Everyday, at Dave and Barbara's house, Tommy woke-up to the sound of the alarm clock going off at 6:15.
It was way earlier in the morning than Momma had ever made him get-up.
Tommy would wonder why the birds seemed so happy, when all he wanted to do was bury his head back under the covers. Which he often did. And then Tommy would get up to go pee and then play with the trains or pick his nose or do any other variety of little boy things--even sometimes doing his homework from the day before, just to prolong going down the stairs.
Everyday, after Tommy had wasted as much time as he possibly could, he would put on the school clothes, left out the night before by Barbara.
And everyday when Tommy came downstairs, Barbara would tell him to take a bath. In her high, clipped voice and while casting a disapproving stare down at him, she would say, "Go take a bath, Tommy."
And Tommy hated baths.
In general, Tommy just hated bathrooms.
Everyday trudging out of the kitchen anyway, Tommy could count always count on the order to brush his teeth too, before reaching the stairs.
And Tommy hated to brush his teeth.
And he hated Barbara, too.
She was always making him clean something.
One day, when Tommy came down the stairs, Barbara did not say, "Go take a bath, Tommy." Instead she said, "Come here, Tommy." Then Barbara order Tommy over her knee and she pulled down the elastic band to the waist of his jogging pants and the three slaps left Tommy ass an angry red. He felt it.
"Bitch," he said.
Barbara pulled Tommy to his feet, she gripped his arms, She said, "Do not ever come down my stairs, without a bath again."
Tommy had a bath and went to school that day. At morning recess, Tommy found some moist clay in the sand, near the back edge of school property. The was grey and he thought he could work it well. Tommy built the beginnings of a city. A house. A variety store. A bank and a bar. At least this is what he told himself, after he had built the four identical lumps. He decided he needed some sticks. He did and then the bell rang.
At lunch hour, Tommy decided to gather a few more things, before returning to build his city. He gathered fancy stones and gum wrappers(for windows). He picked-up straws and other loose bits. He asked Bobby McGill if he could borrow one of his dinky cars. He found a Coke bottle and decided it was a tower.
He gathered the stuff for most of the hour.
Miranda followed him to his city, for final recess. "Where yah going?" When Tommy told her to go away, she said to him, "No. I want to know where you are going."
Miranda ended up adding leafy weeds(for trees)to the city.
"Want to meet after to school and build some more?" she asked, when the bell rang again.
"I can't," he told her.
"I'll let you put the Coke bottle in me," she offered.
To which Tommy replied, "I can't. They'll call the cops, if I am not there on time."
"Who will call the cops?"
"The Parents." He nodded his head at her.
Tommy noticed what a mess he was, during his walk home from school. As the day wore on, the sun had baked him into a chalky mess.
And it felt gross between his fingers.
Tommy decided he had better sneak in the back door and up the back stairs.
And after he did, Tommy had himself a bath. He was horror-stricken by the mess he left behind in the tub.
And Tommy turned in surprise and more fear, when the bathroom door opened. He covered himself desperately and Barbara dropped half the stack of towels she was carrying. "Oh, Tommy. Fuck. I am sorry. Oh my God, what a mess."
Two days later, when Tommy came down the stairs, Barbara said, "You're going to see the doctor today."
Barbara did not speak to him, during the car ride there.
And Barbara only wanted to talk to the doctor, while they were at the office.
"It will hurt, Barbara." Dr. Stewart did not like what Barbara had asked, after the nurse had taken Tommy to be weighed and for a lollipop. "He will remember this for the rest of his life."
"Listen, Paul," she began, "I really would not be asking for this to be done,
unless I thought it were imperative to do so. Tommy came to us just...Filthy. You should have seen his toenails! And the problem here is that bathing does not simply solve the problem. Dirt just naturally clings to this child."
"Dirt clings to every child, Barbara," the good doctor tried to reason. "You're not really being serious about this."
"Paul, we have known each other for twenty years now. You should know when I am being serious. This child is constantly...Filthy. There really is no other word to describe him. I am his foster mom. There is no way I just should go in there and scrub him all down. Who knows what he could say to CPS."
"Exactly. Child Protective Services. They are not going to want to pay for this."
"Paul...We both know it is better for him. Cleaner for him." She sighed.
Dr. Paul Stewart sighed, too. "Fine. He has an infection. Let me write you a prescription. I'll get a day set and call you tomorrow."
When Barbara and Tommy were taking the car ride home, Barbara began. "Tommy. I know sometimes it is hard to talk about stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Tommy replied; politely.
"You know...Penis stuff."
Embarrassed, Tommy did not reply again.
So Barbara went on. "The doctor says you have an infection. We have to go to the pharmacy now, to buy you medicine. He says you have an infection is in your penis. A bad infection. And now you have to have an operation."
"What?" Tommy yelled.
"Don't yell at me, Tommy, it is not my fault you didn't tell me that your penis was hurting."
And then, since she mentioned it, Tommy did notice a tingling, at the end of it. And over the night it got worse.
It was way earlier in the morning than Momma had ever made him get-up.
Tommy would wonder why the birds seemed so happy, when all he wanted to do was bury his head back under the covers. Which he often did. And then Tommy would get up to go pee and then play with the trains or pick his nose or do any other variety of little boy things--even sometimes doing his homework from the day before, just to prolong going down the stairs.
Everyday, after Tommy had wasted as much time as he possibly could, he would put on the school clothes, left out the night before by Barbara.
And everyday when Tommy came downstairs, Barbara would tell him to take a bath. In her high, clipped voice and while casting a disapproving stare down at him, she would say, "Go take a bath, Tommy."
And Tommy hated baths.
In general, Tommy just hated bathrooms.
Everyday trudging out of the kitchen anyway, Tommy could count always count on the order to brush his teeth too, before reaching the stairs.
And Tommy hated to brush his teeth.
And he hated Barbara, too.
She was always making him clean something.
One day, when Tommy came down the stairs, Barbara did not say, "Go take a bath, Tommy." Instead she said, "Come here, Tommy." Then Barbara order Tommy over her knee and she pulled down the elastic band to the waist of his jogging pants and the three slaps left Tommy ass an angry red. He felt it.
"Bitch," he said.
Barbara pulled Tommy to his feet, she gripped his arms, She said, "Do not ever come down my stairs, without a bath again."
Tommy had a bath and went to school that day. At morning recess, Tommy found some moist clay in the sand, near the back edge of school property. The was grey and he thought he could work it well. Tommy built the beginnings of a city. A house. A variety store. A bank and a bar. At least this is what he told himself, after he had built the four identical lumps. He decided he needed some sticks. He did and then the bell rang.
At lunch hour, Tommy decided to gather a few more things, before returning to build his city. He gathered fancy stones and gum wrappers(for windows). He picked-up straws and other loose bits. He asked Bobby McGill if he could borrow one of his dinky cars. He found a Coke bottle and decided it was a tower.
He gathered the stuff for most of the hour.
Miranda followed him to his city, for final recess. "Where yah going?" When Tommy told her to go away, she said to him, "No. I want to know where you are going."
Miranda ended up adding leafy weeds(for trees)to the city.
"Want to meet after to school and build some more?" she asked, when the bell rang again.
"I can't," he told her.
"I'll let you put the Coke bottle in me," she offered.
To which Tommy replied, "I can't. They'll call the cops, if I am not there on time."
"Who will call the cops?"
"The Parents." He nodded his head at her.
Tommy noticed what a mess he was, during his walk home from school. As the day wore on, the sun had baked him into a chalky mess.
And it felt gross between his fingers.
Tommy decided he had better sneak in the back door and up the back stairs.
And after he did, Tommy had himself a bath. He was horror-stricken by the mess he left behind in the tub.
And Tommy turned in surprise and more fear, when the bathroom door opened. He covered himself desperately and Barbara dropped half the stack of towels she was carrying. "Oh, Tommy. Fuck. I am sorry. Oh my God, what a mess."
Two days later, when Tommy came down the stairs, Barbara said, "You're going to see the doctor today."
Barbara did not speak to him, during the car ride there.
And Barbara only wanted to talk to the doctor, while they were at the office.
"It will hurt, Barbara." Dr. Stewart did not like what Barbara had asked, after the nurse had taken Tommy to be weighed and for a lollipop. "He will remember this for the rest of his life."
"Listen, Paul," she began, "I really would not be asking for this to be done,
unless I thought it were imperative to do so. Tommy came to us just...Filthy. You should have seen his toenails! And the problem here is that bathing does not simply solve the problem. Dirt just naturally clings to this child."
"Dirt clings to every child, Barbara," the good doctor tried to reason. "You're not really being serious about this."
"Paul, we have known each other for twenty years now. You should know when I am being serious. This child is constantly...Filthy. There really is no other word to describe him. I am his foster mom. There is no way I just should go in there and scrub him all down. Who knows what he could say to CPS."
"Exactly. Child Protective Services. They are not going to want to pay for this."
"Paul...We both know it is better for him. Cleaner for him." She sighed.
Dr. Paul Stewart sighed, too. "Fine. He has an infection. Let me write you a prescription. I'll get a day set and call you tomorrow."
When Barbara and Tommy were taking the car ride home, Barbara began. "Tommy. I know sometimes it is hard to talk about stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Tommy replied; politely.
"You know...Penis stuff."
Embarrassed, Tommy did not reply again.
So Barbara went on. "The doctor says you have an infection. We have to go to the pharmacy now, to buy you medicine. He says you have an infection is in your penis. A bad infection. And now you have to have an operation."
"What?" Tommy yelled.
"Don't yell at me, Tommy, it is not my fault you didn't tell me that your penis was hurting."
And then, since she mentioned it, Tommy did notice a tingling, at the end of it. And over the night it got worse.
Comments
Ouch.
Q