I was born on June 8th 1962 in Broadhurst, Nevada. I came from what I guess could be called a normal family. I had a Mother, Father and an older Brother. We had a dog and two cats. Mom use to have a bird; that was before I was born and old Ned the cat took care of getting rid of the bird. Mom talked about the bird like it was a sister of ours. So pretty this, so smart that. Anytime Ned did anything to draw attention to him, Mom would jump into telling the story of her precious bird getting killed. Dad would try to side track her a couple times and then he’d just roll his eyes and leave the room. My brother and I were prisoners to the story and had no means of escape. I’ve heard the story thousands of times and it was abundantly clear to me that she loved that bird much more than me. I use to lie in bed at night and dream about killing that fucking bird. I’d move oh so slowly, creeping without a sound, closer and closer until I could get my hands around the little fucker’s neck. But he was already gone so I did the next best thing and wrung Ol’ Ned's neck. I ran all the way home one day knowing that Mom wouldn’t be home and Dad at work. He was an old cat but he put up one hell of a fight when he realized that I wasn’t just petting him and my fingers closed the fur bags air off. I’d been scratched enough times that I knew good and well to approach this job from behind. Slowly stroking his fur and then crossing my thumbs behind his neck I wrapped my fingers around and squeezed for all I was worth. I shook him like I’d seen Mom so many times shake out the front door rug.
I learned a very good life’s lesson with that old cat; you never want to leave your workings just laying around after all the fun is over.
When Mom found that cat all hell broke loose. I think Dad was happy to have the damn thing gone but he wouldn’t say anything if his ass was on fire. Mom ran the house hold and arguing about it was a waste of time. Since I was found to be the perpetrator of the crime I got stuck with burying the damn cat. I picked a spot in the flower beds where I was sure Mom would be digging this next spring planting the darling bulbs she was so fond of. Deep enough that the dog wouldn’t dig him up but shallow enough for a little surprise this next planting season. Mr. Ned went into his hole almost as it was meant to be.
Fall went to winter and spring is well on its way. I watched the seasons pass slowly waiting for the hint of blossoms on the trees. The heavy rain changed to showers and the ground slowly began to dry. I knew it was almost time. One Saturday morning I watched from my upstairs window as the garden tools came out of the shed, finally planting time had arrived.
The screams coming from the side yard were a blessing to my ears. Vengeance be mine, payback time has arrived. The screams and cries lasted only a very short time? This wasn’t half of what I was expecting. Straining to hear I decided to go have a look and see why my victory songs were cut so short. Leaving the house from the back door I walked with purpose around the corner and laying on the grass next to the secret spot was my mother. Even standing where I was I could clearly see half of good Ol’ Mr. Ned laying half way out of his hole. Mother’s spade was still sticking out of his decayed side after she wrenched him from the shallow grave. I could feel the pressure building as I stood there looking at the wrecked cat and Mother out cold on the lawn. It started as a giggle and soon turned into a full grand maul laughing fit. Falling on the grass and rolling into a ball in fits of uncontrolled glee I nearly peed my pants. Gasping for air I crawled the few feet to her side and rolled her over. Sticking straight from her mid ribs was the weed puller; the one with the little “V” at the end, sharp as hell and she was quite dead.
I used her gardening tools and buried Ned a good distance deeper than he had been, covered him up leaving a small area still dung as if ready for the bulbs laying nearby.
The Police said it was a tragic accident and it was; kind of.
Finishing High School and starting College I’ve decided on Medicine for my life’s work, particularly the field of forensic pathology, I’m a natural.
From the Ramblings