And He Hated Me for Good Reason...

Have you ever had something so monumentally horrific happen that you didn't think you would ever be able to face the light of day again? Something that made you want to curl into a fetal position, suck your thumb, and make weird mewing sounds for at least a month (bare minimum, depending on the severity.. it could have been for a year)? That's happened to me on at least.. oh.. rough estimate.. a gazillion times in my short 28 years of life. But one time that has been hanging out in my mind today was the one that banned me from Shell's house for an indeterminate timespan. It couldn't have been too awfully long, I think this incident occurred when I was 11 and she was 10, and by the time I was 12 we were hanging out together again.

Anywho, on with the story. Shell's dad held the most hatred for me ever after he left me and Shell alone in the house on one rainy day. Extreme boredom must have set in on that particular day. Something hung in the air that left a feeling of "something bad is coming this way" in my mouth from the moment that we bored with her massive collection of Barbie's®, their paraphernalia and all, which took up a good portion of her bedroom. The idea of dressing up was tossed aside as quickly as it was mentioned, it was a muggy day and constant changing just didn't meet the requirements for pre-pubescent sweat free fun.

We roamed upstairs for a bit, there was a nice little niche at the top of the stairs that contained only one room on the entire second floor of their quaint little abode. It was a great place for the gaming console revolution at that time. Shell owned a most coveted Nintendo®, something I could never fathom having in all of my childish dreams. And not only did she own the Nintendo®, she also had the gaming mat that went with it. Endless days of our younger years were spent in this room, running and jumping along to the modern technology of the late 80's, early 90's. Summer sweat would pour off us in gallons during vacation, and during the winter we would warm ourselves with that same type of sweat after a bitter cold walk home from school. Life was grand in that second floor room...

Until this particular day when Barbie®, with her perky plastic boobs and equally perky plastic booty, couldn't hold our interest for more than 5 minutes. I should have known that disaster lay ahead at that precise moment, Shell and I could Barbie® it up for hours on any given day. If Barbie® couldn't make me a happy child, you can bet your happy little ass that Nintendo® wasn't going to fill the bill either. Shell and I had an indescribable and unspoken itch that neither of us could lay a finger on. Until Shell suggested that we go treasure hunting in her attic. On the second floor. Next to the awesome little niche that held so many fond memories for me.

I was completely game. The two of us were always up for something new, and we had only been in her attic on maybe one occasion before this day. We imagined finding something so awesomely rad in that attic, that our afternoon would be filled with delight that was thus far unmatched in our young years.

Shell went first, walking steadily into the attic without a care in the world. She turned to the left, and out of my line of sight, so I readily followed behind her. I should have turned around and headed for home right that very minute. But, I lacked common sense at that age. Well, I still do, but that is besides the point. That day, I was a ball of curiosity that needed untangling.

I turned to the left, and started to head back towards the wall that was on the same end of the attic as the door that we had entered through. Shell was already at the wall, digging into boxes and moving things around without a care. She never even looked my way, so I figured that she was on a mission and I had better join her immediately so we could find an adventure on this rainy day.

Without missing a beat, I started towards Shell, weaving around boxes and clutter as I went. I was nearly close enough to touch her when the world beneath me seemed to disappear.

This is the point where I wish that I could tell you that Shell had found an ancient book, opened it, and transported us to a world of fantasy. Or, that I could tell you that somehow a black hole to nothingness opened up, a rip in time, and that I was sucked into it. Best yet, I wish that I could tell you it was a warp zone from Mario Brothers®, and that I was being summonsed to join the funky little spaghetti eating Italian plumbers to help them vanquish evil and rescue Princess Toadstool. I really, really, really wish I could tell you any of these. But, I cannot, and must plow ahead with the painful memory of what really happened on that day.

Just as quickly as the floor disappeared, something solid reappeared under me like lightning. There was nary a nanosecond between the two, just enough for me to realize that something had occurred. Oh yes, something indeed had occurred. Something that had me wanting to puke in fear the moment I realized what had happened.

The first thing I noticed, right off the bat, was that my hand was dangling into one of these...
Somehow, miraculously, magically, a sink had appeared in Shell's attic! But, wait, my leg was dangling into something too, at an oddly spread eagled disadvantage point. My eyes could not believe what they were seeing! My right leg was dangling into this while my left hand was fluttering into that above.My mind reached out in a million different directions all at once as it tried to piece together what was happening. It raced faster than it ever had as it tried to put this puzzle together, and in its heightened state of wtf-ness, nothing was coming together. As I tried to still my racing brain and bongo-drum-beating heart, I noticed that my tush was wet. And getting much wetter by the second. I swiveled my head down my body, and found my booty sitting in here while my leg dangled in this and my hand fluttered around in that.
My 11 year old ass was crack deep in tidy-bowl cleaner. Now, imagine if you will, the hand fluttering in the sink, the leg dangling in the tub, and the ass bathing in the toilet. And the bewildered look on my face that put the icing on the commode cake.I could hear Shell yelling from somewhere not too far away, but for the life of me I couldn't see her. Then, I could hear the furious pounding of feet on stairs. My first thought was that Shell was running off to leave me in the wonderful la la land of attic. As my brain started to slow down, I took stock of what was going on around me. And realized, with dawning horror, that I was in Shell's bathroom. It was her sink, her tub, her commode that my body was casually lounging in. But how on earth had it transported to the attic?? One final look around, and I was greeted with the following sight, and everything fell into place immediately.This hole right here depicts almost the same view I was looking up at almost 17 years ago. This was the black hole that transported me from the attic, and into Shell's bathroom. As she rushed up to the bathroom door, she was chanting "Oh no, Dad's gonna kill me. Oh no, Dad's gonna kill me. Oh no.. Da... Oh wow! Are you ok?" It took her a couple of seconds to register that not only was there a gaping hole leading from the attic to the basement, but that I may have injured myself during the very short trip.

I managed to disentangle my limbs from her bathroom facilities, and slowly stood, testing every muscle, joint, and bone to make sure that all was in working order. As we surveyed the damage, her father returns home and walks in to find me with a soaked ass, standing in his bathroom doorway, and gazing at the heavens.

You know how when someone is angry on the old cartoons, their face turns red and steam comes from their ears? This is the only time in my life that I have nearly seen it almost replicated for real. Being the church going man that her father was, he didn't curse at me like any other parent would have. But he ranted, and he raved, and he banished me from their house. And from Shell. And told me that I was a bad egg, and a bad influence. He sent me home crying, fearing my parents worse than I feared him, for he had vowed to call them and demand that they pay for the damage.

As far as I know, he didn't demand payment, and he had it fixed the next time I happened to be there (which, like I said, was in under a year but I can't remember just how long it was). The man never much cared for me all along, and that incident topped it all off. Even though I was allowed to hang with Shell again, his opinion of me never changed and he was very leery of allowing me in his home when he wasn't scrutinizing my every move.

I run into him from time to time, now that Shell and I are all grown up and have families of our own. Amazingly? This man strikes up a conversation with me every damned time, as if I have never fallen through his ceiling and cost him unexpected expenses. Maybe it's Alzheimer's, or Parkinsons', that is causing his memory lapse. Or, maybe I've changed and he has seen that I'm really a great person now.

On second thought, it must be Alzheimer's or Parkinsons', 'cuz I ain't changed one damned bit!!