Spit In the Eye of the Devil posted 5/15/2008 4:20:45 PM | 14 kudos what's this?     report abuse

LaughTillYaPuke

Uncle Bill. He can sit and chat with the adults for extended periods, but you get the definite feeling he would rather be someplace else. Youth. It comes out of every pore of his skin. And if he is too old to create some chaos and mayhem, he can certainly give the younger generation an idea or two on how to accomplish this never ending goal. Timing is everything. And he's got it in aces. It's a wonder he ever got caught by the Fed's

He could show up at Christmas without one package in his hands. But have presents for everyone in the middle of July. And you never knew exactly when or how he would show up. Sometimes he would pull out a chair and slap himself down and stun everyone at the table. A real conversation stopper. And we kids would listen up....."Hey Bill, when did you get out?" some adult would ask. Who the hell cared? He was here now and that was all that mattered to me.

I remember one visit where he pulled me aside in the den. Big doings as I greatly admired the man, yet he never had really noticed me before. "I've got something special for you Mimi. Traded it for a couple of cartons of smokes and a few favors. Happy Birthday baby." He's about 3 months late for my birthday, but who's counting? AND it looks like he's got something pretty hot for me. The way he slid it out of his coat suggests that this is to be our little secret. I'm good with that. I may be young, but I get that there are just some times you shouldn't draw attention to yourself. I grew out of my bells years ago. Slow and sneaky it is then.

Long thin black case. Took me a bit to figure out how to open it up. It's all good. It only adds to the mystery. It's full of long thin metal rods of varying lengths and widths. Some straight tipped. Some with little curves and whorls at the ends. They feel wonderful in my hands, but I have no clue what they are for. I am tempted to poke a sibling with one of these babies. It would hurt like a mad bastard, I'm sure of it. Common sense wins on this one. Temptation or not, I'm not about to get these lethal weapons taken away until I am sure of what they are fully capable of.

We furtively meet up after dinner. He asks me if I have figured out what they are for. His lips never move and he never actually makes eye contact. "It's a lock picking kit" he whispers and walks away.

"No SHIT!", I whisper in awe. This changes things. Hell, this changes everything. The man is a practiced criminal. He must have seen something redeeming in me. Some hope for my sneaky future.

It took me about 2 years to fully master all that kit had to offer me. Slowly working my way from the bathroom lock to the old bedroom locks. The kind you needed a cast iron key for. But the day I finally got the dead bolt on the back door to click over, I knew I was ready for the big time. My kit now contained all of the original rods and a few of my own creation. Paper clips in a plethora of sizes. Old fashioned bobby pins and a dental pick I had hooched at my last cleaning. The world was my oyster. And I could pry that baby open with practiced fingers never leaving a scratch.

Now it's not that my parents didn't know what I was doing. (they didn't) They had just decided that I was automatically up to no good. I once heard "that child would spit in the eye of the devil" and I knew they were talking about me.

For the next two years, I was to pick the lock on my own front door to get in. Slick, quick, and professional if I do say so myself. Until a nosy neighbor decided to watch me from across the street. And of course, they tipped off dad. I came home the next day after school, picked my way in, and when the door swung open, there was dad sitting on a chair waiting for me with one hand held out. I set the kit in his hand. (No use fighting over it at this point. The more I freak out, the more information he is going to want) The use of the chair became apparent as he appeared to want me to bend over his lap for one of my top ten, all time best spankings.

I waited until his next trip and went looking for it. The garage I guessed. I could do this with one barrette. Dark, warm and smelling faintly of saw dust and oil. I loved it in here. Dad's domain. I do have a brief moment of guilt. I love and respect this man greatly.

I finally spot it. Carefully shuffling reveals it hidden behind some old VW owners manuals. I turn around and spin that wonderful handle on his vise grip on the way out. Smooth and weirdly warm. My way of tipping my hat to one of the few men I utterly respected.

I took that kit with me when I moved away from home a few years later. Always broke and always hungry. It kept me alive for 3 years. Sneaking down to the cafeteria in the basement of the dorm. Flashlight braced between my knees, I would steal a 4 X 2 foot pan of brownies. And those economy size jars of peanut butter lasted me for months, until the oil would rise to the top and I couldn't gag it down anymore.

But the day finally came where I went to use my pick kit for survival and it was gone. Stolen by some wiener who had no idea what they had gotten there grubby hands on. Appropriate in a criminal karma kind of way. And the timing was pretty darn perfect. I was 3 months from graduation. Who knows where that pick kit would have taken me if someone else hadn't taken it. You never notice life's defining moments when you are in them.

My skills are only used for the good of man kind now. I have saved numerous children from locked bathrooms and perhaps even sucking down some drano. But sometimes a feeling of unreality washes over me. I look in the mirror and see a woman I don't know. Off to work and run the car in for an oil change. Who IS that responsible woman?

And I take a few moments to remember the sly and devious girl that hides within. I like that girl. She was fearless. And if I look closely, I can still see her. She is just better at hiding what she is really made out of. And I look forward to the day, when a man comes along and is willing to spend the time to gently, and patiently pick the lock to her heart. Who knows what wonders he will find inside.

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Blogs by LaughTillYaPuke: Body in the Road Always the Hard Thing to Do Blood, Sweat and Tears Coming to an End Elusive Thief House of Cards Gypsy Queen The Gum Tree The Age of Reason Felonies and other Petty Crimes What are You Looking for Rattling the Bones Spit In the Eye of the Devil 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.....