My mother likes to say that, unlike her, who transformed into a lady beast through life's trials and tribulations, I was born a baby beast. Apparently, I emerged from the womb like a baby wolverine, with tiny claws ready to cut anyone who dare cross me. I think she’s right, but I often oscillate between feeling conflicted and just embracing my savage tendencies. “Why am I like this, God?” I ponder. “It’s better than being a doormat,” I retort. While scanning my brain for beastly behaviors, my mind wanders back to a time in the late 1970s...
When I was six years old, my mother and I lived on Coronado Island, an idyllic little town on the coast near San Diego, California. It was just the two of us. My mom and dad were in the throes of a back-and-forth, on-again-off-again shuffle. My mother had not yet morphed into the tough-as-nails woman she is today. Back then, she was young, naive, and nursing a broken heart. She was an optimist who saw the good in everyone. I did not inherit that inclination. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the ability to look at someone and know exactly who they are.
“Liar.”
“Whore.”
“Emotionally unstable.”
“Sweet, but oh so stupid.”
I read people like a book and act accordingly. Some might call it a gift. The less fortunate will call it delusional.
My mom and I lived in a tiny house with a white picket fence on a tree-lined street. The neighborhood was predominantly comprised of young families with children, many of whom were military families…with fathers stationed at the Naval base in town. There were numerous kids close to my age who regularly played outside until the streetlights came on. My mom would never let me wander outside alone. Being an only child, I longed for someone to play with when I got home from school. I didn't know most of the neighborhood kids because they all attended the local public school, whereas I went to a Catholic school.
On our block, there were two girls, Kelly and Heather, whom I desperately wanted to befriend. I’d been watching them from my living room window for a while, and I could see that these girls were a good time. They weren’t anything like the goody two-shoes at my school. They had a mischievous edge that intrigued me. Both were blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and dressed in what I considered the attire of pretty, popular girls. They resembled the models in my favorite toy commercials. I was convinced they had homemaker mothers who baked, older chiseled-facedbrothers who were very protective of them, and hardworking fathers who came home promptly at 6 pm every evening for family dinner. After their homemade dessert, the family likely retired to their study and built interesting things out of Legos. “This is how you build a skyscraper,” the dad would instruct them. These girls were definitely part of the All-American families I’d seen on the tube my whole young life.
By contrast, I didn’t own a single Lego. And even if I did, I’d likely end up building things alone. Although Kelly and Heather were two and three years older than me, I made it my mission to be inducted into their small and seemingly exclusive friend group.
My first obstacle was my mom, who didn’t like me going outside to play alone. “Please, Mom. I promise I’ll stay in the front yard,” I pleaded with my mother. She finally gave in after weeks of my relentless begging. “Ju can eh-stay in the front yard,” my mother agreed. I began stalking my prey with an ingenious plan to lure them in. For my first trap, I brought out my child-sized table and four chairs, then set up a tea party with my elegant Holly Hobbie china. I dressed up in my finest princess gown and set up my best stuffed animals as the guests around my table. Once they saw this display, they wouldn’t be able to resist me.
“No one with half a brain and a little bit of class can resist bone china.”
I waited for Kelly and Heather to walk by for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I heard their giggles in the distance. “Do you guys want to come to my tea party?” I blurted out in excitement as soon as they crossed the threshold to my yard. Laughter ensued, followed by, “That’s baby stuff.” Baby stuff? I was chagrined! Before I could muster up a worthy comeback, they were gone. These girls were going to be a tough nut to crack. I was going to have to up the ante and bring out the big guns if I wanted to get their attention. So, I retreated inside to hatch my next plan.
The following day, I was ready. If these girls wanted big-kid stuff, then they were gonna get it. I got rid of the Holly Hobbie tea set and stuffed animals, then replaced them with the hottest game to hit the market since Operation…Hungry Hungry Hippos. This game was all the rage and a kid magnet. I'd heard from my cousin that pedophiles preferred this game over puppies as a luring mechanism to get kids into their nondescript white vans. It felt a little risky. I didn’t want to get arrested or give off the wrong impression. But these girls were just too cool, so I decided to dance with the devil.
But then, something unanticipated happened.
“Oh man! You’ve got Hungry Hungry Hippos?! Can I play,” asked some kid from down the street.
“No. These seats are taken,” I quickly snapped back.
“By who,” she annoyingly probed.
“My friends who will be here soon!”
“Oh, come on! One game? Please?”
And she wasn’t the only one. The game was a hit with every single kid that walked by my yard that day. Children started lining up at my front gate. It was becoming such a spectacle that my mother came out to see what all the fuss was all about. Thrilled to see me making new friends she insisted I let some of the kids play the game. By the time Kelly and Heather walked by, I had a full house and no available seats at my table. They stopped to see what all the commotion was about but didn’t say anything. I made eye contact with them and then they went on their merry ways. I felt like I had moved the needle in a positive direction. Granted, they didn’t speak to me, but they knew I existed, and that felt like a win. Also, I was clearly popular with all the other neighborhood kids, and that had to count for something, right?
A few days had passed since my Hungry Hippo rager, and I was blowing bubbles in my front yard when I heard the familiar sound of giggles. I immediately recognized the cackles as Kelly and Heather’s. My heart started pounding, and before I knew it, they were standing at my front gate.
“Do you want to play with us?”
OH MY GAWD! I had done it! It was happening! They wanted to be friends with me!
“Ummm. Okay. What do you want to play?” I asked, trying not to seem overly excited. These girls were third and fourth graders! I was a lowly first grader!
“Do you know Mark from across the street?” Heather asked me.
“I think so.”
Mark was a pudgy, redheaded boy who lived catty-corner from me. I didn’t really know him, but he had attended my Hungry Hungry Hippos mixer. He’d been very polite and helped me retrieve all the game marbles when some of the other kids became unruly.
Heather and Kelly briefed me on their plans for our playdate. We were going to cross the street, something I was not allowed to do, and visit Mark's house. Once at Mark's house, we'd knock on his front door and when he opened it, we were going to scream, “YOU'RE A FAT UGLY PIG” and then make a run for it. The thing about it was that when they said “we,” what they really meant was “me.”
As Heather explained the plan to me, I got a good look at her for the first time. She had looked glamorous from afar, but up close, it was a whole different ballgame. She had the kind of nose that was egregiously turned up, and when she spoke, her nose yanked her upper lip up, exposing a fair amount of gums. I became uncomfortable at the sight of it. Looking clear up her nasal cavity felt like a violation of sorts. I tried looking away, but every time I did, Kelly would yell and instruct me to “PAY ATTENTION!”
I had gotten exactly what I wanted. There I was with the girls I wanted to befriend—the bad girls. I had gone against my good Catholic girl sensibilities and walked myself into the belly of the beast. I had known from the moment I first laid eyes on these two that they were mean girls. And now, I was on the precipice of being jumped into their street gang!
“Do you understand your job?” Kelly asked.
“Yes,” I very sweetly responded.
I was trying to play it cool. I didn’t want them to turn on me. These girls were bullies who were significantly bigger than me.
We crossed the street, which was a tricky endeavor considering it was literally a highway. Cars would come flying down this street directly off the Coronado bridge. I knew that if my mother caught wind of this, I'd be in big trouble. But I was in too deep, there was no going back!
As I walked up to Mark’s front door, Kelly and Heather hid behind a car parked in his driveway. I could hear their hyena laughs from his porch. I took a deep breath and lightly knocked on the door. I was praying that no one was home, and this would all become a distant memory soon.
“Please, God. If you get me out of this, I promise never to cross the street without my mom's permission again,” my internal voice begged.
Just then, the door swung open, and there stood chubby little Mark. He had bright orange hair and pale skin covered in tons of freckles. It seemed like every inch of him was covered in them. I knew what I had to do. I took a deep breath.
“Hello,” he greeted me. He looked a bit confused.
“Hi. Do you know Heather and Kelly?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he responded as his eyes probed behind me.
“They wanted me to knock on your door and say not-so-nice things, but I think it's because they love you and want to marry you. They're right behind that car,” I said, pointing in their direction.
"THAT’S NOT TRUE!” Kelly and Heather screamed.
Panic filled their faces as they came running out from behind the car. Heather yelled, “It was Kelly's idea!” Kelly started ugly crying. Mark watched in bewilderment as chaos unfolded in front of his eyes. I looked over at them and yelled, “who's the baby now?” then made a run for it.
Those two girls didn’t know what hit them. The sweet little first grader they tried to take advantage of turned out to be a savage in disguise. I didn’t plan to stick the knife in their sides and twist it; my natural inclination just took over. I guess, I was just born that way.
Thank goodness I made it home safely that day, and my mom never even knew I was gone. I walked into the house and asked my mom if she could buy me a set of Legos. “I'd like to build some things, Mom. Wanna help me?”
“Sure,” my mom responded. “Do you want some cheesecake? I made it from scratch.”
That was an amazing story! You are an absolute legend!
I hope all is well with you, Adryana. I know you seemed a bit ticked off on the last Famboogie. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the dipsticks of the world. But, don’t waste your time and energy on them. I work a part-time job in collections at a music store. It would be easy for me to think that everyone is a deadbeat. But, then I remember all the myriad customers who pay their bills on time, and my faith in people is restored. You and Patrick are doing an amazing job. I have learned and continue to learn so much via your broadcast and your writings. I am grateful for that. We need our Pistol Packin’ Mama to be healthy. So, take those deep breaths, take some breaks from your work, and know that the majority, though, perhaps, silent majority, of us really do appreciate all you do.