Skip to main content

One Good Trick Deserves Another

I have no eyebrows. But it is not my fault.
Well, I should be correct and say that I have half, more or less, of one eyebrow.
The smaller half.
My eyelashes are still lovely though. And I do enjoy their long thickness.

I have become more comfortable through the years with missing eyebrows since, after all, it’s the heart of a person that matters. And sometimes it’s fun too, to put on a sock cap and play tricks on people.
Tell them I am going through Chemo. I watch their eyes get big and wide.
“"REALLY?"” they say.
“"Yah, but not really though,"” I say as I shake my head up and down.
Then they get mad and smack me, but it’s still grand fun.
It stopped being fun as soon as I actually had to go through Chemo.
I did not think I was quite as cute then. Though it still seemed only fair to play a trick since it was a dirty trick that generally has them missing in the first place.

I have this thought see, that people in manufacturing, bored as they might be, like to do things. Little tricks they play on people that buy their stuff.
And then they sit around and laugh and tell jokes. Jokes about what might happen to the people buying them.
People like me.

I think the favorite of these tricks involves the little plus and minus signs on my lighters.
The ones that control the big and the little of the flame.
I say this because any time I buy a fresh one, it always seems to start on the plus.
The big flame.

And so I hold it up to my cigarette. And I flip the button. And I burn my eyebrows off.

Frank just rolls his eyes at me. He says, “"You oughta learn.”"

But I figure he should also learn. Learn to be a little more sympathetic.
I'm always plotting ways to get him good.
This one time after lighting a cigarette, I just started screaming like it was my whole eyeball this time to get burned off. I had a little packet of ketchup I squeezed out between my fingers. I thought it was pretty impressive,and honestly, I think he almost fell for it.
Until the stinging set in.
And then I had to start screaming about ketchup in my eye.

You know what they say about one good trick...

Comments

AJ in Nashville said…
HA! That's funny.
'Cept the chemo part. I'm sorry to hear about that. Hope it came (or is coming out) well for you there...

Good stories...

:)
cbeck said…
Thanks. And I'm doing just fine. ;)
Check said…
ha ha... we all need a good laugh, sometimes creativity is essential in that quest as well. :)

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...

What If I Need Them Again Someday

"I am leaving," she said, but he got to them first. "Give me my keys," she smiled sweetly at him. Damn. She still wanted to smile at him. He laughed and smiled right back. "Not a chance." "I don't want to be here," she replied. She meant it. "Give me my keys." "But I already took back everything I gave you. You're shit out of luck." He laughed, right in her face. She had agreed he could have it all back if he wanted, afterall, she knew. And it had not bothered her. Even though she would really miss the Guns n' Roses album. It had not bothered her too much. To give back the things he had gave her. She had not even thought of her car. Or the fact that he owned half of it. So while he laughed, she shook her head and when he was done, she said, "It does not matter. I did not own a car six months a go. I know how to get around this town." She reached down for the coat; near her feet. She put it on. ...

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...