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Thread: A few words

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Mar 2014
    Location
    Western WA state
    Posts
    1,260

    Default A few words

    Hey all.

    Allow me to share some stories from my childhood:

    We grew up in the middle of nowhere, indeed the house in which I currently reside is only about a mile and a half from the one I grew up in.

    When I was probably five or six we got new neighbors, a family I`ll refer to as the "Logs".

    They were stupid, fat, loud. Exactly what you`d expect. The epitome of Trailer Trash. And chief among them and Head of the house was Scott.

    What wasn`t balding on his head was long and greasy, crumbs and gobbets of sauces lingered amongst his patches of wiry facial hair, presumably for future consumption.

    My mom used to go visit his wife, they were good friends. And because I was just a duckling, I followed my mom along most of the time. And while they visited I`d talk with Scott, just how I`d expect most kids to. But on a few occasions he`d say "Hold on a sec, I`ll be back" and motioned for me to take a seat on their brown couch (guessing it was white when they got it). I sat and played witness to a veritable horror show, something that could outdo any HR Giger, John Carpenter or Steven King-esque nightmare.

    At age 6 I sat and watched a man who weighed three quarters of a ton (without exaggeration) spend a solid 15 minutes trying to climb out of his chair. Fifteen. Minutes. A quarter hour. To stand up. It took him another Ten to hobble to the bathroom, and at least an hour to reemerge.

    I sat aghast at the scene displayed before me, I heard the floorboards creak and groan as he settled back down into his chair. Finally he looked over at me and with an outstretched basketball-wide arm held a cheeto in Vienna Sausage fingers.

    "Want one?"


    Quite some time later, in my teenage years he had another heart attack, I would wager his sixth or seventh. I wasn`t surprised, I was in that turbulent stage of teenagerdom, I didn`t care about anything, least of all him. I`d decided years ago I`d never be like him. Not once. Not ever. But I sat and listened to the story because I may have been emotionally distant and even a bit robotic, I was still polite.

    Apparently after that heart attack the Paramedics arrived and found they couldn`t fit him through the door. Eventually it was decided to cut a hole in the side of the house to fit Scott into the ambulance. Unfortunately, he had grown even greater in size by that time and the ambulance wasn`t rated for a load like that, much less were the doors large enough to accommodate him. A call was made for the double wide ambulance from the next town over. When all was said and done, he`d finally been loaded in the vehicle, about 3 hours had passed after that coronary event.


    It`s my personal opinion that everybody in the world has a few experiences, maybe 3 to 5 before young adulthood that I call "Grow up Moments". I won`t lie, I don`t have much respect for Scott, after all these years I learned that his wife, while chatting with my mom back then used to joke and describe her plans to kill him and lose their children. I heard that the eldest of their three daughters hangs around in little Tijuana these days, their middle kid is a kleptomaniac and the youngest has a nasty habit of pitting people against one another and a list of petty crimes at age 16 or so by now. Scott and the Log clan contributed massively to a handful of my "Grow up Moments".

    Now that begs the question:

    "Want one?"
    Last edited by Fjordforder; 08-26-2018 at 09:14 PM.
    "they have no basis of comparison and have trouble understanding how an education in violence is presented and have to struggle through the internalization of the topic."
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