The last time we went to the Wal-Mart it wasn’t my fault the man went to the hospital. I was minding my own business in the toys. You told me to stay right there and I listened to you because you had to buy a new dress. You had a date, remember mommy? I don’t know why you don’t want MY daddy anymore. You’ll never meet anyone better.
You know, I always go to the Barbie aisle first. Barbie looks so pretty and she’s not bad. I bet her mommy was jealous of her, too. Princess Barbie always has beautiful clothes and hair and shoes. She knows what Ken likes and she doesn’t get old. He doesn’t leave.
I ran the other kids off and was happy to be alone in the aisle. I found my own sparkling crown near the dolls along with some funny pink high heel shoes with feathers and a magic wand. Well, I thought I was alone, then Bobby, with the scraggly beard and blue vest that said “HOW CAN I HELP YOU?” walked toward me. He was supposed to be sweeping the puke off the floor near cosmetics but he watched me instead. The kids at school made fun of him ’cause he talked funny. He started being real nice to me and told me he wanted to play, too. Whatever, I said. Gawd, he had hair coming out of his ears and he smelled like a skunk. He said he was Prince Charming disguised as a frog and I had to kiss him. Right. He must’ve thought I was a dummy. Boy, was he in for a surprise.
I let him take me in the storeroom, in the dark, but I wasn’t afraid. He said we’d pretend. I guess he thought I would do what he said, but he doesn’t know me very well, does he, mommy? I stomped on his foot with my high heels. He screamed out a bad word, “BITCH,” and grabbed for me. That wasn’t very nice. I had to defend myself like you told me. He hopped around on one foot and tried to grab his broom to knock me over, but I’m smarter and faster than him. I pulled on a shelf as hard as I could and the boxes started falling. I jumped out of the way, quick, like a little rabbit.
Bobby didn’t know I visited the hardware aisle earlier.
Sharp, pointy things appealed to me and you never knew when you might need one. Besides, you took my hammer away, remember mommy, after the incident with Maria?
You remember when my friend from homeroom, Maria, hurt herself in the backyard? She dared me to swing higher in the school playground. Ha, that’s nothing, I said. My legs pumped harder and higher until my head almost touched the ground. She thought she was so much better than me. Yeah, I told her, come over to my house. I bet you can’t beat me. I watched the metal legs of my swing set lift off the ground, as her body swung backward. I knew the swing set wasn’t cemented into the ground like the one at school.
Higher and higher she flew, mommy. “I’ll push you,” I said and I slapped her back and pressed all my weight against her. The front legs of the swing buckled a little then froze in the air like a slow motion cartoon, bucking donkey, hee haw. It was so funny, mommy. I laughed real loud and so did Maria, at least until she realized the whole thing would fall over. The front legs came out of the ground, mommy. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The whole swing set fell back and hit the ground first then Maria slammed into the ground against the twisted metal and chains. She stared up at me, from the mess, eyes wide, mouth shut tight. Red droplets of blood stained the corner of her lip and her left ear. One of the silver chains of the swing wrapped itself around her throat. I guess she learned a valuable lesson. I’m always right.
Anyway, I fingered my new treasure, the screwdriver with the nice blue handle, and pulled it from my pocket. Frog prince Bobby sure looked surprised. He tried to stand and then I lunged at him with my weapon, right between the legs. You’re right, mommy, that’s a very sensitive area ’cause I’ve never heard a sound like the one he made. Oh, my brave little girl, you said and then you slapped me across the face in the car, after the police left and took Bobby away. You hate me and hate men, don’t you, mommy? You blamed me and I didn’t do anything wrong.
Now, I have to sit in the hot car.
The nice lady with the shopping cart came by and she knew you shouldn’t leave me in here. She tried to break the back window first. I guess I could’ve opened the door but it was more fun to watch her try, first with her boot and then with a broomstick. I could’ve told her the stick wouldn’t work. I opened my eyes once, my head against the backseat and she started to cry, all because you left me in here. It was quiet again for a few minutes until the tall parking lot security guard showed up.
You were nowhere to be found, mommy. I played it up, like you taught me. You said men are dumb and you’re right. It’s so easy to play the helpless little girl. “Oh, OH...” I started, so he could hear. He was so handsome, mommy, dark hair and black eyes, just like daddy. I almost opened the door when I saw him. The shopping cart lady was with him and she cried out, “Please do something!” I wished she would go away because I wanted him all to myself. Finally, the guard shouted, “Honey, if you can hear me, get down on the floor, okay?” Excited because he called me honey, I rolled onto my stomach, but I hid my face, giggling hysterically, and fell to the car floor.
I suppose you’re mad because of the broken window, now. Mommy, what did you expect? You left me all alone.
Broken glass rained over me. I was still on the floor when the guard lifted me into his strong, hairy arms. His cheek was warm and itched my face with his stubble. He smelled like sweat and his back was damp. I pretended to be exhausted from the heat and he held me tight on the backseat for a moment. He sent the shopping cart lady to get help as I hoped he would. I just wanted him to myself for a moment, mommy. I nuzzled closer to his neck and dared to taste the salty sweat across my lips.
He was so big and strong, mommy, just like my daddy but you ran daddy off, didn’t you, with your nagging and your threats? This man was MINE and he rocked me. He told me, “You’re going to be just fine,” and I believed him. I sighed, “Hold me closer.”
I reached my arms up to encircle his neck, as best I could. I can’t wait till I grow up. I could feel his heart beat faster and thump harder, against my chest. He wanted to comfort me but he was scared of me, mommy. That made me so mad.
So, I had to do it, mommy. I didn’t want to but there was no other way. His beautiful dark eyes bulged from their sockets when my little hands gripped harder and tighter around his neck. He looked surprised, like the others, but you can’t blame me. All the anger I have, mommy, just like the doctor said. It was easy.
Gary Brandner
MET DICKIE LAYMON, as I knew him, in the legendary Pink Tea writers group. He took my place as “the kid” of the group. There was an immediate rapport between us for the best of reasons: we laughed at the same things. Throughout life the best friends and sweetest romances are those who share our sense of humor. Dickie and I laughed together at the pretensions and pontifications of others, and at our own failings and foibles as well.
Coincidentally, Richard Laymon’s first published story appeared in the issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine that carried my second. Since I already liked the guy, I was pleased to find he was a damn good writer.
We were both single at the time, and roistered around together a good deal. There were parties and pranks and foolishness that helped break up the long, lonely hours a writer must spend at his trade. I cherish the memories.
Whereas I am a little reticent about meeting people, Dickie was a natural. If there was a celebrated writer we both wanted to meet at some function he would yank me along and introduce both of us. Some firm friendships started that way.
Dickie loved Halloween. Trick-or-Treaters at his house got a bonus when a crazed killer stormed out roaring and waving a bloody axe. Many of them did not wait around for the laughter that followed.