Pythian Games

by

a.m. moscoso

It started snowing here , just north of Seattle, Washington on Friday so when I sat down to write today I thought maybe I’d revisit a story I wrote back in December.

It fits.

Enjoy!

amm

On the Third Day

We Toss Out The Left Overs 

A few years ago my bus got caught in a snow storm and the going was slow.

S-L-O-W

So me and my friends told jokes, we told stories, we ate the Christmas Candy and food some of us had brought home from work parties that day.

Somebody busted into the wine bottle I had in my backpack (a gift from an oh-so generous Secret Santa) and someone else made a game out of the five of us drinking it without the other passengers catching on.

Oh Sure.

Nobody did.

Anyway.

Seeing that the other passengers were nervous about being stranded on the freeway and were openly worried about having to walk home or other such real and uncomfortable options me and my friends decided to cheer everybody up by telling stories at the top of our lungs

- about -

THAT TIME WE GOT STUCK ON THE BUS

The worst time was when there was a shooting, the gunman was loose on I-5 or was near it ( I forget the particulars ) so law enforcement shut the freeway down.

It was warm that day.

One of my bus friends decided after an hour or so to start talking about lakes and oceans and water fountains and Italian Sodas.

By the time he was done- (we remembered with hysterics) half the bus had to go to the bathroom, and we bet that the other half would have drank it.

AND THEN THERE WAS THAT OTHER TIME

The bus broke down and they promised that another bus was going to stop and get us…of course it didn’t and we watched it speed on by- but hurray! There was a  second bus that came right up behind it about 15 minutes later and we thought it was going to pull in front of us so we could all get on.

Instead it stopped right along side of our bus.

I could see what was happening.

My brain locked.

” No.” I started to pound on the window like that kid in the horror film” Audrey Rose ” and I start yelling over and over ” No! For the love of God No!”

What is it? Everyone is asking me.

” It’s broken down…our rescue bus is BROKEN DOWN!”

AND WHAT ABOUT THAT TIME

We were stuck on the freeway because the Driver had called in and requested that someone come out and put chains on the bus because when the pavement is black and twinkling and big fluffy flakes are starting to fall, it’s safe to say that unless you’re a Polar Bear you probably shouldn’t  be out there driving around without a little traction.

 So thinking that no one was really listening except for my usual bus pals I told the story about that time me my friends and sneaked into this graveyard and built a massive snow fort  and snow-people all around the grounds and how we even decorated one of the trees and how we later called the Funeral Home and blamed the entire mess on the college students who thought it was cool to hold seances and burn black candles on the headstones and things like that.

” Wow, you and your friends were evil little kids ” someone told me

and I said

” You know, like we did that two weeks ago. “

a somewhat autobiographical

tongue in cheek tale

by anita marie moscoso 

Inspired By The Soul Food Cafe Writing Prompt

The Flies

Daisy Cutting was not normal- her parents knew it, her brothers and sisters knew it and her dog knew it too.

That’s why Tarzan lived under the porch instead of above it and if they could have the rest of Daisy Cutting’s family would have followed Tarzan under the porch too- but there wasn’t enough room for all of them.

So the rest of the family was forced to deal with their world with Daisy in it in their own way. The Cutting Family learned to be invisible- which was easy when all anyone really noticed was Daisy.

She was very hard to ignore no matter how much you tried.

On the day her parents found out they were expecting a baby their house burned down, on the day Daisy was born the sky above the hospital turned black.

Not from thunderclouds- from birds.

The noise they made was deafening and the smell was bad and then while they were in  mid-flight they died  and fell with soft wet thuds for miles around.

Mrs Cutting saw the rain of dead birds from her hospital window and she  raised her baby to her lips and whispered into Daisy’s ear, “what have you done Daisy? “

Of course Daisy couldn’t answer because she wasn’t even an hour old but she did laugh and that’s when Mrs. Cutting saw Daisy already had teeth.

” Well, ” Mrs. Cutting said ” at least you don’t have horns too.”

Then Daisy laughed some more.

The funny thing about Daisy is that she never really laughed again after that day- she just smiled.

A lot.

Daisy Cutting had a normal life- she had her own room, she had her own toys and she got two full grown black cats from her family on her 12th birthday.

Her cats, Potato and Chips didn’t hide under the porch when they saw her. Everyone including Daisy figured they hung around just to see what sort of odd thing she would come up with next but that was in the nature of cats and the Cutting Family understood that.

That’s why they got them for her.

So at least now Daisy had a couple of friends- which is what her family wanted. Daisy, if they had asked, would have told them she busy for a social life because Daisy was always busy working on her collections.

-like her Bug Collection.

To be specific Daisy had a  Bug Zoo in her bedroom.

Her bugs were in jars and plastic containers and in front of each little cage was a card with their proper scientific names and dietary habits.

Daisy also collected yo-yos that she displayed on her bookshelf and under her bed was Daisy’s Grave Collection- it wasn’t as organized as her bug zoo or her yo-yo collection.

Daisy collected those little candy boxes- the ones that 6 different pieces of chocolate come in. She’d buy a box or two a month, toss the pieces to Tarzan under the porch ( he buried them ) and then she’d take the empty boxes to her bedroom.

What Daisy liked about the boxes were the little pictures of smiling cherubs on the lids.

 It worked for what Daisy put in them.

At least once a month Daisy took the bus to Morning Ridge Cemetery in Duwamish Bay and she’d go from grave to grave snapping petals and leaves from the Grave Flowers.

She always did it in a way that didn’t disturb the arrangements- then she’d take the flowers home, dry them and put them in the little boxes.

Each box was numbered- Daisy had a map of the cemetery in her desk and when she got home she took the numbers and not the names from the Cemetery Map and copied them onto the inside lid of the boxes.

Daisy’s room was full of her collections.

One Summer Mrs Cutting was in her kitchen reading the paper and drinking some juice when she looked down into her glass and saw two drowning flies in her lemonade

She took a deep breath because she was about to yell for Daisy- and how fair was that? There were two black blowflies in her juice and the first words out of Mrs. Cutting’s mouth weren’t going to be “yuck”.

She was about to scream, ” Daisy!”

Instead she took the glass outside and threw the entire mess into the garbage can.

The next day Mrs Cutting found four blowflies in the refrigerator, two in the toilet and instead of yelling ” Daisy” she went to the store and bought some No Pest Traps.

It didn’t work.

In fact, it got worse.

Much worse.

By the third day there was family meeting in the Cutting home that didn’t include Daisy or her cats but did include Tarzan the Dog.

The result of that meeting was Mrs Cutting was sent up to Daisy’s room to see if the newest members of the Cutting Family had something  to do with Daisy’s Collections.

Mrs Cutting took a deep breath and before she knocked she her her daughter-sounding flustered and a little angry- which was something Daisy never did. Daisy never got rattled- so Instead of knocking she put her ear to the door.

” Hey you guys…give those back this minute…I’ve got you …let go of that Potato! Chips you’re next hand it over….come out from under there you two- I mean it.

You guys are in so much trouble”

Mrs. Cutting looked back down the hall and almost called for somebody- anybody to go with her into Daisy’s room.

But this was her daughter- and Mrs Cutting wasn’t about to forget that. To be honest, Daisy wasn’t the type of person you could forget even if you wanted to.

So Mrs Cutting took a deep breath and knocked on Daisy’s door.

From inside of the room came a meow, a couple of hisses and a lot of growling and then she heard a door slam.

Daisy called, ” come on in Mom.”

Daisy’s room didn’t have a few flies buzzing around the way they were in the rest of the house.

There were hundreds of them and when one landed on Daisy’s face and crawled around and flew off without Daisy flinching even once or trying to brush it away Mrs Cutting lost her temper.

” Flies Daisy? You’re collecting flies now? That’s…that’s… Daisy that’s not interesting, that’s just stupid. What were you thinking? Look at your room…look at the rest of the house. Young lady you are in so much trouble!”

Daisy was standing next to her closet door and from the inside Potato and Chips had started to shove their paws out from under the door and were trying to pull it open.

” Let them out Daisy…and answer me, what were you thinking?”

Daisy bit her lip and shrugged.

” What were you thinking Daisy? Answer me or did your cats get your tongue?

” No Mommy, ” Daisy said ” they don’t have my tongue…”

(to my 30 year old daughter- a memory stream exercise) 

You don’t remember when we used to go to the little park, the stage coach park, the Underdog park, Tower Grove Park, the rocket ship park…You don’t remember the dragonfly that sat on my blouse for 30 minutes while you and your brother played on the swings and jungle gym.

You don’t remember when I brought a bucket of snow upstairs into our apartment so you could color it with food coloring, because there were rusty nails in the city yard we shared and it wasn’t safe to let you play outside.

You don’t remember when we got caught in the rain walking home, you in the stroller and Dave on my back, wearing silly hats we’d just bought at a yard sale.

You don’t remember when we went to the fruit and vegetable market every Sat. and smelled the harvest apples and the spices and the cheese and the live chickens.

You don’t remember when we went to the dairy ice cream parlor for turtle sundaes, rich with hot fudge and caramel and pecans and real vanilla bean ice cream.

You don’t remember when you and your playmates stomped around the kitchen to Disney songs, until the landlord called up and asked if I had a herd of elephants running loose upstairs.

You don’t remember how we made bread from scratch and every day I fed you and your brother and then let you take a “swim” in the kiddie pool on the tiny balcony, so you could get washed off before I put you down for your naps.

You don’t remember how you ruled the roost from your baby bed, waking up, ready for action, saying, “All right, guys…”

You don’t remember how damn hot it was and we didn’t have air conditioning and we could hardly sleep at all.

You don’t remember how poor we were or how depressed I was – I hope.

kvwordsmith (c) 2008

This is not a poem

it is not a tapestry.

It’s a memory

That’s all

When I was about 10 I asked my Mom if she thought it would be a good idea if I gave her a Christmas list- Why not she said- so I pulled my list from behind my back and handed it to her.

Under the heading ” Anita’s Christmas List ” was one line: 

” I don’t want Barbie dolls, I hate Barbie Dolls please don’t give me Barbie Dolls”

Anita

My Mom was used to my weirdness, I think she just put herself in a happy place and for as far as her mind’s eye could see I was but a dot on the horizon…. a dot that was too far away to actually be heard and if I by some weird twist of fate itcould be heard- in that happy place in her head I was someone else’s kid.

” That’s not helpful…. what do you want for Christmas?”

 ” Anything? ” I asked.

The look on her face answered my question, so I took the list back turned it over and wrote two things:

Please give me a tape recorder and a hat.

Anita

She glanced down at the list and looked at me and said…” what kind of hat?”

Oh. I want a hat like Karl Kolchak has, and I need a tape recorder so I can interview people about-”

” Monsters.” we said at the same time.

I was smiling my Mother was not.

” How’s about I get the hat then? Mom, I really need these things. They’re important. I’m going to write about monsters when I grow up- really! So please, please get me this stuff.”

My Mom lit up a cigarette and took a long hard drag on it-, which was never a good sign so I said, ” Okay fine, I want a bike. A stupid bike. Just like the kind Bonnie…”

My Mom started to walk away and I followed her saying, ” and Shelly and Janet and Darryl and Kimberly and Lita (at this point I just started to make up names) are getting.”

She never turned around, she just walked into her bedroom with me following her barking out these names and then she shut the door on my face.

Wow, I remember thinking, I may have gone to far this time.

So I was not a happy kid leading up to Christmas.

One evening I saw my dad bring in those long boxes that bikes come in and I heard him putting it together.

At this point I knew I was being a brat and believe it or not I was starting to feel really bad- bad enough that my stomach hurt.

To make it worse something with the bike assembly wasn’t going well, my dad was getting discouraged so his cousin came over and they put together my bike and my brother’s bike.

After awhile they started to laugh and it sounded like they were having a good time.

The lucky dogs. 

I sat in my room drawing smiley faces with vampire fangs on the wall inside of my closet with my new box of neon crayons and listened to one comment after another about what a weird kid I was…” What is it with her and those monsters?” someone said.

Well, I wished I knew- instead I just sat there with my neon Smiley Face Vampires and cried.

That night we watched those Christmas cartoons and my parents wrapped some stuff to take to our Grandparent’s house and as I walked back to bed someone said “Merry Christmas. “

I think it was my Dad.

I didn’t answer.

So the next morning my brother and sister try to get me out of bed and I just didn’t want to open my eyes.

I felt awful.

My efforts to become a reporter in search of monster stories had been thwarted- instead of getting the tape recorder and hat I was going to get a bike and I was willing to bet my life I’d get a Barbie Doll too.

So I walk out into the living room and there’s my new bike, there are the three skinny boxes that only Barbies come in and lots of other nifty things that would probably appeal to me later and in one box were three yo-yos.

Score.

They were Purple, Orange and Green.

The Orange one had a Sun decal on it

Promising I told myself.

Not that I was going to let on that I was actually pretty thrilled.

So as my brother and sister settled down to play with their loot I stayed on the couch with my yo-yos and mindlessly ate Christmas Candy from my stocking and looked at my new bike.

It wasn’t bad looking as far as bikes went.

It was lime green, it had a gearshift and handbrakes and along the frame were tiny white daisies.

 I reached out and poked at it with the big toe on my right foot.

It tipped over.

Whoops.

 I got up and when I lifted it off the ground it hit me…this was my bike. I could go anywhere on it- I could ride to the woods (where my friends and I were building a fort) I could ride to Darryl’s house and we could ride over to the cemetery in the next town and look for the Witch’s Grave.

YES!

I had a bike.

So I go into my room dive into some clothes and put on my black rain boots and head out the front door- and just as I hit the street it started to snow.

Oh boy.

I hopped on and I was gone for almost two hours.

When I got home I had a bruised knee a huge bump on the back of my head and I’d sprained my ankle because at the age of 10 I had not yet mastered the art of riding a bike on ice and snow.

I was also covered from head to toe in Chicken Pox.

Oh.

In case you’re curious.

It was a great New Years too.

The Nightstalker

Kolchak: The Night Stalker was a television series that aired on ABC in 1974 about a newspaper reporter—Carl Kolchak, played by Darren McGavin—who investigates crimes with mysterious and unlikely causes that the proper authorities won’t accept or pursue.