Sharp Dead Toe Nails posted 5/9/2008 4:28:41 PM | 19 kudos what's this?     report abuse

LaughTillYaPuke

In a large family that has already seen hundreds of birthdays, you tend to get screwed when yours comes around. Even as a little thing I soon learned that you had to be very specific when asking for what you wanted.

For my 4th birthday, I wanted.....

A doctor/nurses kit.

Books.

A rabbits foot

A pretty blouse with flowers on it.

Barrettes that I didn't have to share with Becky.

A black baby doll.

An orange bra.

A bubble gum machine.

A piano.

A goat.

A chocolate cake with gum drops on it.

I was 4 years old and knew damn well what I wanted. But if you notice....I was a reasonable child. I didn't ask for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I didn't ask for a baby brother. I was a realist, and I knew what was doable and what was not.

And to this day I can honestly say it was the best damn birthday ever. I scored the piano, the chocolate cake with gum drops, the doctor/nurses kit, the pretty blouse and a book or two. The piano was a little baby grand. About 6 inches off the floor and about 12 inches long. You could have fit it into a suitcase in a pinch. And to this day I WANT IT BACK. I have no idea where it went and can only assume that daddy reached the pinnacle of madness one day and burned the fvcking thing when I fell asleep.

And as only a 4 year old can do, I remember being surrounded by all that loot and looking around for my bubble gum machine and bra. I had thought that they would have been two of the easier items to procure, and was a bit disappointed that my brothers had failed me. But Steve DID tell me that he had looked high and low for an orange bra...and well, they just didn't make them. But he DID manage to find me the most beautiful, softest white rabbit’s foot you had ever seen. Score. I assumed the goat was upstairs waiting for me.

The piano helped me fulfill my destiny to spend the rest of my life with Schroeder. (of “Peanuts” fame) And as I banged away on that piano, creating sounds that made birds drop dead off the wires; I would envision him across from me playing in harmony. It began my long journey attracted to men that were talented, profound, more than slightly withdrawn and totally unattainable. I would forever be attracted to men's profiles. The man made me want to dance.

And as I played my sonata’s, I slowly partook of the candy pills meticulously placed inside my doctors/nurses kit. Is it any wonder the majority of my generation would go on to have substance abuse problems? (and look for jobs in the medical field.) And I learned that if I left my Kool-Aid cup on the top of my piano, daddy would drop his spare change in. I vowed to be a street person when I grew up.

But it was the rabbits foot I would taunt Becky with for 2 weeks. And I made sure that she was never alone in the same room with it. She had boxes of shit that I had never been allowed to touch….this one was going to be mine.

After about two weeks she had had enough of my snooty, selfish attitude. She hid behind the kitchen door laying in wait with a freshly blown up hippity hop. How long she stood there waiting is unknown. But I think it’s safe to assume that she is one of those women that can hold things in and let them fester for years. She’s tenacious if nothing else.

Her timing was impeccable and she beaned me so hard in the back of the head that not only did I go flying and crack my chin open, but the hippity rebounded and knocked her front tooth out. But in all that madness it was the rabbits foot my eyes never left. I watched it skitter and bounce across that kitchen floor and eventually come to rest against the radiator. But it was the sound that made the little hairs on my arms stand on end. The subtle clicking that freaked out my little pre-school soul.

I picked myself up off that floor oblivious to Becky’s screams that she couldn’t find her tooth, ignored my own blood and slowly walked over to my prize that had suddenly become a foreign object that I was afraid of. I picked it up by its little key chain attachment and tapped it on the kitchen table. What WAS that clicking sound? I moved the now dingy fur back and saw…nails. There were toes in there. Real toes. Bunny toes. Claw like nails. Someone had wacked a bunny leg off, clipped a chain to it and then sneakily washed the blood off so that no one would be the wiser.

I cried. I shook. My candy pills did nothing to help. I was inconsolable. How the hell could this be good luck? When something died did you inherit whatever luck they hadn’t used? Whatever the truth was, I didn’t want it. Was that bunny still alive hobbling around without a foot? Or did they just lop all FOUR of them off and then say a few prayers? OhGodOhGodOhGod I had slept with toenails, dead ones, touching my lips. I could practically hear the bunny crying.

First Steve would walk the floor with me, and then finally, the big guns came in. Dad. But you have to wonder why it was Steve that tried to console me and not my forever hero dad. Where was he and why didn’t he come stomping in like a giant to deal with the sick bastards who had amputated a perfectly good limb off a bunny?

He was on the stairs. Laughing. In fact, family legend has it that it took him 45 minutes to get up 11 steps. Apparently every time he got himself together enough to console his broken hearted daughter, he would end up spinelessly sliding down the stairs, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. That while I was having my innocence removed and trampled forever, the rest of the clan was drinking Coke and wolfing down Jiffy Pop and trying not to wet their pants with glee over my confusion.

And to make my sorrow worth even less…..they had grounded Becky to her bedroom, WHICH happened to be the same room as MINE. And while Steve paced the 4 steps one way to the window and 4 steps back trying to console me, Becky would be waving her tooth in the air taunting me with the tooth fairy. Which had FEET by the way. “What did I think it was”, she asked? “A TAIL? It’s a rabbit’s F…O…O…T.” And I would wail louder and dad would hear our exchange and slide farther down the stairs. And only Steve would love me enough to cram his face into my neck so as to not burst out laughing hihimself.

And from that day on my naïveté was legend. Whether we call it stupidity or my insistence at only seeing the beautiful things. I admit it. I am a sucker. I remember going to a pig roast when I was about 14 and just about had a stroke when I saw a pig (eyeballs and all) slowly being turned to a crisp over a fire. And no, I couldn't eat a bite of it. There are just some things that are so horrific my mind just can't seem to wrap it'self around the reality of things. But, I have learned to laugh along with everyone else when once again, I come face to face with sharp dead toe nails.

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Blogs by LaughTillYaPuke: The Best Damn Wayside EVER Coming into My Own Daddy's Girl Enough Already Trees Around My Heart The Mother Tree Colors The Most Beautiful Place on Earth Mother Barn In The Beginning TESTIFY!!! She's a Real Mother Alright..... Sharp Dead Toe Nails Melee Come to Life The Game....Part III The Game....Part II The Game....Part I Portrait........Portrayal Cold Puke in Blog Land