Then there was the other time I tried to kill Mickey.

Now, he's 5 years old. We are buddies. He follows me around more than my own shadow does. I've taught him how to check the oil and water in the cars, how to patch a roof, how to operate the riding mower and other manly things. We are two peas in a pod. He has forgiven me for trying to kill him with the pistol two years ago.

One day, we dropped Memaw's car off at the car repair shop. It was a Thursday. My mechanic said it would be ready on Friday. Mickey was only serving half a day in kindergarten, as was the Alabama rule.

So, Friday, we packed up in my truck (the kids were little then, so we could all fit in there), and headed to the repair shop. Sure enough, Memaw's car is ready as promised, I paid the man for a job well done, and we decide who is riding home with who.

Mickey, of course, being my little buddy, wants to ride home with me. His little sister is Memaw's shadow, so she opts to ride with her...smart kid.

Memaw goes first, I pull out behind her. Things are commencing wonderfully.

Mickey and I are waving and making funny faces at Memaw and Haley, my daughter.

We're coasting down highway 43 and all is well with the world. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining bright, I have my little son in the truck cab with me...what could ever ruin this kind of day?



We are almost home. We are passing the school where Mickey attends kindergarten, and Haley will next year. I graduated from that very school. Makes a mother proud.

Anyway, we are rolling along. Mickey and I are singing those cute little songs you learn in kindergarten. Itsy, Bitsy Spider...I'm a Little Teapot...you name it, we sang it.

Now, there's a road that turns off to the right just past the school. Usually, that's not a problem. This particular day though...

Methuselah was on the highway, same day...same time.

He turns right. No signal. No nothing. He's one of those drivers that thinks he's the only one on the road. He stops first...then turns. There's no friggin' stop sign on the highway, but he STOPS first...THEN he turns.

The car in front of Memaw comes to a screeching halt. Memaw comes to a screeching halt.

Mickey and I are singing "Three Little Ducks" very loudly. We are still caught up in the euphoria of the day. I glance down at his sweet little face, just for a nano second and that's all it required.

I looked up, and all I saw was...TRUNK...TRUNK...TRUNK.

I hit my brakes.

I can't go left, because cars are coming at us in that direction. I can't stop, because I'm going too fast for that.

55 mph is not too fast for highway speed, but it is when you have to stop on a dime, because some old coot is oblivious to the traffic around him!

Since I obviously can't turn left and pass everyone...I have to go right and hope for the best.

We're smack in front of the school, where there is a gaping, yawling, threatening ditch.

Off we go into it. BUMPITY, BUMPITY, BUMPITY BUMP!!!!!!



I've got both white-knuckled hands glued to the steering wheel. My glasses literally flew off my head. Mickey has one little hand on the dash, the other little hand on the back of the seat and he's screaming..."AHHHHHHHH----AHHHHHHHH---AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

Finally, after what seemed like eternity and then some, we hit a concrete drainage pipe, and stopped.

Mickey is still screaming. I'm searching frantically for my glasses. I can't see a damn thing! Mickey undoes his seatbelt and is on his way to getting the hell outa there!!!!

"Wait Mickey" says I, "It's okay now." He looks at me almost disbelievingly, but he trusts me anyway. I don't know why after that pistol episode, but he does.

I finally locate the stupid glasses under the passengers seat...go figure, put them on and then I see it.

Mickey and I are in the ditch, in front of the school. There is a family owned restaurant across the road, and a convenience store on the other side. Not to mention the school.

As we are getting our wits together...people literally POURED out of the convenience store, the restaurant, and the school. I didn't know that there were this many people in the WORLD! Where the hell did they all come from??? Good God! Is that Elvis??? He saw it too???

Being a modest and private type of soul, I put the truck in reverse and prayed to the good Lord above, (and just in case) any other entity that might be listening, to please let my old truck pull through, and get us out of this ditch. Otherwise, I'll have to call a tow truck. That means waiting. Amongst all these rubberneckers. Yes, rubberneckers. By now, they know that no one is hurt. They're just plain nosey. I do not want to tell my story a gazillion times. "I couldn't help it! I was singing "Three Little Ducks" with my son, when all of the sudden...WHAM!

By the way, the old geezer that started all this, made his right turn and chugged along his way. Totally and blissfully unaware of all that occurred in his aftermath.

I get it together, turn the key in the ignition, with one last prayer to the mechanial gods above, and lo, and behold! The truck cranks up!
I back up a bit, turn right, ease forward, and up the embankment Mickey and I go.

We pass the nosey onlookers, I give the signal to Memaw, and off we go home.

That was the second time that I tried to kill Mickey. I don't now why, but the kid still likes me.

What a sucker...

Then there was the time...

When I tried to kill Mickey. Actually there were two times.
First things first.

Mickey was almost 3 years old. And as a 3 year old boy, he was acting like a 3 year old boy. My nerves were shot. It got to the point where his just walking into the room made my blood boil.

There we were. Memaw was in her recliner going through her lock box, and I was trying to watch Jerry Springer. Noise, noise noise.

"Mickey! Pipe down! I can't hear what this transexual is yelling
about!"

That does it. I called him in the room to give him a piece of my mind. Looking back...duh.

I was, at the time about 30 years old, and I'm going to deliver a sermon to a 3 year old. I should've been talking to a bag of groceries. It would've comprehended much better.

Anyway, he ambles into the room.

"Mickey," says I, "if you don't settle down...I swear to the toddler gods above that I will personally KILL you!"

About that time, Memaw comes across her pistol. It just shoots blanks.
She says, "If you're going to kill the boy, then you'll need this."
And she hands me the pistol.

I didn't even know that she owned the damn thing. I took it greedily from her hand, and pointed it at Mickey. Square in the face.

Now, mind you, I thought it was a toy. I really did. Although, had it turned out differently, I don't think there's a cop or a judge in the world that would've believed me.

"Now, behave yourself, or so help me...I'll shoot!"

That little fart looked me straight in the eye and grinned. He GRINNED. I double dawg dare you, that little face was telling me. He didn't say a word, but I heard him loud and clear.

(I guess he thought that was a toy gun too).

Anyway, I says..."Okay boy...you asked for it."

POW!



God! What a noise! Smoke was billowing from the barrel of that pistol!
I uttered some unprintable expletive and dropped the gun! Memaw screamed and snatched it up! Mickey put his hands upon both ears, did this weird little dance, and flew into Memaws' lap.

We're all in shock.
Memaw screams, "Are you crazy?"
I scream, "What the hell kind of toy is that!!!???"
Mickey is just screaming..."AAAAAHHHHHHHH"
His little sister (15 months old)is standing there with this incredible look of wonder on her sweet, little face.

Mickey is bawling and staring at me like I'm that monster that hides under his bed at night. He's clinging to Memaw for his very life!

I'm still in shock myself! "I thought you handed me a toy gun! What the hell, and WHERE the hell did you get that thing????"

Turns out, my brother bought her that pistol when she was living alone. The theory was that if an intruder should break in, she should shoot that thing at him, he'll freak, and run off.

Good idea. But never...EVER hand that thing to an adult that's pissed off at a 3 year old. Things could get hairy.

It was a good 6 hours before Mickey would even talk to me again. I tried, believe me, I tried. I sweet talked him. I offered him cookies. Ice cream. His favorite...Wheat Thins. Still, no go.
6 hours later, it hit me. I'll play Nintendo. He cannot resist that. It worked. He idled up to me softly...still not fully trusting me...and picked up the other controller.

We played Super Mario for about 2 hours. He saved the princess.


I've had that game for 2 frickin' years, and HE saved the princess.

A three year old saved the damn princess! A three year old! A THREE YEAR OLD!!!!!

"Memaw? Where's that damn pistol???"

I ain't played that stupid game since. May it rot in hell...

Then there was the time...
When Mickey's son was born. In late February, the 26th, to be exact, little Adam was born. We'd been waiting on him for quite a long time.
His original due date was the 8th of March, but 2 young people, who've never been through this before, made a thousand trips to the hospital, thinking this was it. The doctors and nurses are on a first name basis with my son and his wife.
If Jenny farted cross-wise...it must be a labor pain! She wet her pants and thought her water broke. I'm sorry, Honey, but when your water breaks...there be no mistake what has occurred. You will know it!
But, alas, you can't tell these kids anything. They know it all. A wet spot in the panties. My water broke! Get me to the hospital quick! I refuse to have this child in a car!
After long hours of tests and more tests...she was given a sleeping pill and sent home. Baby isn't ready yet...and truly, who can blame him?
He is a child being born to children. Mickey is 18 and Jenny is 19. They are sweet kids, but dumb as a fence post. They know how to make a baby for sure, but taking care of one???? What? You have to get up at night to feed it? You have to change a stinky diaper? It spits up? It cries? That didn't happen in school, where I could just flip a switch and turn the damn thing off. Where is this kids' switch??? Where is it? I can't shut this thing up! Damn! It puked again! Maaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!
Sorry boy. You're on your own this time.
I am now a granny. My job is to love the baby, spoil the baby, slobber on the baby, and soon as he gets mean or smelly...hand him back to daddy. "Here. Your son needs you. Call me when he is smelling better."
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled that the baby is here. He's gorgeous. He has a little blonde patch of hair at the top of his head. He gets grumpy when his big-mouthed daddy talks too loud when he's trying to sleep. He wants a bottle pretty much every 3 hours...continually, and he lets everybody know if he doesn't get it. I don't know where he inherited those lungs.

When my son was like, 10 years old, I tried to explain the facts of life to him. I'm almost sure I told him what makes a baby. I must have left something out. He came home one day and told me that Jenny was pregnant. "Well," says I, "your childhood is now OVER!!!! No more cd's. No more playstation. No more whatever it is you wanted to spend your paycheck on. From now on, it'll be diapers, formula, baby clothes, gerbers and Dr. Spock.
Didn't you listen to anything I tried to tell you when you were ten???"
Any of you who have children, know exactly what I'm talking about. Mickey knows everything, and his sister knows the rest. I'm just an old fart, senile at 45 and out of her mind. I have no idea about the world today. From babies to politics, I'm a dinosaur. I think so far in the past, that my brain has formed cobwebs.
I don't know how to raise a child these days, I don't understand the catastrophic problems of todays' teenager, I'm an idiot for wanting a woman to be president, and last, but certainly not least, these little shits are telling ME how to drive!!! You can't do this and you should've done that. I've been driving for 30 years...and THEY are giving ME pointers?????
What the hell is in the water these days??? I didn't raise these self-righteous little poops! I taught them respect and tolerance. Where did THAT go? Pissed away with all the other crap! I remember the days when I was a teenager. I would never have dreamed of telling MY mother that she was wrong. Even when she was. Seldom that happened, but it DID happen. Still, I didn't dare contest her authority. Kids today think you are their equals. If they, in their warped little teenaged minds, think you are wrong, they do not hesitate in telling you so.
All I can say is that now Mickey has a young-un of his very own. And I cannot wait for the first time that Adam tells Mickey that he is a dinosaur like me. I will laugh my old ass off, and start calling Mickey..."Rex". Someday, in just a few short years, Adam will know way more than Mickey, and then...maybe then, Mickey will see the world from my corner. He'll think...wow. I should've listened to her. .............

Nah......

And then there was the time when I first arrived at Lackland Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas.
We were all on the bus. We were loaded up at the airport where we had already taken lots of abuse by these strange men and women in pretty blue uniforms. As we were exiting the bus, we were called everything from dirty laundry bags to shitheads.
What in the hell did I ever do to these people to deserve this kind of treatment? They don't even freakin' know me! How can they treat me like this???? Oh, my gawd, I had alot to learn!
We arrived at the base at around 1:00 am.
We were tired, stiff, nervous and downright worn out. We had spent the day getting physicals, switching from plane to plane, and just simply trying to look alive when we finally got to Fantasy Island.
Well, here we are. Fantasy Island.
We are standing out there on the "Flight Pad", with our suitcases by our side...in which locating them is a story in itself...just waiting for the sheer terror we know is on its way.
My sheer terror showed up about 30 minutes later, in the form of a slim, good-looking black woman by the name of SSGT Williams.
She stood about 5'5" tall, maybe about 110 lbs, and scary as hell itself.
First thing she said was..."Jesus Christ. What in the hell did they send me this time?"
There we stand. Tired, worn out. Does she care? Not just no, but HELL no!
She tells us she is going to do roll call. We are to answer "Here, Ma'am" when we hear our name and not a damn thing more. Names and names go by, and finally I hear my own. I yell "Here Ma'am" as instructed. For some unkwon reason, she doesn't hear me. She yells my name again. I shout a little louder..."Here Ma'am!"
This is all it takes to completely ruin her night. She marches right over to where I am standing, gets so close to my face that I swear I can see the pores on her nose, and SCREAMS..."Where are you from?????"
I reply, loudly, "Ma'am, I'm from Alabama, Ma'am!"
She replies..."Did you come all the way from Alabama just to piss me off????"
"No Ma'am," says I! God, this is one scary ass woman!
Once roll call is complete, they decide they are going to torture us for a bit. "Pick up those damn suitcases." We obediently do as instructed. "Put them down." Again, we do as instructed. "Pick them up!" "Put them down." "Pick them up!" Put them down!" Oh my Gawd! My arm is getting numb!!!!!
Finally they finish with their game. Now it's time to head for the barracks. Our home for the next 6 weeks. "Get your flabby asses in the showers!" Oh God! I gotta shower with 50 other women. I've never shown my naked body to a woman before! I am so embarrassed! But that constant yelling and cussing gets my big butt in gear. Off come the clothes and into the shower I go! There are at least 50 women in my flight. There are 8 shower heads. There we stand, buck naked, 5 or 6 of us, trying to get a decent shower. All the while, the Dragon Lady is standing there...watching us. She's in full uniform. We're in our birthday suits. And she's standing there, leaning against the bathroom wall, arms crossed, scowl on her face...watching.
"Hurry up and get your asses to bed!" She screams. Getting a shower that was so short, I'm not even sure it was a shower, I got my ass to bed...as instructed.
Surprisingly, I fell asleep rather quickly. I was completely in La-La Land when that familiar, loud, scary voice screamed once again..."Get your flabby asses in the showers!"
The rest of our "flight" had arrived. It was now 4:00 am. She's screaming at them, like she screamed at us. We are all awake and trembling under our blankies.
There she is again. Leaning against the bathroom wall, watching 50 other women trying to get a decent shower, crowded under one shower head, 6 or 7 women each.
I think the funniest thing I ever heard in basic training was when she bellowed at those ladies..."Hurry up, and don't you dare wake up my airmen!!!!!" Like we weren't awake and hearing the whole episode!
"Don't you DARE wake up my airmen." Hee hee!
Anyway, the weeks trudged on, and she seemingly forgot about me. The dolt that came all the way from Alabama just to piss her off.
I was doing fine. She never yelled at me. She never even knew I existed...until...that fateful day.
We were marching somewhere. I don't recall where. Doesn't matter anyway.
"Baker!!!!! Cup your fingers!!!!!"
What is she talking about? My fingers ARE cupped!
"Baker! Cup your God damn fingers!!!!!!"
Damn! The fingers won't cup any more than they are now! What is her friggin' problem??? I can see my fingernails thorugh the back of my freakin' hands!!!! They are so cupped a roll of quarters wouldn't slip through!
"FLIGHT HALT!!!!" She stopped the whole flight. She ran up to the third rank and screamed at Airman Savoie, "Cup your Goddamned fingers!!!! What the hell is wrong with you??????!!!!"
Then she stopped, looked kind of puzzled, and said..."You're not Baker. Who the hell are you?"
Ma'am, I'm Airman Savoie" she replies.
"Airman Savoie...cup your god damned fingers!!!" Says the good sargeant.
Meanwhile, there stands Airman Baker, two ranks back, fingers so cupped that there's blood dripping on the pavement, wondering what in the hell have I gotten myself into?
Anyway, after weeks of torture and abuse, we all (almost) made it through. A few ladies got demoted and sent back to a later flight...God bless 'em. 6 weeks was all I could stand. Any more than that...oh jeeeezz! God bless 'em.
Finally, as we were heading out of Lackland, on our way to various tech schools, the bus driver played "On Top of the World" by the Carpenters. Never has a song fit so good with a situation than that!

Despite myself, I loved basic training. I met some dear friends that I still keep in touch with. It's been almost 25 years now, and those ladies are still in my life!'

Off we go, into the wild blue yonder,
Flying high, into the sun!

Then there was the time when we took a family vacation to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. There are a million things to do there. Museums, rides, shopping, food, an aquarium; you name it, it's there.
We decided to enter a haunted house. Now, mind you, we thought we were entering a real haunted house. Turns out it was one of those staged things.
Anyway...we pay the admission price, get into the elevator, and Lawd, have mercy, we are on our way!!!

There are at least a dozen of us, on that elevator. We are slowly inching upward...to God knows what. While we are taking our slow, painful ride, Mickey shoots me an "I don't like this" look. I shoot him an "uh-oh--I can't do anything about it" look. We are soooo trapped. The elevator is moving, and I can't stop it...you are so screwed!!!

At the top floor, there is this man in a white shirt, black pants, black vest and very scary, mascara covered eyes waiting for us. As the elevator "cage" reaches the top, he slowly looks us up and down and all around. He gets this sneer on his face and actually "Welcomes" us!

When the elevator stops, he orders us all onto the top floor. We file out, and line up just as instructed to do so. We wouldn't dare otherwise!

He orders us to turn to our right and take hold of the shoulder in front of us. We will not be able to see, and the shoulder we are grasping will be our only guide. He was NOT kidding! I couldn't see a damn thing! Not at first.

The order went...Mickey, Memaw, Haley then me. We slowly moved along through the dark, dark darkness. We heard screeches...arms came out of the walls and grabbed at us...horrific scenes materialized right before our very eyes!

A mad scientist had just cut a liver out of some poor sucker and threw the damn thing at us!

There is a crazy lady in a straight jacket, begging us to set her free! There's blood on it! BLOOD! And we're supposed to let her free???

There is a man with a scalpel. He has an asian woman strapped to a chair...oh my gawd...what is he doing to her???? Move it, move it! I can't take anymore!!!

Suddenly, I hear a loud, audible rip. It sounds like clothing tearing. What is that? That's not so scary.

After all the blood and gore we've witnessed so far, how can the sound of ripping cloth scare me? How?

Let me tell you how! Mickey, who was at the front of our family line, is suddenly stuck to my ass! He is so close, that any closer, he would be in front of me!!

Turns out that the asian woman and the scalpel scared him so bad, that he somehow ripped the jacket of the man in front of him.

Don't worry, boy, it's so dark in here, that man won't ever be able to know who ripped his jacket!

On we go. Feels like bugs on my legs. Oh Gawd, why didn't I wear jeans today???

Now, about half way through, the new order is Memaw, Haley, me and then Mickey. It's dark as all git-out. Suddenly, that woman in the straight jacket is loose!!!! How the hell did that happen????

Now, I mentioned that there were at least a dozen of us in that line. Well, this crazy lady zeroed in on Haley! She bent over forwards, talking about how she liked little children. Out of nowhere, she let off a blood curdling scream. AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Now, Haley is bent over backwards. She delivers an equally terrifying screech. AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

And so it goes for a full five minutes, backwards and forwards, in each other's face, AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!! AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!

It was scary and funny as shit at the same time! Do I protect my daughter, or do I stand here and laugh like a maniac? After literally seconds of contemplating, I stood there and laughed!!

I couldn't help it. It was so funny!!!!



That crazy lady bent forwards, all in Haley's face. Haley bent backwards, as much OUT of the crazy lady's face as possible, and they were taking turns SCREAMING in each others' face. AAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!! AAARRRRGGGGHHH!!!

Finally, the orderly (or whatever), came along and shooed the crazy lady back to her cage.

Thank God Almighty we are almost through with this mess!

I see sunlight!!! Honest to goodness sunlight!!!

As we enter the last phase of the torture motel, just as we are reveling in the warm sunshine, we hear a very loud, chainsaw type of roar.

Oh Holy Shit! It is a chainsaw!!

We turn toward the noise, and Pope on his throne! Here's comes Leatherface! And boy, is he pissed!!!

He has this BIG-assed chainsaw and he starts to running after us! He's rushing us!!!! I cannot tolerate that. I HATE to be rushed!!!!
So what did I do?

I ran like hell, and got my big old butt outa there!!!!!

I've seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I was actually ALIVE when it (the true story) happened!

Haley was two steps behind me; Mickey passed our asses like we were taking a Sunday stroll; and Memaw, bless her heart, got a second wind and was on the street waiting for us! Memaw is in her 60's, but that was not even a fleeting thought when a maniac with a chainsaw was in hot pursuit! She left our tails behind with a brief prayer that we make it out alive! I saw the smoke she left behind her!!! I saw it!!! Age has no advantage on fear! None!

Finally, we all met on the street, panting, heaving, and sweating; and strolled off to our hotel room to recuperate.

It's been 6 years, and I still have nightmares about chainsaws!!!