...but don't quote me on that.
I strive for decorum, polite manners, and a pleasant disposition. Spending time with my brother, one of the fabled "good ol' boys", cultures me differently. He is very vocal on the subject of bowel movements, and has no problem telling us like it is, with lovely slang lessons to boot. We are deadened to the foulness. Nothing shocks us anymore.
So anyway, Mom, Charlie, and I went to Johnson Creek today. On the hour-long return journey, Charlie ripped into a package of garlic summer sausage. I know, because Mom and I smelled the spicy garlic on the air and heard the lip-smacking from our position in the front seat.
My childhood home is situated atop a hill, outfitted with a single, solitary bathroom. As we began to ascend toward the house, Charlie's voice came to us in panicky undertones. "I've really gotta pinch a loaf. Here's the plan: Laura, you run ahead and get the doors from the garage to the house open, and then call to me and get the hell out of the way. I'll make a run for it and try not to drop Hiroshima all over again."
And that, my friends, was verbatim.
I looked at Mom, and she looked back like, "You better do it or the car's gonna get really stinky...and that's just going to make me get sick all over the upholstery...and you'll have to clean up his mess and mine because my stomach can't take it. So, go open the damn door and be quick about it for God's sake." My mother's looks are worth 1,000 words...or a solid 54, in any event.
The car came to a rolling stop and my feet hit the garage floor running. Mom chanted urgently, "Go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go-goooooooooo!" The first door, the door from the garage to the breezeway, crashed into the opposite wall as I slammed my way through. I made the sharp turn, down the steep decline of the breezeway and nearly twisted my ankle as my sweaty fingers fumbled with the lock.
I heard Charlie whimper pathetically, "What's taking so long!?" Finally, the door to the house opened, and I swear angels sang. Charlie, hearing the thump as the door rammed against the 6-foot-long chest freezer, called out frantically, "All systems Go??"
"Yeh—yeh—yes!" The entryway from the back of the house is very narrow. I did not know how I would get out of the way in time for him to pass. My heart beat erratically as I heard his car door slam.
Charlie rounded the corner into the room and shouted, "Well then get the hell out of the way!"
I didn't think, I just acted, and body-dived onto the chest freezer , covering my head with my hands in the event that his 'Hiroshima' would indeed drop. I felt the air move as he passed, and he called back quickly, gruffly, "Good work, good work!" and my heart calmed as I heard the bathroom door close. Thank you, God.
Weakly, I rolled my sweaty, tense body from the freezer to the floor and walked back to the car. I needed escape. This was too much. I was beet red to my roots, and Mom laughed at me as we left the vicinity, my brother's ground zero.
