Friday, March 1, 2013

Did a Girl Ever Bully You?

The baddest girl in our neighborhood in 1956 was Doris Iscrigg. Doris wanted to fight all young men!

Brother Wayne and I would slither through small town allies to school – hide behind dumpsters and milk cans property of Shannon's diary. You could count the grease balls covering exits from all sides - this was truly Sharks and Jets shit!

Brother Wayne and I were quick becoming track stars with no team bidding for our services. Doris was like a giant piranha floating around the hood ready to attack. 

I never really had much to say to Doris other than, ‘I’m on my way to bible school,’ some kind of cop out plea to keep her from attacking.

Doris would yell shit – in fact you’d just see her jaw wiggle, eyes flare and you knew she was hunting young man flesh.I was ten at the time and weighed my age.

I mostly skated by and watched her knock the lights out of guys. Most would roll on the ground while she punched and kicked.
I didn’t really know much about her other than she was pissed about something when one day she shows up in our front yard looking to do fight business.

Pops positioned his beloved cabin cruiser up on stilts trying his best to seal three hundred faulty leaks. The old man loved this woody and spent hours trying to bring it up to floating standards. The craft smelled like the last voyage of Sinbad.

I’m doing what I always did with Brother Wayne – scooping water. How the hell did we end up on dry land doing what we did over water I’ll never know? Maybe we were scraping too.

July summer is knocking the wind out of us and sweat fills the same Maxwell House coffee cans we dip water with when I hear – “Come down here King boy – I’m going to kill you.”

Talk about a message from the undead. “I’m speaking to you King boy.”

Fuck me!

Brother Wayne looked on like I had a serious problem – none of his concern besides he was up high enough to jump to a nearby tree.

Pops looks down and sees this scrawny fourteen year old in her summer dress and nasty face and says to me – ‘Take care of her.”

“Take care of her?” I look at him and say – ‘Do you know who that is that’s Doris Iscrigg – mass murderer.” Pops looks at me – ‘Are you scared of a girl?” I’m thinking no boy should go there. Pops next move? He yells, “Bills coming down.”

Before I could run to Nebraska I’m face to face with the devil and she’s about to collect blood.

Doris comes charging at me punching and kicking. We end up on the ground choke holding each other. This goes on what seems an eternity. Remember, I hadn’t picked up a clarinet or played piano yet so I’m defenseless. Doris and I roll about trying to get a serious grip. Somewhere in this tangled mess we start laughing. I mean, boy – girl laughter. We both eventually let go and face each other. She’s got weeds sticking out of her hair, ears, between her teeth and me a dozen unwanted girly scratches. Doris and I call a truce – dad then offers her an opportunity to drop by and scoop water from the boat. That she never did. As the months pass I’d see Doris on the odd occasion but never as adversaries. Then one day she was gone – I’m mean forever gone!

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