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mom tells me i was an awful child.  just awful.  after a family gathering we had at my grandmother’s house when i was in high-school, i was headed home with her and my aunt suz and i remarked about one of my younger cousins who’d just been a little monster all night long.  i don’t even remember what i said, but the two of them just exploded into laughter. being a high-schooler, i was very self-conscious about this.  “what?” i asked.  “what’d i say? i’m serious!”  they laughed at me again, the kind of laugh that has to hit a certain intensity before it can taper off. these two obviously knew something i didn’t.  i was confused.

“son, what you saw tonight was a fraction–A FRACTION–of what you used to be as little boy.  nobody else even noticed woody tonight because they all remember what YOU were like!”  my aunt suz, on this car ride and about a thousand other times since, corroborated this.  “alex, you were the worst damn kid i ever saw.”  she laughed at me again.  “tonight–that was nothing.”  i’ve since managed to get some pretty choice LITTLE BASTARD ALEX stories from my mom, and i have to admit, they are pretty scary.  it gives me shudders that beastly miscreantism and total fucking disregard for one’s welfare runs in my blood.  my poor wife.

thinking about this on my ride home tonight, i managed to recall one of the many times i’d been in trouble when i was little.  i’d been hanging out with a kid i wasn’t supposed to.  dude was my age (i was like, 6 or 7) but he was rrrrough around the edges and he had some older brothers that were straight thugs and a dad who could scare the fucking paint off the arizona stucco with a look.  kid’s name was nacho, and  that’s not a joke.  i met up with nacho one time and he was riding this little-ass BMX bike with these noise-making baubles on the spokes.  they would clink as the wheels spun.  the bike was brightly colored, and as i think about it now, it strikes me that bad little nacho had probably ganked it from an innocent little girl.

i got something outta this day, though.  when nacho and i were cruising around our apartment complex, with him probably looking for trouble and with me probably thinking i had to get home, he was riding the little bike and saying over and over in a mock-badass sing-song, “muthafuckin’ titty-suckin’ two-balled bitch!”  he had to’ve gotten it from one of his soon-to-be-in-jail brothers, but man, i was fucking in awe of nacho and them.  badasses.  my mom, at the very sight of nacho (she’d met him one time) was skeptical enough about him to say she didn’t want me hangin’ with him.  when later this night i came home and she heard me saying “muthafuckin’ titty-suckin’ two-balled bitch!”–just to myself, really–my short friendship with him was over.

the damage had been done though.  to this day i still catch myself saying that shit.  i rattle it off at work all the time, too.  what can i say?  i am a bad kid!


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