessly gliding along life's dance floor.

Maybe the Argentine Tango with its serpentine movements and heat it generates as your passion builds and two fiery souls are synchronous with each step, with each gyration of the dance there evolves to an even more seductive mistress that hints at ecstasy awaits only finds that he forgot his protection, (I was going to use Body Condom, I have been wanting to find something to write about in order to use it...) but when I reflectively looked back it really didn't sound right using as an adjective or pronoun are a noun now that I think about it, (notice how even here, used differently to describe the same thing like the word describe itself) your final disappointment related to a body condom, but rather as the idea they forgot their protection, because then that itself is another anagram within an anagram. Protection could be used to describe a whole host of things, not prepared, unable to accept, never realized, never thought about it, didn't give it a second thought, see this could go on for quite some time, so I will just take it for granted that you are following this and move on. Deciding on the proper use and the encompassing definition in the ability to describe this event, protection and forgetting it basically means we are never really protected from anything determined to get at us. But then again, it could be more like the twist, the funky monkey, the groove, the jerk, all different but none the less a dance. God forbid that Disco ever gets to rise from its grave. A dance is a dance is a dance, just slight variations in some, and the others as different salt is from sugar, but we use them as a dance.

Intimacy in the dance, slowly swaying, slight touch of others in your life as your various partners in life or people who just cut-in. The closeness that you are not alone, the secureness you feel in the embrace as you spin and twirl, a slight touch to let you know they are there too.

But even our tastes in dance change and we find that closeness we once enjoyed disappate slowly and feel you are dancing apart, seemingly indifferent to the other's emotional state and our dance morphs into something less intimate but still close enough if you felt you were drifting too far,it was still insight and you still remembered the steps.

So until you find yourself so disassociated that you might as well be dancing alone and more like a pinball that ricochets from event to event in their lives. Then the story takes a whole other turn if we go the pinball route, after all I do want you to read this post through and not start yawning as your head bobs up in down like it is a barbiturate in the visual sense of the meaning of the post, so we will stay away from the arcade games and continue the dance. So after only a slight diversion we are back to the dance but you realize that the steps to the waltz had been forgotten and only the Watusi, the pony and swim were the only steps you knew now and they were totally void of any intimacy and the only pleasant thing about them, as you gyrated your way around the dance floor your partners were constantly changing. Now some could see that as a plus, a benefit, a windfall, (see how all three words just described the same thing?) and others would see it as being to roguish, crude, animalistic, barbarian, egotistacal, (again using words that could describe the same thing) as you danced through life. And then again I solidify my statement that people are just not going to see it quite the same as the other. But yet we dance because that is how we see life with its numerous styles, movements and beats, we just keep looking for that step that allows you to dance at your own beat through life.

Yes maybe a dance with all its indifferences it is all basically the same, our movement through life and how we see it or how hungry we are with those box of chocolates or how excited we feel as we ride the coaster, each having its own place and without arguement each used to describe one's life with just as a vivid palet as the other, they all satisfy the need for intimacy, objectiveness, independence, indifference and just as fuild or rigid as the steps dictate, we dance through it, what we dance is the choice of the dancer, let's see how many follow exactly the step your are doing. That would almost be like seeing the same thing at the same moment by two completely and unique only to themselves people acually mergining and becoming as one in unison! It would be like, well you know Chemistry, a universal event and when hasn't mans intervention and his constantly changing things so it adapted to him and he danced a new dance, which is closer to possibility than that anyone ever sees things the same. It is in our nature to live life as we see fit and adapting when need or rather changing your step in order to avoid or maybe be slightly out of step. Did you ever think that it could happen? The closest we dance to anyone is close enough to feel that intimacy, yet far enough to keep our toes from being stepped on.

Well there is always that predictability of the yoyo concept, now whose life doesn't have its ups and downs?

Later...


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Chucking it All

Ever feel like chucking it all? Like if the effort is not really worth the outcome and you wondered why you even tried at all? I am sure we all get that way at times and we just feel like walking away from it all. So we view it from a distance and try to see it in a different perspective, from an angle more appeasing and then try to understand in a more constructive role and as a third party instead of the one involved in it or feeling as if you were. But there are times that no matter how you look at it, it does not change, it remains the same and you have that gut instinct that what you feel is right, so you just throw your hands up and walk away from it, because you know that no matter what you do or say it is not going to change one iota. You have to leave it where it lies and let time work it out. If there is a chance for change, it will happen and if not then why worry about it?

Life is full of these situations, some see them as challenges while others seem them as stumbling blocks. Ones that see the challenge in it will take it head on and try to figure out why and then try to resolve it, but their resolution is usually to the effect that they can understand it and accept it in their way or to their benefit and not as it was composed to be. Those that see it as a stumbling block will try to avoid it altogether, try and find a way around so as not to be affected by it, but this is like a mole in their hole trying to avoid a flood coming in their direction, inevitably they are going to find themselves struggling with it only to eventually be pulled down.

So as life goes, so come conflicts, confusion and chaos, but it is within these things that confront us that we can find order and a peace of being as we learn to understand and accept. The only constant in life is change and it is how we learn to adapt to change that will determine our survival and survival depends on how we accept and understand those changes or cycles we go through.

When in a river it is much easier to swim with the flow than to be constantly swimming against it. I am not saying that we should always conform to what others feel is right, there are times when we need to try and swim against the flow of the status quo, because as an individual you can affect the change, even rivers have been known to change their course over time and change can start with one thought.

Is it wise to always confront conflict? It really depends on your beliefs, I was taught to"pick your battles" and to go prepared for both victory and defeat. If we find ourselves constantly confronting conflict, always finding something wrong, then in the process we may miss what is good and never realise it may have been wiser to have offered a bit more understanding and only try and change those things which over shadowed the good in it. There has never been a bad idea only bad planning. Not saying you should ride a skate board in rush hour traffic, just saying we need to learn at times when the smarter thing to do is yield. Time can change it, change is inevitable and sooner or later as it is said, your time will come.

So maybe chucking it for a while, shelving it temporarily until the time is right and the enviroment is condusive, revisit it, look at it again and see if it is worth the effort to spend any time on it to try and change it.

Later...

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Life as a YoYo

Some say life is like a roller coaster, with all the thrills it entails, sudden drops that plummet so quickly you lose your breath and turns so sharp that you feel you are going to be ejected from your seat. Thrills, spills, laughter and the fear associated with the unexpected related to life and what we experience in it. Then there is Forrest Gump, whose mama taught him that life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what's inside until you bite into it, so many ways that one can express life and all that happens between birth and death and we each see it a bit differently when we look at it and the life that we lead.

As for me, my life seems more like a yoyo, predictable to an extent. Stationary, going up and down, like pendulem going back and forth keeping rhythm with the passing of time only mine is going up and down without the unexpected thrills of not knowing what is next, a sudden drop from a great height or what is around the next curve. At my apex I have a broad view of all that is around me and very little is hid from my sight, then at my lowest point all I can see is what is in front of me. Up and down it seems my life has been going for so long now. No surprises, nothing that excites me as it used to and nothing to look forward to as I once before did.

Some would say I was in nothing more than a rut, life repeating itself day after day, but a rut is linear, a depression in the ground and the more traveled the deeper it gets until you lose all periphery sight and all you have is what you see before you and what you left behind, but at least a rut isn't stationary, you are heading is some direction. But a yoyo goes nowhere in any real since of the meaning and what is sadder that being a yo yo I do not even control the ups and downs I experience, someone else masters the string to which the yoyo is anchored to and it is only by their their will that determines the velocity of the ascent or decent.

Sometimes I wish that string would break and send me off across life's plains in some erratic manner, uncontrolled, exciting, not knowing what is over the next rise or around the next bend instead of this constant up and down where all I see is what I have seen so many times before. Could it be just a factor of my age or that complacency has relegated me to this point in life.

Should I complain about this? Am I wearing my heart on my sleeve? I have been on that roller coaster of life before and I have experienced the thrills of the unexpected and the tickle in my stomach as I feel as if I am floating when velocity seems void as from being dropped from a great height and then suspended. I had that something in my life to look forward to and all the surprises it held in store for me and I looked forward to each and every turn, hill, thrill each day, but it seems I stepped off the roller coaster and can't find my way back again, even thought I have looked countless times before.

Up and I down I have seemed to go and no surprises I have encountered, no scenery that I have not seen before. All is quiet, no screams, gasps or laughing as because the unexpected has been taken out of the equation and replaced with the reassuring thought that I will either be going up or down, stationary and going no place.

Anyone up for a ride on a roller coaster?

Distant Isles

On the shores of distant isles

Where the gentle trade wind blows

My thoughts drift and settle for a while

Across my dreams like a river she flows

Beneath the stars that flood the skies

I lay my body down upon the sand

To her like the wind my spirit flies

To feel the soft caress of her hand

Listening to the waves kiss the shore

I close my eyes and her I see

To be with her I go like nights before

But only in my dreams it's meant to be

I feel the breeze upon my face

As soft as her whisper on my ear

It envelopes me like her embrace

Then I feel the fall of my tears

I walk these shores late at night

Searching for the one who walked away

She has run and hides from my sight

She has gone and refused to stay

Upon these shores of distant isles

These sands that I now walk alone

I think of a love that was defiled

I think of a love that now is gone

Underneath the moon's soft glow

Only one shadow touches the sand

Where two danced once long agao

This place where I held her hand

This place I go it tortures me

Yet this is where I find my peace

This place where she used to be

This dream that is my only release

Upon the shores of distant isles

Where the gentle trade wind blows

My thoughts drift and settle a while

Across my dreams like a river she flows

Later...

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A Wonderful Time Has Ended

Today I read the final post of someone who I always enjoyed reading. It was not about the news, latest movie or of how the earth is being destroyed or any personal agenda or vendetta. It was an escape, a chance to have a peek into the life and everyday happenings of someone who is very adept in chiseling with words a beautiful Stella of her life. She will be missed and maybe our lives will be a little emptier without being able to follow her daily exploits and adventures of her life.

When I first met her online I knew then there was something very special about her. She had a way of not just understanding a person, but being able to see through what one was saying and unveiling exactly what needed to be seen. She has a gift to see beyond what is being presented and to peel back the layers until she can get to the heart of what was really troubling someone and revealing those emotions. Never demeaning of another, but sympathetic to their needs and could show an understanding that few could.

She is the kind of person who could give of herself without thought of herself and never expecting anything in return. She gives of herself unselfishly in so many was and always was willing to go beyond what was expected, not out of personal gain or notoriety for what she had done, but rather she saw that there was more she could do to help and unselfishly gave.

So I wish her good fortune on the new path in which she has chosen for herself now and I know without a doubt in whatever her endeavors now lie, she will be successful and recognized for the wonderful person she is.

She will be missed.

Stories posted here are the exclusive property of the Smiling Pig. No other use or reproduction of the content contained here is permissible without written prior consent.