Bear with me here. This piece is likely to have more spelling and grammatical errors than a Democrat public school teacher. But, I digress. Let’s get on to the story.
I spent two years of my teenage life in a rural little town in Georgia. My Grandaddy on my Mama’s side decided to buy a “farm”; thus Mama and I were thrust into the midst of his dream. Daddy was a “Professional Entertainer”, served our country as a Master Sergeant in the US Army; and at the time was touring the world with his gigs.
We were summarily removed from the home in which I spent my formative years to … dum-de-dum-dum.. “Tend The Farm”. I was 14, going on 15 and was to “Be a lady at all times” ingrained from the time I could talk.
I was suddenly in a new school. A Country high school. I despised it. Every bit of it.
And knew no one.
Until…… I met Eva. Think about it.. that name.. Eva. I was enthralled with her very presence. She was liquid motion. When she went to the front of every class to sharpen her pencil the boys threw change and dollar bills at her. Her walk should have been patented. She was a full blooded Cherokee Indian and sex on a plate.
For some reason, it was decided we should become fast friends. We were inseparable.
Thus, she decided we should egg cars on Halloween after we had ridden atop the town fire engine, which we got into plenty heap shit over, by the way. And I’d lost a shoe.
I find we’re in a corn field next to a busy road that we’d walked nearly a mile to reach; and we each have two dozen eggs we’d purchased at the local grocery store for fifty cents. She whispers, “Lie down in the grass and wait ’til you see headlights comin’ down the road.” I didn’t have long to wait… here comes something!! I jumped up, lobbed a huge cackle berry at the passing pickup truck and threw myself to the ground to keep from being spotted. It was at that moment she jumped up from her hiding spot and began yanking her pants down; yelling at the top of her lungs, “Oh lordyJesusgawdamighty, I’ve got a cricket in my damned britches!!”
I learned three things that night:
How not to act like a lady, cuss words I never dreamed were possible, and I really could run faster than I ever thought after staring into old man Henderson’s double barrel shotgun.