Relationships

Biting The Dog

/ Anita Marie / 15 Comments

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I have this rule about Fridays- I don’t take any crud with me from the week into the weekend or the bright shiny new week that starts on Monday.

Except for this time.

There were little things and big things that were done to my friends and family that- you know -I do believe I’ll deal with.

What changed you may be wondering.

I can’t ignore the fact that there are some things that people say or do 

that have to be answered for and accounted for.

So why I have made an exception

this time?

Because now I’m a writer with BIG imagination.

See Ya.

amm

A Nice Place To Visit

/ Anita Marie / 16 Comments

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When I was a kid, I lived on a neat street.

The kids were neat and the parents were neat and all the kids were in Scout Troops or took swimming lessons at the pool.

They all went on camping trips and had barbeques during the summer and during the winter they all went skiing.

Except for me, of course.

When we first moved to this neat street my parents used to try and force me to play with the neighbor kids and I wouldn’t- I said they were Zombies and that I was pretty sure they’d eaten the last kid who lived in our house.

I remember the way my Dad looked at me the first time I said that. He just shook his head and I’m not sure but I think it was weeks before he said another word to me.

I was nine at the time- so I could be off on that by a bit. 

The problem was I wasn’t a neat kid, I was that weird little kid that didn’t have any friends and never got invited to parties and I got kicked out of Blue Birds because I forgot to bring the treats when it was my turn to do treat day.

Actually the Blue Bird Leader’s daughter kicked me out- I didn’t care because they never got treats that day-, which still makes me laugh when I think about it.

I may have been a weird kid, but I wasn’t a dumb kid and I made it a point to never be with any of these kids alone- or with their parents who smiled too much.

In fact, I used to have nightmares about those kids and their parents and in my dreams they were running me down with their station wagons.I still have those dreams.

Over the years I ran into some of these kids- I drove one to their final resting place in a hearse, a friend of mine arrested one for molesting his children and another is in prison for killing her stepson.

After I kept hearing these stories I decided to take a drive down that Neat Street.

I saw the Neat Parents- they were puttering around their lawns or checking their mail or talking to their neighbors (just like the old days, it’s true some things never change) and I was horrified at how they all looked so worn out and old and tired and I realized those weren’t the Neat Parents-

I was looking at the Neat Kids. 

I slammed my brakes on and pulled visor down and looked in my vanity mirror and checked my face. I don’t know what I was looking for, but it was awhile before I felt calm enough to drive away.

I could hear myself, that nine year old Anita say, “ Told you, they’re Zombies. Now let’s go home.”

And that’s exactly what I did.

Midnight Conversation at Riversleigh Manor

/ Anita Marie / 2 Comments

I wrote this a couple of years ago- and it’s one of my favorites because of the two nameless ‘characters’.

I don’t where they came from but I like them-they’re bone chilling.

With that….

Enjoy! 

From my Soul Food Cafe Prompt Archives 

amm

 

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There’s something buried in the Gardener’s Shed and why would someone bury something that wasn’t dead yet?

The thing in the shed isn’t buried very deep, so if you were to crawl over the dead fall in front of the door and were able to push your way through he matted cobwebs and you didn’t mind the smell of rotting leaves and small unburied creatures you’d find  there under the window a slightly raised mound of earth.

Were you to look at the raised mound long enough and the light somehow managed to find it’s way through the little panes of glass covered with dust and dirt you’d think someone was lying there on their side with one arm cradling their cheek and the other laying comfortably on their side.

Wouldn’t you?

If you brought a flashlight and the beam was bright you might think you could see something wrong with the entire left side of the sleeping figure’s face. You might think that maybe that the face was gone, smashed in by something like that shovel in the corner.

Isn’t that right?

They might wonder what you were doing back there in a rotting shed behind the Manor House in the dead of Night, they might see you take the shovel and try to smooth and pound that little raised mound of Earth flat.

That’s what they’d see wouldn’t they?

So I must ask you again, why would you bury something that is not dead yet?

Go ahead you can tell me.

Just keep your hands were I can see them.

 

25 Things My Mom Taught Me

/ Anita Marie / 8 Comments

Geeze!

Pull a prank on your kid Sister and pay for it for the rest of your natural life. 

Because of an incident involving a nightmare and a Baby Alive Doll my Sister owns me–( see #7 )

It’s a long story but the end result is that she gets to commandeer the Irregular Bones Staff (that’s me and the Old Spice Guy) whenever she wants.

She wants this posted.

And she means it.

amm

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Here they are-25 things My Mother taught me

( except for Anita-

she was raised by Wolves )

I mean me –

Old Spice Guy

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
“If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished
cleaning”

2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL .
“If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next
week!”

4. My mother taught me LOGIC.
” Because I said so, that’s why.”

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC.
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the
store with me.”

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

7. My mother taught me IRONY .
“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER.
“This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it.”

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY.
“If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times. Don’t exaggerate!”

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE.
“I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.”

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
“Stop acting like your father!”

15. My mother taught me about ENVY.
“There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don’t have
wonderful parents like you do.”

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION.
“Just wait until we get home.”

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING .
“You are going to get it when you get home!”

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE.
“If you don’t stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way.”

19. My mother taught me ESP.
“Put your sweater on; don’t you think I know when you are cold?”

20. My mother taught me HUMOR .
“When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.”

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT.
“If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll never grow up.”

22. My mother taught me GENETICS.
“You’re just like your father.”

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS .
“Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?”

24. My mother taught me WISDOM.
“When you get to be my age, you’ll understand.”

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE.
“One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you

Viva Cheeto La Frito !

/ Anita Marie / 2 Comments

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When I was about 6 and my brother Doug was 5 years old Chiquita Banana had an ad campaign going on and from what I can remember this woman with a basket on her head used to sing about Chiquita Bananas

“I’m Chiquita banana and I’ve come to say –

Bananas have to ripen in a certain way-

When they are fleck’d with brown and have a golden hue –

Bananas taste the best and are best for you –
Music © 1945 Shawnee Press Inc.

Doug loved bananas, he loved that stupid song and he loved to tease me because he could.

 

So on the day that he discovered Chiquita Anita rhymed and he could sing about his favorite fruit and torture me all in one wonderful stroke he sang that song non-stop.

 

 He sang it on the way to school, he sang it in the bathroom he called me up when I was playing at my friend’s houses and sang it over the phone.

 

You’d think that he would get bored with the Chiquita Anita thing. And he did. Good thing he discovered Cheetos.

 

It started off as Anita La Cheeto and then I became Cheeto La Frito. 

 

I never lived it down and on the day they bury me he’s going to magic marker Cheeto La Frito on my headstone.

 

But over the years I’ve grown and matured ( unlike some OTHER people in our family ) and  I’ve learned to deal with my little brother’s stupid sense of humor.

 

When we were younger every once and awhile I’d deal with it by going  into combat mode and I’d spread the stories like the one about how my brother’s girlfriend was such a mean vindictive brat that her pet turtle ran away from home and how my brother  went out in the middle of the night to look for it and stepped on it by accident.

 

Me and Doug are both older and wiser now ( well, that’s HALF true ), Cheeto La Frito is patient, and thoughtful and Cheeto La Frito has learned that male pattern baldness runs in our family.

I am so ready for this Little Brother

 

Everyone knows Cheeto La Frito shows no Mercy- and if they didn’t before…

 

Well they do now.

 

Love from

am

 

 

 

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The First Time

/ Anita Marie / 4 Comments

 

999629-100a.jpgI hadn’t been to a funeral or in a cemetery for over 6 years- that’s how long it had been since I’d left my job at the Funeral home. I hadn’t thought about that until the night my friend called. 

Death and I were no longer in a relationship.

“My Mom is in Hospice now. She’s dieing Anita, so you’ll want to come in and say good bye.”

I did want to say good-bye, so I went and when I get to the hospice it’s all pink and quiet and there was a Dominos Pizza Delivery car parked out front.

I sat out in my car for a minute and got myself ready.

I took off my makeup (in case I started to cry) and I pulled my hair back and braided it.

I’m not a Mortician anymore, I told myself. I don’t have to deal with Death the way I used to. When someone has died or they’re dieing I can cry or get angry or shut down but I don’t have to separate myself from the moment.

In a way I was meeting Death again for the first time.

That scared me more then seeing my friend’s dieing Mother.

I got out of the Car and went into the Hospice and checked in and found my friend’s Mom.

Her room was full of people and there she was in the bed and I could see that a machine was breathing for her and it occurred to me that once people had said good bye- well, that’s what we were here for.

I went over to the bed and took her hand; I wasn’t a Mortician anymore- I kept telling myself. Death and me have gone our separate ways.

I could feel my friend looking at me from the other side of the bed and when I looked up she said to me, ” She knows we’re here for her Anita.”

I felt her hand and I looked down at the bed and I felt my face arrange itself on it’s own just like in the old days.

My face, quiet, dignified and still.Death’s face was down there looking back up at me quiet, dignified and still and I said, ” I’m here.”

I looked back up at my friend and she was smiling. ” She knows.”

I nodded and sat down and held that familiar hand and talked to my friend until her husband and kids arrived.

I stayed for as long as I could after that and on my way out my phone rang.

 It was my husband.” How much longer does she have? ” he asked.

” Just a Sec. ” I mumbled into the phone and then I went outside looked around and said, ” She’s gone.”

I got back into my car, brushed my hair out and went home.

It took me a long time to fall asleep that night.

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The Flower Room

/ Anita Marie / 5 Comments

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She smells  like the Flower Room at the Funeral Home I used to work at.

The Flower Room is this little room you walk through to get to the Embalming Room.

Because you have to stand there and punch in a code and then wait for the lock to pop you have no choice but to breath in the heavy, eye watering smell of flowers.

There is no real air in that room, I think in their last efforts to thrive the flowers and potted plants drink it all in and what’s left is the perfume. That God-awful fog of flower stench.

The smell is permanent; that’s where the flowers have gone for the passed 100 years this building has been in existence, that’s where the flowers will continue to go in the future, that’s where they will sit until they’re either taken into the chapel or out to the graveside.

I hate that smell- I hate it worse then decomp, I hate it worse then purge. I hate cut flowers anyway.

Back to the story, she smelled exactly like the flower room and when she would walk by me I’d hold my breath. Because I would have to hold my breath that also meant I never talked to her and when she would stand there and ask me a question my nose would start to run.

It was no loss, whenever I walked by her in the halls she’d say something that sounded like ” Hole-Ah  Sen-your-eata ” in this awful Spanish Accent, which is dumb because I’m not Spanish but she thought I was.

And I learned what she thinks in this world is all that counts.

If she thinks you’re a Mexican, you’re a Mexican, if she thinks that 2 and 2 equals five you better PROVE to her it doesn’t. If she thinks your place is to serve, then darn it, you better ask if she wants you to kiss her backside after you get done kissing her feet.

So here’s the deal.

She expected me to drop whatever I was doing in the morning to open the door for her.

She told me, when I asked why she felt like I need to hold the door open for her when nobody who walked in before or after her needed that particular service, that it was my job to ” support the Staff as they see fit.”

This came from the mouth of the girl who ran the Copy Machines and checked the mail in for our Administration Staff.

I told my Boss what she said. He reminded me I actually out ranked her. He told me to find a way to deal with it and he’d stick by my plan.

 Then he told me not to hurt her to bad.

This was the routine; she’d stand in front of this unlocked door and tap on the glass over and over and over until I walked over and pushed it open. Then she’d breeze by me stinking like 100 years worth of flowers that had been stored in a windowless airless room and I’d have to pull the door closed after her.

The unlocked door.

The one she could have opened herself.

After about a week of this baloney I made my stand.

She starts one morning…tap, tap, tap and she’s pointing down to the door handle and then to her watch and then she starts tapping on the door again. 

This is a glass door and she almost has her faced pushed right into the glass and she’s smiling- she’s smiling this big toothy smile.

I go up to the door and take my keys out.

I hold them up and point to them. 

Then I put them into the lock…And I lock the door.

Then I gave her the finger and walked off.

I don’t hate the smell of flowers the way I used to.

In fact I’d have to say I find them a little sweet now.

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It’s The Count That’s The Thought

/ Anita Marie / Leave a comment

I love the Macabre and in honor of this site hitting 666 I’ve posted one of the most devilish scenes from one of my favorite movies….no I tell a lie

it IS my favorite movie-

The Abominable Dr. Phibes